today's post is gonna be a bit of whinge. what's a whinge you ask? well it's a whine with edge. you see, this one's about a feature of steven's high school life, a subject that he rarely broaches because it is a dark and murky little alleyway along the journey of his life and while filled with interesting insights, it is delivered in an almost undecipherable internal code that likely means nothing to anyone but the most accomplished therapist. in sum, it is a dark, gloomy, sorry-for-itself ramble that leaves you gasping for air, light, and spiritual sustenance.
still not put off? then read on.
for many people i have met and currently know, high school - that time of your life between the ages of fourteen and (at the time) nineteen- when you finally blossom into the lovely, wonderful, world-changing, creative person that you actually are - is a time of fun, riotous parties, relationships,and a pinch of schoolwork thrown in that you nail with alacrity. it is the time when you leave pimples, awkwardness, and insecurity behind along with a heap of poetry, crushes, report cards, and memories that you will draw on for the rest of your life.
my own experience was not entirely pleasant and memorable to be honest. i was glad to see the end of it. the high school i attended was probably relatively normal, average, but it didn't suit me at all. that this was as much of my own making as it was of the school goes without saying. a lot of the time i was intellectually above it all (my marks disprove this assertion but i believed it all the same) as i watched fellow students do what they were told, avoid expressing any of their own uniqueness and most definitely, spend the copious amounts of money that they had on lunches, dinners, and evenings out galavanting around with each other.
among the many ego-crushing experiences i had while at high school, i can still vividly recall the moment when i discovered that i was in a school that had kids who owned their own cars - and when i say cars i mean - mgb’s, a jag, and a bevy of vans. the "poor kids" had old but working vehicles. my own means of transportation at that time? well i had three: my feet, my parent’s car (which they drove) and my trusty golden orange raleigh three speed bicycle. oh, and the city bus. the kids came from an area that housed a mixture of nouveau riche and lower middle class families more-or-less side by side. the disparities were visible and difficult for any kid still on the "where's my gravy train?" route favoured by kids in western society.
this severely hampered many of my needs and ambitions at the time. you can create your own list of what those needs and ambitions might be. anything you put on your list was almost definitely on mine!
high school was a very slowly unfolding nightmare for me with very few highlights and (as i mentioned earlier) even fewer memories that i can say i’d wish to revisit. i immersed myself in many worlds - art, music, poetry, car design and others - all in an attempt to distance myself from the perceived enemy and to declare myself wholly and entirely unique . . . which i was regardless of what i did or how i acted or what i said or how i dressed or behaved. but you can’t tell a high school student that can you? i wouldn’t have heard you if you tried.
so i dreamt and wished and hoped the most unrealistic of dreams and thoughts and wishes and hopes among which was the most fervent desire to pull up at my school in a car so incredible that no one - not the richest kid, let alone the most miserable teacher - who drove a triumph tr6 by the way - could ignore. in showing up in my exotic fantasy mobile i would pull the loveliest girl, wow every guy on the football team and leave the teachers in awe of me. or so i fantasized.
growing up and dealing with the realities of life is a double-edged sword. on the one hand you get to leave behind the unfortunate by-products of your previous sorry existence, on the other hand you have to acknowledge the emptiness of your misguided ambitions, the purposelessness of “making a point”.
eventually, when all of this becomes either a sudden, (or more kindly) a slow realization, it is accompanied by the spectacle of balloons bursting all over, kites careening earthward, trains crashing . . . well you get the idea.
frankly i’m well past caring about all of that now, but at the time it was so powerful and so all-encompassing - to prove myself more worthy and more . . . more than any of them.
so i’ll share the cars that were meant to vault me beyond the shallowness of the quarterback, to cause my teachers who understandably held me in low regard to reconsider the error of their ways, and most especially to cause the most stunning girls to find me almost if not entirely impossible to resist.
the de tomaso pantera. ford engined, low slung, stylish. who could resist the throaty rumble of its huge exhaust, the fat tires, the italianate styling?
the nova kitcar. kitcars were a big item in the early to mid seventies. get an old clapped out volkswagen or whatever, and slap an exotic looking body on it and away you go. this one has the really cool eye-catching feature of a totally unique entrance and exit. you see it has no doors - you lift the entire roof or "canopy" up to get in and out ....... (see below)
the lotus esprit. a truly beautiful car (at the time) with the unmistakable lotus cache and then too styling that really stands out from the pack.
but the primo uno massivo splendido dream car of steven's high school years was the lamborghini urraco. at a time when lamborghini wasn't a household word. when you didn't have a million and one kids going to wal mart to buy the latest lamborghini concept car in whatever scale model they wish, this was a car and a brand that was thoroughly unique, cutting edge, stunningly attractive, and while not blindingly fast, it looked fast even standing still. i'd still like one of these actually.
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