Cadillac Lights
It is easy to be distracted by a rusty Cadillac. When I was still a kid I knew a guy in New Jersey, a handsome man called Skip. He had a guitar shop and drove an old white Cadillac. Then later there was Lucretia in California. She had a rigid helmet of perfect white curly hair which was every bit as pristine as the vintage Caddy she parked out front. Her car and her permanent curls protected her from all the tawdry awfulness of the twenty first century. That big white Cadillac was for every day, she kept a polished bronze Buick in the garage for best.
Skip and Lucretia; those have to be the finest names for people who drive cars like that. Showboating romantic names, from the time before climate change and emojis.
See how easily I wandered off then. This is not about the Cadillac, it’s not even about the open road; or how soon it will all be a Mad Max sand-world, filled with rusty old vehicles and ghost drivers. This is truly about the tail-lights, or more specifically the light that drifts from them. That is peachy, it is retro pixie-dust, it is magic.
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