Here's my latest painting: It's a typical southwestern desert motel during sunset featuring a 1964 Dodge Polara as the 'star' of this painting. This painting portrays the situational instance of having your car breakdown in the in the middle of the desert in a simpler time from the not too distant past. I have a funny poem to go with it as well describing the owner's love/hate relationship with her first car, a 64 Dodge Polara.
She was a member of the class of '76 and she was ready to walk the stage.
She owned a Dodge Polara from a bygone era, and misses it to this very day.
She was on her grad trip that she'd been planning for years,
that she paid for by herself
working as a cashier.
It was a great trip, but she was a little home sick,
and was hankering to get
back home to where she lives.
She was driving back home from Las Vegas, Nevada
Back to her hometown of Huntsville, Alabama
In her 12 year old polara from '64
With 413 ci, and 4 on the floor.
About a day had passed since she was playing craps
at the Stardust Inn & Casino.
She drove happily
and took a scenic route near the town of Winslow.
She drove that backroad for a while, perhaps 200 miles and had no clue where she was.
That's around the time that she heard a hefty grind that sounded like a broken chain saw.
The old Polara started to choke as it mumbled and grumbled, and belched out smoke, and by then She thought she'd be stranded there for sure,
She wasn't sure how much more her car could endure
But as the sun dropped like a fly,
it revealed some neon lights
on a Motel just a mile or two up the road.
She was loosing all faith in the old Polara,
the noises it was making sure would scare ya
but there was nothing she could do, but cuss and fuss with it, and fantasize the day that she'll be able to sell it.
That glowing neon speck was slowly growing
as she inched towards it groaning at the old Polara that was hardly even going.
That old motel was a beacon of hope
For a car with a dwindling power stroke.
In an engine that once delivered supreme power,
it's grinding itself to death by the hour
It felt like nearly half a year, but she and her Polara were finally here,
the fluids leaking out smelled worse than cheap beer,
and that is when it became very clear
that the problems were indeed very severe
She got on the payphone and called long distance
to the nearest town with roadside assistance
but they had all gone home when the clock had struck 5,
bringing home the bacon, and spending time with their wives.
It became very clear that she had to stay here, until the sun rose the next morning. So she approached the front desk and didn't expect to see the owner sound asleep snoring.
With a ding of the bell, like a bat out of hell, he jumped nearly out of his skin.
He had a strange smell, so did the motel, and he handed her the key to her room.
She said thanks and began to go
to the room she got in that old motel
She opened the door, like she'd seen this before, and thought "man this reminds me of psycho"
Looking back on the whole ordeal,
She wishes she still owned that set of wheels,
even if it had more quirks than perks,
it's still her favorite car that is for sure
Today She's 55 and for most of her life she regrets selling her Polara.
Cause it was that Polara from a previous era that was a first car she'll remember forever.
Anyway, All Fast Lane Design Art by Ryan Sardachuk. Click the link to join the facebook page: www.facebook.com/FastLaneDesign