The first two or three antique cars I see here seem like anomalies.

After four or five, though, I wonder if this place attracts people who love old cars, or just turns them that way?

Walking around stone paved streets of this old city, one sees old cars parked under carports, in driveways, along alleys, abandoned on curb sides, even acting as giant flower pots in vacant lots. Some of these transports appear to be running while others have long ago given up their ghost.

One flashy vehicle in a residential driveway features a couple of fish who could be right out of the book “Wind in the Willows” except that there are no fish in that whimsy, just a loony amphibian. A red 60’s VW is parked in front of an office building. Around town, still driving, I see rust buckets that spit out dirty exhaust but still get their un-self conscious drivers from point A to point B.

Old cars in this older town are excessively big, heavy, generous with big metal bumpers and shiny chrome. When you turn on their radios you hear big bands, early Elvis, Hank Williams. These bad boys are big lumbering dinosaurs that wear their hearts on their sleeves and I especially love it when their engines growl, pop open their hood and see real distributor caps. These antique cars were made when Detroit was King and are still licensed and ready to roll. 

Old cars and old cities go well together.

I’ve never been in a hurry to erase the past but these old cars suggest that the hands on the town clock are moving in the wrong direction.

Going back to the past, I am continually reminded, in Colonia Del Sacramento, that looking backwards doesn’t always have to be painful. 

 

 

 

 

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