My bipolar Datsun Z mainlining her meds at the mechanic. ECT is next.

Ferrari 250 GT Tour de France 1956.

In my Torino. Hollywood.

Ford Torino. William Eggleston.

Vanishing Point.

What a present! I’ve been writing about Monte Hellman’s masterpiece Two Lane Blacktop  since I started movie writing. I’ve been obsessed with the movie ever since I saw it (pre DVD release), as a young gearhead movie-loving lass on “USA Up All Night” and recorded it on VHS (I still have that tape). But I never owned the original poster. Thanks to the coolest sister in the world, I’ve got that coveted one-sheet in my hands. Holy shit. “If I’m not grounded pretty soon, I’m gonna go into orbit.”

Let us now praise Harley Earl. 1956 Pontiac Firebird II.

The Torino is up and running and reunited will never feel so good. I don’t care how much it costs to fill the tank. Since I don’t have the heart to murder my cute little Rhoda Pennark of a Datsun, I’m going to pray Miss special special 280Z is hit with a bolt of lightning after all those baskets of hugs and kisses I’ve given her. And I WON’T give her back those shoes! 

Syd Barrett.

Rear View Car Wash.

Here’s when my cute minx of a Datsun 280 Z mangled my fingers — burned them to a crisp after I broke down in the desert. Save for some psycho moments, she’s been OK for 6 years, but now the girl is up to shenanigan. She just starts whenever the hell she feels like it. It’s becoming a dysfunctional relationship and I holler at like an angry boyfriend. One second she won’t allow me to get to a meeting on time because she just decides to not turn over and then, like yesterday morning she drives like a dream. Of course when I have nothing important to do. It pissed me off so much that I lost my cool and loudly called her a manipulative bitch who is trying to destroy my life. My neighbors think I’m nuts. I’m just waiting for the domestic disturbance call to come and the police realize I’m screaming at a car…

MM.

Rita Hayworth.

Natalie Wood.

Hot Rods to Hell.