I live on the main street.
On the main street live I.
I live the main street on.
If a giant, who grew magic beans that could transport you to other worlds, had of been let lose in my town because he was bent on killing Prince Charming (who he believed had killed his family when in fact it was Charming’s evil twin brother), I could have very well been a Giant-squashed human-pattie because escaping in my Barina Batmobile would have been fruitless!
I will not, at this time, disclose how many Once Upon A Time episodes I watched last night.
Since I was house bound for a several hours, and it was Saturday, and I didn’t have any pressing matters to attend (like running for my life from bearded vengeful giants), I took a stroll down Volkswagen Lane.
Guess where all our luggage went when Dad had to look at some engine part?
In a pile on the side of the highway.
One of the things I enjoyed about today was checking out people’s car accessories. We’re talking dream catches, teddy bears, dancing Hawaiian figurines, VW toy cars, a giant stuffed Pooh Bear on the front bumper bar and…
Maybe that I’m an old fashion soul.
Or that I’m partial to the aged look.
It could be because I once owned a ’82 Datsun who leaked water on the floor when it rained, crawled up hills at 50kms an hour, gave my NRMA road service membership a run for its money and whom I fondly grounded rust off every year and patched with Builder’s Bog to pass another Rego check.
Today proved that I’m not the only one.
Check. Her. Out.
How could you ever be down in the glumps sitting behind the wheel of a beauty like this? You couldn’t, that’s how.
Give me a pink bumper bar, a pop-top and a whole load of flower power.
That’s what I call driving in style.
xx Trouser Girl