MY MOTHER THE CAR: my God, my God

Objectum Sexuality: I want it, OH I want it

It took the last post to make me realize how much of this blog is about "old stuff".

It just is.

Blogs are supposed to have themes (?), so maybe mine does now, as much as it ever will.

(Sayyyyyy. . . that's really swell!)

Things were browner then, and somehow more dreamlike.

These '40s cars are erotic, their jutting noses phallic, bulging fenders like blown-up bosoms, and bottoms squatting haunchily like some faunlike forest animal. This one looks completely unreasonable with its slitty little windows and ridiculous upward thrust, but it must have belonged to someone. Who knows who that is in the foreground. Was this a piece of artwork? I don't think so, but still, it doesn't seem real.

My favorite thing about them is the rear wheels. Why did they cover them like that? They had little disclike things that must have flipped up to service the tires. Some of these are so extreme that the car seems to be sinking into the ground. 

If you look at this dispassionately, which frankly I can't, you see a gorgeous galleon of a thing, insurmountable, its bulbousness both male and female, jutting like the shoulders of certain military men, all out of proportion but devastatingly beautiful.

This one is all haunch, but still with those mysterious wheel covers. Looks a little bit like a Volkswagen bug from the '60s. Who owned this thing, what was his/her life like, what did they like to eat? Everyone has a story. 

This one is some sort of roadster, very sporty, but still with those ridiculous luscious curves and the jutting nose. Also the vestiges of a running board, which carried on well into the decade. Not sure of the year, but surely it's 1940s.

Surely these are animals. They seem alive. Their smoothness makes me want to wrap myself around them, feel the heat and the hum. The tensed haunch seems ready to spring the vehicle straight into the air. 

This one is all nose, ugly really, but interesting for the exaggerated nature of it, the cartoonishness. And still, the covered wheels. I am not sure how long this quirk lasted. (Come to think of it, this DOES look like a toy car. Maybe it came with a toy man.)

And this, one of the most beautiful photos of a car I've ever seen, for it bespeaks Hollywood in the '40s. It's not faked like so many of these sepia poses, as the background vehicles are period-accurate. That caramel tone is irresistible. I want it, oh I want it.

Post-blog blatherings. OK, I watch My Strange Addiction too, everybody does, I don't care how clean your hands are. You masturbate too, c'mon admit it. So I see this  really weird one where a guy is in love with his car. It's plain this is not a platonic thing, either. He - well, I won't go into detail. In an even stranger episode, a woman is married to a carnival ride, one that doesn't even function (but then, can't that be said of many "real" husbands?). 

I don't think what I "have" is this, since I have barely ever seen one of these 1940s monsters, nor have I ridden in one. But I'd be in ecstasy if I did. I will never forget that cream-and-aubergine dream that I glimpsed maybe 12 years ago, that moment. It wasn't just admiration or love, it was a jones. I won't go on the show cuz my addiction isn't colorful enough: if I owned one of these beauties, it might be another story.

It's a definite disorder, this I know, for Wikipedia tells me so: Objectum Sexuality, also called OS or "fetishism", but that term has gone out of style cuz it doesn't have "disorder" on the end of it, or initials that sound good on talk shows. 

Dr. Marsh, writing a weekly column called "Love's Outer Limits" for Carnal Nation, began with three columns called "People Who Love Objects".She has also published "Love Among the Objectum Sexuals" in the Electronic Journal of Human Sexuality, March 2010.

In March 2012, British citizen Amanda Liberty gave an interview to the Daily Mail newspaper (complete with photos) regarding her romantic feelings for the Statue of Liberty. Liberty said:

'She is my long-distance lover and I am blown away by how stunning she is. Other people might be shocked to think I can have romantic feelings for an object, but I am not the same as them.'

In the same month, 40 year old Reighner Deleighnie was interviewed by the Daily Mail newspaper regarding her romantic relationship with a three-foot marble statue of the Greek God Adonis that she bought for £395, and which she had nicknamed "Hans". A later example involved Val Theroux, a 64 year old Canadian woman who flew thousands of miles from Kamloops to the UK every year to see an Oak tree which she had fallen in love with.During the summer of 2012, Babylonia Aivaz, a Seattle woman, married a 107 year old warehouse, however, this particular relationship is not being described as object sexuality, due to the political protest nature of her marriage demonstration.

Erika Eiffel, who adopted her surname after a 2007 "marriage" to the Eiffel Tower, founded OS Internationale, an educational website and international online community for those identifying or researching the condition to love objects.

  Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001K7NGDA

Mystery solved?

   

Could this be the one? 

Like the Handsome Prince, I have sought Cinderella for years now. I've schlelpped around a very big glass slipper - glass boot maybe  - trying to find The Car, the gaspingly beautiful car I saw a long time ago, years ago, when I was standing at a bus stop.

I don't care two figs about cars. I don't drive them, and I think they are the worst culprit in global climate change. I hate them, in fact. But every once in a while. . . 

I seem to favor the late '30s - early '40s models, maybe because they were featured in hyper-romantic movies like Casablanca. I love the bulges, the sleek lines, the tiny freakish rear windows you could barely peep out of.

