I love cars. My personal and greatest passions as you know. They’re such intriguing things. The way they move like us, how they work and how they react like us. They way they give emotions like us, the way that they age like us. I believe that they are living things, though I know there will be some questioning about how I work. I mean, how could a human be like a car? How could a car be like a human? They’re just some other ob
I believe that it’s wrong. I understand, they are inanimate, but even then they are alive. Alive with life and emotion. Each car has his or her own heartbeat. Each one has a way it moves, a way it reacts towards the touch of people, towards the very fingers that we humans have. We have engines within us, all different in shape and form and in power and strength, though all of them are special in their own way, The very thing that drives us, drives them, driving us amongst and through the roads that carve out truth in the lies that lay waste, in the road that we drive through and amongst, each other, the fake and the real, the occult and the material.
We, our paint and vinyls cover our skin and our very surfaces, the metal of us only showing what we’re like on the outside, the way the exterior of a car is, the way the exterior of us are, the way that we show ourselves to the rest of the world. The way we need someone there, our inspiration, our driver, to take acceptance into the interior of our body, looking beyond the flesh, seeing the soul of us, seeing the soul of cars, seeing what they really are for who they are. Of course, accidents happen. All the time, misunderstandings, misreading, when we bump and grind into the rail, taking the turn too hard or losing control of ourselves for moments and seconds as we spiral and stop, our bodies scratched and the shells of our hearts caved in.
We find ourselves lost, more than enough, broken down more than enough and more than once. We even feel that the ones we travel the roads with, the ones that we call our ‘friends’, have no desire for us any longer. This has only happened once too many, I’m sure too the all of us. Though…why do we stop when we have hurt ourselves? We know from the start, subconsciously, unconsciously, consciously, or whatever, we have a road that was made for our wheels, one that was crafted towards for the way we were made, the way our hearts desire. We know it’s there, and sure, we’re going to crash. But we will find it, amongst the traffic, against the essence.
We gain new parts along the way, on our roads, our body kits and the repairs to us will be made, for the better. The way we will look on the outside, will be closer and closer to how we are on the inside, whether it be for better or for worse. But…we all know that we have some good in us, no matter who or what kind of person we are. Regardless of our reasons. The way we move, every pivot and every single little piece of steel, every bit of oil and every one of us has our own distinct revv, our song, that we will sing to the world no matter how trivial the effort will be. If not by the world, we will be heard by the ones that understand us, that love us the most, the ones that will tow us along, help us as to the best of their ability.
There’s so much to say, and I have so much on my heart that I am pouring into this. I know, it may be jumbled, and I might seem a bit off on many points. But this is what I think, what the Mazda RX7 you all know and love think. I don’t mind if you disagree, just as long as you take it into consideration. These are my thoughts, no more no less.
Just please remember… you may lose sight of your destination, your goal. And you may be frustrated. But, you know that everyone and everything is waiting there for you. No matter how fast, or how slow you go.