What If The Alfatross Could Speak for Itself? (Post # 77)

Anthropomorphization

Ann Arbor, MI, 1963.  Pat Braden.

Not surprisingly, The Alfatross has never spoken to me. Not in words, anyway. It's just a machine, a collection of bits and pieces, rubber, steel, glass, and aluminum. It doesn't have a soul or spirit. It isn't alive.

Ann Arbor, MI, 1964

So why do I feel like it does and is? Sometimes I wonder what it would say if it could speak. What do cars care about? Do they have memory? Do they have feelings? Do they bond with their owners?  

If I could establish a five-minute dialog with The Alfatross I think it would go something like this:

Alfatross: "We need to talk."

Me: "Uh-oh . . . ."

Chapel Hill, NC, 1970

Alfatross: "Why did you buy me . . . and then treat me so badly?"

Me: "Well, you know, I was young and inexperienced and you were an Italian Exotic. Va-va-voom!"

Alfatross: "That doesn't explain the mistreatment part: leaving me out in the cold and rain, ignoring me for weeks at a time."

Me (guiltily): "There were a lot of demands on my time . . ."

Hendersonville, NC, 1980.

Alfatross (accusatorily): "That's lame."

Me (changing the subject): 
"Are you male or female?"

Alfatross: "Does it matter?"

Me: Never mind.

Corpus Christi, TX, 2004.

Alfatross: "Was your original intention really to turn me into a 'hot rod' with Corvette seats, fat tires, tinted windows and a flashy two-tone paint job?  And what was that I heard about tossing my engine and cramming a small-block V8 in its place? Didn't you like me the way I 
was?"

Me: "Well . . . not the color."

Alfatross: "Then what did you like about me?"

Corpus Christi, TX, 2010.

Me: "I liked your weirdness--wire wheels, knockoffs, plastic windows, hand-made little bits and pieces, five-speed stick shift, those funky seats, all those great instruments on the dash, especially the 220 on the speedometer (until I figured out it was kilometers!), your shape, your beautiful shape--but 
not your dependability (or lack thereof)!"

Santa Fe, NM, 2013.

Me: "I admit to neglecting and mistreating you for all those decades, but aren't you happy about what's happening now?"

Alfatross: "That depends on how it all turns out."

Me: OK, that does it!  You are definitely female!"

Alfatross: "Suit yourself."


Me: "I just have one question for you before the five minutes is up: Did you ever race?"

Santa Fe, NM, 2013.

Alfatross: "That's all you men ever ask!  'What races were you in?  What were your podium finishes?  Who were your drivers? Talk about one-track minds!  Well I'm not saying.  If it means that much to you go find out for yourself!"

Me: "You're lucky. You can roll back time. You're getting younger every day 

Lebanon, TN, 2014. Tim Marinos.

like King Arthur's Sorcerer Merlin.  Me, I can only get older, more decrepit and useless. You will outlive me and other men will eagerly step forward to lavishly care for you.   

Alfatross: "Quit complaining. And don't expect me to feel sorry for you. I'm just a heartless, soulless machine, remember?"

Lebanon, TN, 2015.  Tim Marinos.

Me: No, really, think about it. You started out as chassis number 02016, one of 20,000 other Alfa 1900s produced. By pure chance you were selected to be sent to carrozoria Zagato, where some great designers shaved off hundreds of pounds of excess weight and made you a to-die-for lithesome dress. From that day on you were special. You must have felt like 'Jake Sully'  in Avatar. 

Alfatross: "Yes, I was a dish in those days.  But I didn't see the movie and I still don't feel sorry for you."

Me: "Those days are coming back.  You have a lot of admirers--you're going to be reborn, and more beautiful and powerful than ever!  All it takes is time an money.  And expertise. And research. And artistry. And careful planning. And devotion.  And Perseverance.  And Patience . . . and did I mention MONEY?