Anyway, I was standing there minding my own business, when something sailed past me. A ship in full billow. It was huge, sleekly curved, and two-toned, painted gleamingly in maroon and cream with chrome trim. I remembered that there was a local car show on the weekend, and wondered if it had come from - somewhere - to take part in the annual orgy of hopeless yearning.

It did a strange thing then. Rather than drive on, it turned into a demi-strip-mall, but the driver didn't get out. He (I could just barely see it was a he) drove around the perimeter in a half-circle, very slowly, then pulled out and drove away.

Was it preening, primping, parading just for me, or were there other gawkers? It was obviously a vanity move. Look at me. Rather, look at "it", this treasure from another time, beautifully restored in probably about a billion hours for a billion dollars.

I realize now that in spite of the similar coloring, this isn't the car. There was more chrome on it, and the colors were placed differently, separated sort of diagonally.  It sloped down more dramatically at the back, and was quite a bit longer, with those odd covered back wheels I could never understand, giving the impression the car was growing out of the pavement. And it didn't have a running board, meaning it was probably a year or two newer than this photo.

For a long time I thought it was a 1940 Mercury Westergard, and I guess it's possible. Anything is possible, except I've never seen a Westergard (even in a photo) that wasn't gleaming cherry red. Seems like some sort of an automobilic law. 

But this is the closest I have come. It's called a Stowe Vermont Packard, which means  nothing to me except that many of the car photos I'm collecting now are Packards. 

It's not the car. But maybe a distant cousin. 

http://margaretgunnng.blogspot.ca/2013/04/the-glass-character-synopsis.html

http://members.shaw.ca/margaret_gunning/betterthanlife.htm

Beyond car

1950 Buick

Beauty!

1951 Hudson Hornet

Ditto (likely copied from identical image above)

1940 Oldsmobile

1942  Oldsmobile

Really old car

1938 Packard

Mid- '30s Packard (guess)

Gaspingly beautiful car (probably Packard)

Beyond car.

Cars I just happen to like. In no particular order. I like turquoise cars with lots of chrome trim (whatever happened to chrome? People used to brag that their cars had "lots of chrome".) I picked vintage magazine ads because they reminded me of Mad Men, but I cropped out most of the cars so I could use them as Facebook covers. Plus the ads are pretty repetitive, with too much text. I do like the backgrounds on a lot of them, but many of them have a sort of Dick and Jane quality, wholesome, indicating a "family car". (A couple of them are "artistic" in a way that is frankly gorgeous.) Interesting that the two Hudson Hornet ads depict identical cars, reminding me of the Harold Lloyd caricature which was obviously copied from a photograph. Maybe even traced.

I guess you can see I favor late '30s to early '40s. Cars were bulbous tanks then, with a certain erotic quality. You could get up to a lot in the back seat.

My strange obsession: the auto-erotic car

Behold, the only car I've ever been truly obsessed with: the 1940 Mercury Westergard convertible. I thought I saw one of these driving around town years ago, before a local car show, but I may have been wrong. It was painted maroon and cream, with a lot of chrome trim. But it was basically the same enormous, bulbous shape, with rear wheels completely obscured (so how did they ever change a tire?).

It was only by digging around that I found out anything about this. There's nothing at all in Wikipedia except some sort of vague reference to the Ford Mercury line, started in 1937 by Edsel Ford (and we all know who HE was!). This wet dream of a car came later, when an auto-erotic genius named Harry Westergard  revamped the whole design.

In showrooms, they almost look pornographic. The universal gleaming cherry color, like a red lollipop that has been sucked and licked and set out in the sun, makes it look as if it would be hot to the touch. The car is both male and female, with a great thrusting phallus at the front (not to mention round, staring eyes and a bow-shaped, frowning mouth) and a big round ass in back, crouched almost as if in submission, waiting to be fucked (or for that tire to finally be changed).

When you think about it, it's downright obscene.

I want to slide down that fender-thingie (and I'm not even sure I should call it a fender, it's so odd-looking, like some sort of elevated running-board), curl up in the curvature of that massive trunk. I can only imagine what the interior looked like.

 Whew.

But that's not why we're here today, boys and girls. I am about to show you some truly-over-the-top Popeye porn.

It's from a cartoon called (strangely) Service with a Guile, and it's about an "admiral" (this must've been a wartime cartoon) who drives up in the car pictured above, wanting "just some air in the tires". Popeye, Bluto and Olive Oyl manage to  make a hash of the whole thing.

You know things are getting a little symbolic here: Olive rubs and rubs and rubs the fender, while the tire swells and swells.

Popeye goes into crisis mode. The fender suddenly bends up, looking alarmingly erectile. This car seems impossibly aroused!

But it just goes on and on. Though Bluto thinks he has solved the problem by shutting off the air, the tire just begins to "pock", burgeoning with straining balls of air like so many swelling breasts or engorged testicles. There is definitely something disturbing about this!

And I can't find the fifth one. Perhaps I saved it somewhere else? It pictures Popeye, Olive and Bluto being blown back through several walls, leaving them-shaped holes, before falling into a clothesline and into various outfits (Bluto is in some kind of corset) and taking off back to the ill-fated car.

Which, except for the color, looks exactly like the 1940 Mercury Westergard.

(Found it!)

http://margaretgunnng.blogspot.ca/2013/04/the-glass-character-synopsis.html

http://members.shaw.ca/margaret_gunning/betterthanlife.htm