On those lonely rides to nowhere from nowhere, in the depths of the country's most isolated and all but sanitized lands of even the most buzzed AM radio, one gets to think of things. Lots of things. Lots of time to do it with. So, I think of Pixie Stix.
Well, not just Pixie Stix. Nehi Grape soda. Bubblegum cigars. Wax bottles and lips filled with colored sugar water. Jiffy Pop popcorn. You get the idea. Lots of sugar. Lots of fun. Lots of love all around. Man, what a time to be a kid. Even in the 60's you could go to a Saturday Matinee for a quarter and see the newsreel and a cartoon before the main attraction! Bugs Bunny was the bomb man!
And the muscle cars: GTO, The Judge, Camaro, Z28, Roadrunner, SS anything, Mustang, Trans AM Firebird, Olds 442, GTA, GTX, and so many more! The engines: 440, 426, 427, 302 Boss, 429 Boss, injected, blown, and wild. To bad the brakes weren't up to the demands. Smoke. Ah, what a time to be a motorhead.
I suppose all that sugar led to all that horsepower. We had fun in our garages. Not anymore. Cars are just things. Cain't have any sugar. Sugar Smacks all gone. Guess it serves us right. My hair is quickly goin away and what is left is a ghastly shade of grey.
O well, at least my memories are still sugar charged. Now, where did I put that dadgum PSP!
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