Get back in the wagon, kids, we’re going to Farrell’s

K Car Woody Wagon

About 30% of my childhood was spent riding around in shitty beat-up station wagons going from one parking lot to another in a yellowish haze of smog. I got to relive a bit of that today because the nearby brushfires have once again turned everything yellow and a bit toxic, and I found a craptastic Chrysler Reliant K “woody” wagon in the Borders parking lot. It’s similar to the one I shot in Santa Ana before. Something about the way that smoky light hit the veneering and the frayed upholstery and the dirty glass caused me to have a Central Orange County Proustian Experience.

The rest of the shots are in this Flickr set.

Who’s awesome? mcpino is, that’s who.

Saturday evening I opened my door to see a large, bulbous package on the step. It was addressed to me, but I couldn’t think of anything I’d ordered that would look like a sack of potatoes. I dragged it inside and inspected it. Playa del Rey return address. Who the honk do I know there? Maybe it’s a UNABOMB!

I opened it up and out fell a stack of Spy magazines from 1988 to 1990, with a note from mcpino saying he was just dragging these around from place to place and he hoped I’d enjoy them. GOD DAMN YEAH I WILL.

Ann Hodgman eating dog food! Celebrity garbage! The New York Times fatality column inches calculator! MAKE YOUR OWN TWINKIE! THANK YOU!