More Car Pictures

I took so many pictures of the cars at the Speedway on Wednesday,

I couldn't resist sharing a couple more.

And to prove not I'm not seduced by just anything bright and shiny, 

here's a detail of a 1922 Indian motorcycle.

Where the Trees Dance

Just outside the Indianapolis Motor Speedway there's a small grove of trees that becomes an RV parking lot when races are held. The rest of the year the place stands quietly in the shadow of the main grandstand, visited only by occasional walkers like me. 

I go there to visit the trees, to check on their welfare, not in any arborological sense (is that even a word?), but more to see whether they are still standing, dancing with the rhythm of time that has turned them over the years, as they reach towards the sun.

When the race-goers come in the summer with their RV's and campers, they think they're getting a parking lot with trees. 

I think they're getting a ballroom ...

where the trees dance.

Roar, Whine, and Grrrummble!

As a rule, street cars bore me until they begin to look like this ...

Or maybe this...

Even this...

I live near the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, which on Wednesday hosted a stop on Hotrod Magazine's 2011 Power Tour. There were a lot of participants gathered in the shade, such as it was, of the IMS Pagoda, with cars and trucks from all across the country, who participated in at least one stop of the tour. Representatives from all aspects of the industry were there, primarily those who manufacture aftermarket parts for people who restore and modify vehicles. One company makes tires, so owners can keep shoes on their vintage babies.

I wandered around the grounds for hours, where I saw cars of all kinds, from all eras, in various stages of restoration and/or modification. All the work had been lovingly done. They may have have begun their lives on an assembly line, but each of these automobiles is a one-of-a-kind creation, reflecting the vision and creativity of their owners. These people come from all backgrounds, from all around the country, but when they come together they they have something to talk about.

Here's the IMS Pagoda, which on race days is the administrative hub where timing and scoring is done and media is housed. Below that is a shot of the main straight as it looked yesterday, and another from before the start of this year's Indy 500.

Nosy Parker

Okay, I have to admit it, I want to know what's going on when I see holes being dug, streets being scraped, men going down into openings in the street. Agatha Christie's Miss Marple called such people "nosy parkers," and I guess I'm one of them. After all, "inquiring minds just want to know." When I saw these men with their big truck with all the dials and indicators, I couldn't resist.

As it was explained to me, the truck is a rolling vacuum cleaner of sorts, which they use to suck stuff out of the city water lines. The sections of tube were attached to an opening in the water line, then connected to the truck. When the vacuum was turned on, things such as gravel that might have eventually blocked the line were sucked into the tank on the back of the truck.

Duly impressed, I thanked them for their information, then asked if, when they were done with their shift, they might come over to vacuum out my place; it needs more help than Hoover, Dyson or Oreck can handle. 

My Eyes Dance

During my walks, as I try to watch where I'm putting my feet so I won't trip over a pebble, I also try to remember to look at what's over my head. Sometimes I see something like this, a tree so beautiful, so colorful, the shape of its leaves so exquisite ... it makes my eyes dance with pleasure.

It's a Japanese maple tree. There are several varieties of them around my neighborhood, all of them colorful at all times of the year. Some start off as bright green with little red seeds, others start as a brilliant red, while still others seem to be varigated. One homeowner has planted several red ones. In spring they are scarlet, but none of the pictures I've taken over the years has ever shown that wonderful color; my camera does not see what my eyes enjoy.

So I just let my eyes dance.

Pinata + Bounce Castle = Party!

Just before the storms rolled through Saturday evening, I looked outside my back door to see the crayon-shaped and colored bounce park, full of happy kids. Off to the side was another group of kids, taking turns whacking a pinata. Its evasive actions were being controlled by a dad holding the cord, adjusting the pinata's height to suit each little basher. The crowd seemed equally divided between parents and kids, with the adults ringed around tables, watching as their kids had all the fun. And then the rain came.

Nope, the castle didn't get tilted by the wind, but pinata needs a tilde. Please, imagine it.

Audition

                                  

 

Today was the day. If you cared to endure temperatures in the mid-90s, you could make the rounds of the neighborhood garage sales and do everything from buying your wedding gown for $40, furnishing your home, finding clothing and playpens for the new baby. You could get some "illuminated" Christmas ornaments for the yard and the Christmas puppy (a big sweetie!) who was auditioning real hard for a new home. Oh, yeah, if was to be a shotgun wedding, you could find those, too. Several of 'em.