The cracked head blues

Hello reader(s),

Well, now that I'me done with school, I've had less time to batter my brain with sensless carrying on.

There's much less time to be had with friends, theres much more time working and the time in between,
approximately 12 hours I spend sleeping and carrying on at my parents home.

I still have quite a comfortable separation from reality. I live much better than I did at school. That is nice.

However, I also have time to think and nowhere to run from the things I've created. Ever since I got our 1974 VW Type 2 Bus, I've had a vision for it. I can still see it now. She will be a two tone beaty half pastel white (L90D) and half a deep blue green found stock on the 1966 beetle. I haven't set in stone if the top or bottom will be blue. That's not the point. The point is that it's too easy to look too far ahead.

 Right now our bus sits on ramps, the engine is half apart for the fifth time and it's looking like a foolish showing of force may require it to come back out. It leaks like that's what its made to do and the trans leaks right along with it all over the nice coat of paint I laid down on what I thought was fixed.

Laying underneath I noticed, just to spite me and probably to my own good luck the axle bolts are already loose for me, taunting my inability to dab locktite on their fine threads.

There's more, she's rusty. She started as a parts bus and we made the foolish mistake of trying to bring her back to life in cramped garage. It's worked, we got her running and driving. Surprisingly she can hold her own.

Still somehow it seems as if she will never be done. There's so much work. We've done plenty already. I spent four summers in the garage sweating as I attempted to fix or paint everything I could.

Still so much will have to be redone. Then there's the work others have done. So far it's all failed in some way. Maybe my standards are too high,but I'm tired of the endless issues and my own mistakes and reassurances to resolution to more mistakes.

Don't get me wrong, I won't quit on her now.

No she's teased me too much. Baby she's given me kisses sweet rolling through the Ohio countryside on a perfect day at her ideal 50 miles per hour. It seldom repeats. A taste of cherry is worse than none at all.

I am going to fix her, but I want to forget. I want to forget all the time I've already spent on her. I want to forget all the time it seems I've wasted going about things the wrong way, the "fast" way, the way people said didn't work.

I won't go the way people say I should, but I've got to at least listen to their directions. One in particular I've been really tring to listen to was a bus friend. He really gets nice cars and keeps them nice, but he definitely does big projects. He said to me "Look at each thing as a little project." Then take it little by little.

It looks like its coming apart again. This time I won't think about the finish until I get there. Dreams are beautiful, but the wanderously concrete finite embraces the soal. The end can rip, crack and tear, I know. I hope it can compile and cruise as well.