Every day city dwellers see countless cars, and of those, remembers or even notices very few without blending them into the road salt- and bird shit-splattered canvas of urban living.
The other day, however, I went walkabout on the city’s brotherly streets and happened upon a vehicle that stood out to me as an unexpected childhood reminder: a Datsun 280ZX. You don’t often see this little gem of 1970s Japanese engineering. At least, I don’t. I wondered for a moment, as I noted the driver’s judicious use of The Club, where he or she gets parts.
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| A reminder of mom’s more carefree days. [www.wikipedia.com] |
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| Vroom vroom! [www.flickr.com] |
It was my favorite Matchbox car, followed closely by that Italian model that served as the car mode for Wheeljack, of “Transformers” fame.
My parents had just such a Datsun when I was born. (It was the same smoky blue as the one I saw the other day.) It might have been my mom’s. I like to imagine her in a sports car, and I suppose it was a fine vehicle for a school teacher in her mid-20s. Then I came along. And so did the station wagons. And the only place for a fun car in my our lives was in my pocket.
... but enough about me 
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