Some may wonder, “Why celebrate cars?” They park in the bike lane, shout at you, try to run you over, speed up to try and be helpful but actually crash a wave of mud in your face. They take up all the land with their stupid black asphalt. They breed people who love nothing more than square food and wrappers and little babies with fruit boxes and Monster Munch snack-packs that are left behind to despoil beaches for anybody with fewer stomachs and an ability to bend over – indeed to see downward – to collect. They’re tank-shaped air-conditioned lounge rooms for alpha females who obstruct pavements at schools – preventing safe carriageway for children on bikes and foot, wheelchair or crutch. They dominate city planning and stupid, federal budgets and last but not least they’re completely inaccessible to anyone under the age of consent, meaning billions of people are withheld from divergent accessibility and mobility within their city.
But sometimes something is beautiful through good design, scarcity or care – three elements of a valuable community and economy which, sometimes, is only taught to us by cars.
Pink Ford Mustang at Milkd, 32 Angove Street North Perth Australia