Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I'm Not Keeping Tabs On Cars

Tommy is to body hair as is Miles is to sleep. It's six in the morning again and so now it's time for a nice cuddle by the computer screen story, courtesy of Kilometers. Whats grapes to Cap'n Snapback, the B.E.T. Baywatch Star.

I don't know too much about cars. I can see people up in Richlington got a Cudi sized Mr. Rager for automobiles. I really ain't an enthusiast, man. I whipped a '01 Subaru Impreza Sport back in high school named the Silver Surfer. Occasionally, I'd get a compliment from a random asian dude bumping DeadMau5 in the school parking lot or outside El Charrito. But when people start talking cars, I often ain't hip to what they rappin. I do have a dream car and pretty cool good story to go with it. One night back in Arlington...

Something about european tags makes a car more dank...

It was the second day back from my beach week. I had been blunt cruising in the Surfer all down 50 and was going home for dinner when my cousin called. My cousin just graduated from college and was in town for the weekend. He's the only tight relative I have on the white side of my family. Fresh from UC Santa Barbara, cousin Charlie had brought himself to my house in the hopes to see me but had to settle for my parents. Anyways, Charlie tells me over the phone that his friend is performing at a rave with 12 or so other DJ's and got us two invites to go. UHHH, welcome to Jack in the SICEBOX, can I take your order? I rush back home, eat with the folks, and then dipset with Charlie back to his house. When we get to his casa, he surprises me with a couple of dankass Grateful Dead tabs. I know this is going to be a great night.

Peep the 2nd row and 4th square. It's pretty close to what I had.

We take the tabs right away but the show isn't for three or so hours. So now we're just starting to trip in his basement while reality starts warping. Fast forward three hours and we are in full swing of mind bending perception. Charlie notices the time and says we should head out to the place. This is a great moment as we drive off in my Silver Surfer. The song that comes on right away isn't techno or any electronic music at all; it's Hurricane by Bob Dylan. At the peak of the song, we hit the highway. I'm tearing down 66 on a fucking hallucinogenic to this very song and something hits me right on the top of the brain. I start to imagine myself driving the car Wooderson drove in the film Dazed and Confused, my favorite movie of all time. A shiny black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS with white racing stripes on the center of the car.


With the acid in full swing, my brain was convinced of this awesome change of vehicle as I neared 90 miles an hour without a soul on the road. It was only midnight after all. I told Charlie that that I was driving the car from Dazed and Confused. He laughed, telling me that he was Wooderson and that I was Pink and he was letting me drive his car. Somehow, it seemed like he wasn't even kidding and that was really the truth. I think he thought it was true at a certain point. We listened to more 70's music and I finally slowed down to a reasonable speed. It was an amazing experience as we reached some random Fairfax exurb to the most awesome rave I've ever been to. The rave itself is a whole other story for another time. But I still see that car when I close my eyes some times.

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