Friday, June 27, 2014

Woman in the White Convertible


mages burned into memory must be strong, visceral, and merge with the senses.  This is one: the woman in the white convertible.


During a blistering summer day in Victorville, California, a white convertible eased up to the gas pump.  Not just any white convertible, this was a 1960s long lean Cadillac convertible, with white leather interior and red trim. 

A lean tanned young man leaned out and swaggered to the gas station interior.  He was Steve McQueen cool, and he knew it. 

The white blonde woman stepped out the passenger side, swinging white leather boots onto the oil stained pavement.  She stretched a long cat stretch.  Every inch of her white leather pants clung to her, white film on lean legs.  The silver studs on the white leather jacket glinted sun, crying out defiantly, “Money!  I got loads of it!”

She shook her long white blonde hair out, combing through it with flame red finger nails and ringed fingers. 

The young man jogged out and kissed her.  “This’ll just take a minute, Baby.  Then we’ll be on our way to ‘Vegas.”


The white blonde woman turned and got back in the car.  For just a moment, just long enough, her face was fully visible. 

An old face, brown with too much sun, and pursed with lines.  Heavy rouge, heavy lipstick, heavy black long eyelashes, heavy makeup--all were creased into the lines of a face that had been to ‘Vegas many times.

The white convertible pulled back onto the I-15.  Her hand caressed the back of his neck.

9 comments:

  1. An old face on a young body. If only she'd known the value of sunblock and holidays in the cooler climes.

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  2. Sounds like she had been in too many convertibles.

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  3. That's what too much sun will do to you.

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  4. Very, very sad indeed. I wonder how old her soul is? And her heart? And his?

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  5. Great imagery. Was this from real life?

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    1. This was a slice of life at the gas station as we filled up our car. It made an impact in my memories.

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  6. Dear human, Susan,

    How memories can be emblazoned in our minds. And etched in her face, the longing of a youthful past. Nice car. I drive a toy car I got from Noddy.

    Peaceful, magical wishes,

    Geoffrey

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Go ahead...it won' t hurt...I'd love to hear what you think!