Not like this.
It was born for luxury, built for a life of posh driveways and gentle cruises, bred for a world of valet parking and private drives. It had the pedigree for the occasional rush through sweeping, picturesque countrysides and the DNA of Le Mans winners under its curved green flanks.
Not like this.
And it lived that high life, for a time. Smooth roads and hedges. Garden parties, parked on neatly manicured grass with other sleek four-doors with leather interiors. Regular tune-ups and wax jobs.
But then…it fell out of favor.
The posh world is a fickle one, with newer, better, faster things coming along every year. More stylish rivals moved in. Its stately good looks, the timeless design that never went out of style nevertheless faded out of fashion, and age set in. It became the second car, then moved on to a second owner. A third. The leather seats dried out and cracked. The wood veneer began to delaminate. It lost value, gathered dust, blossomed spots of rust at the corners.
Eventually the hot rodders came for it. But they didn’t take it to the show circuit. They ripped out its engine and gearbox and gave them to other cars. Its suspension was unceremoniously torn out to underpin an old Buick, its badges stripped off for keepsakes. The fanciest parts were carried away, leaving it pared down to a shell.
Not like this.
The better life was gone now, its lovingly designed lines buried under garbage in the back of a garage, awaiting a final trip to the metal-scrappers yard. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
But then, without warning, the garage door was cracked open, and a shaft of sunlight fell upon the dusty, forgotten sheet metal. The scavengers had found it.
Well versed in the ways of salvage and demolition, they marveled at the shine in its Sage Green paint, and appreciated its long, low body’s athletic curves. They smiled at the crusty leather seats, and dragged its discarded doors and trunklid off of the scrap heap.
When they dragged it out of the garage, their intent was not to shred it. They’d spotted the spark of life clinging to the body, deep inside, and it resonated with them. This was not how the lovely green car’s story ended. The scavengers brought it back to their space and found what it needed amid their own supply caches–another suspension, another engine. New wheels, new doors. Its new parts were mismatched, but that didn’t matter now. It had moved beyond the fickle fashions of the posh world. New horizons opened up to it. The years of neglect had tempered it into something stronger, something entirely different from what it had once been.
It re-emerged, transformed. Yes, like this.
It shook itself back to life, and issued a roar utterly unlike the subtle purrs of its previous life. New roads stretched out before it. The horizon beckoned.
# # #
Take off the my-world lens, and this is what this looks like in your world: I got an ’84 Jaguar for free on Craigslist, the remains of a hot-rodder’s donor vehicle. Maybe at first it was just as a scrap-metal cache, but Ivy immediately took a shine to it. We struck a deal with Wasteland car-building luminary Spud Innit (you can read about him here) and an epic scheme was hatched. I am going to drag the remains of the Jaguar and a spare engine to Wasteland Weekend 2017, and we’re going to mate it with some Chevy-truck running gear with the goal of resurrecting the XJ6 as DemonKitty, right there at the event. Haul in a pile of parts on Thursday, drive the car on Friday. Hold on to your lug nuts: the blackthumbs and scavs are going to HAVE A PARTY.
More updates as they become relevant. DemonKitty will make its debut in late September 2017!