Do you ever see something out of the corner of your eye and think, ‘Wait! What the hell was that? Was that real or just my imagination?’
‘Nah, it couldn’t be.’
‘But what if it was?’
This the game I’ve been playing with this car for 3 years:
I’d see it often, but never in full view. A passing glance here. A quarter view there. With the exception of this crappy photo, I was never able to get a decent shot or really confirm that I was in fact seeing what I thought I was seeing.
At some point, I started to think it lived in the neighborhood. But stalking is just so 2004. So I decided to act like a grownup for once and wait for a chance meeting– aka be a pussy. But then, the other day, the Baby Jesus rewarded my patience with the most spectacular of encounters. It was Saturday morning, traffic was light and I was uncharacteristically alone in my vehicle. When there, about 500 feet from my house, I spotted it in an empty parking area. Parked. Alone. In all of its glory:
Yes, that’s exactly what you think it is. The car of my dreams and yours, a FrankenBeetle. That’s one part Beetle, one part pick up truck and 3 parts insanity. Because when you go to a Phish show/Burning Man/Dave Matthews gig, those filthy clothes gotta go somewhere during the ride home. Best of all, it’s scrappy as all get out. Homegrown wheels, dodgy paint, random aluminum running boards, oh and in the name of Jerry Garcia, please don’t miss the somewhat 911 turbo adjacent side intake. Delish.
Walking around the wondrous FrankenBeetle, I found that its visions of loveliness kept comin’. Is that a bullet hole in the side door? Why I do believe it is. And why not? Hippies get angry too. Bright yellow exhaust? Yes, because gold is in the eye of the beholder.
That’s dual exhaust, for the record. The craziest part is that between the brake lights and the red bumper, this thing is practically legal!
One windshield wiper? Sure. We’re in a drought and besides, the less your passengers witness the better. The ’67 table tent? The vehicle’s birthday, of course. The filthy earbuds? Again, because Burning Man.
As I crept around back say goodbye to the FrankenBeetle and to end this long-awaited, elusive engagement, I was almost sad. I had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was done, I wanted to stay, to tell it all of the things I’d been thinking. Things I had waited so long to tell it. Things we could do together now that we were united. But then I looked in the bed, saw that Power Rangers sleeping bag and realized, This Dude Is A Freak! I’m outta here…
Thank you FrankenBeetle. Stay weird. Stay wonderful. And stay..kinda away. Muh, muh, Mama.