My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

photo posted from my iPhone

You just locked eyes with an all original 1935 Plymouth PJ and you two already love each other. You’ll drive out to a tall grass field overlooking a reed studded pond and park. The six volt powered radio will seranade AM emotions as you climb out and sit down on the running board and watch a pair of ducks lift out of the water and take wing in the blue air.

Not so fast loverboy. This here is Rusty Sunshine’s lady. He trailered her over the hill from Pescadero last week.

“Bring your camera next time you come through,” he said to me. “Got something for you to see.”

“You buy another tractor already?”

“Nope. You just come down and take a look,” he said.

I wish I’d dropped out of school and started working right away. Now I’m nearly forty and still paying off student loans instead of buying mechanical marvels of the last century. Oh well. Locke came by and we tried to get her turned over.

If you have an eye for it you’ll see the hay bale twine tying the hood up and the little gas can resting on the front end. Rusty bypassed the fuel lines and using gravity feed had gas going directly into the carb. Locke sprayed starter fluid in the open barrel and as Rusty turned the key Locke placed his palm over the mouth, choking off oxygen. It nearly caught but just wouldn’t quite.

“We had her going the other day, a little gas direct in the cylinder. Couldn’t believe how good it sounded.”

I grabbed Rusty by his plaid shirt. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m a Romantic, not a mechanic. Let’s get this running and buy suits and an old pistol and rob every gas station in our path till the coppers pin us down and we’re gonna die right inside this tin beauty.”