Three years ago, in the fall of 1992, I was attending an art gallery opening in St. Louis' Central West End. Before heading back home some friends of mine and I strolled around looking in shops and we stopped in a bookstore. On the counter was a postcard advertising the screening of a film called Wild Wheels that evening at Webster University. The card pictured director Harrod Blank in his art car, Oh My God, a reggae-colored Volkswagen Beetle with a big globe on the hood and a TV on the roof. Having been a fan of art cars since the time I first saw one while on vacation in New Mexico in 1984, and having participated in painting a friend's car since, I knew this movie was for me. Unfortunately I lacked the funds that day and had to pass. Later, I purchased the companion book, an excellent and inspiring effort.
Well, after three years I finally got a another chance to see Wild Wheels. Webster University was the site as before and an art car exhibit and a slide show were also offered. Rik and I set out to get some culture. Both of us have a marked inability to find unfamiliar locations. What I'm saying here is that we have terrible senses of direction and can barely find our way out of an open paper bag with a flashlight and a map. We found the campus without too much trouble but we had problems trying to locate the correct building. Parked on the side of road was the land yacht, one of the cars featured in the book. This is a big white vehicle shaped like a boat featuring a towering superstructure with elaborate decks and railings, and a life preserver prominently displayed. It looked pretty incongruous there on the quiet suburban street. The driver was reading something. "Do you think he knows where he is? Should we follow him?" Noticing that the object the man was studying was a map, Rik replied "Somehow I think not." We parked and walked around on foot for awhile and followed some signs that read "event parking" but they were for a different event and that was not much help so we got back in my vehicle and began circling around. Again and again we kept seeing the now mobile land yacht, approaching from the side or from the opposite direction as we both circled around aimlessly, lost, lost, lost. I could never turn around fast enough to catch it, and I would loose it for awhile then see it again, repeatedly. This went on for about a half an hour and the whole thing seemed so silly I started to laugh so hard I could hardly shift and my engine shuddered in protest. "So what did you do this weekend?" I could imagine being asked later. "Oh, I chased a land yacht all over the campus of Webster University for a couple of hours, how about you?"
Finally we gave in and asked for directions which led us to the correct building. As we approached we had the hell scared out of us by a wooden gothic automatic door that swung slowly and silently open in the dark deserted area in back of the creepy old stone hall. We then hung out in the parking lot looking at the art cars, since we by now were quite late for the first show. Along with the land yacht, no longer lost, Harrod Blank's latest project the Camera Van was there. A shark car belonging to his neighbor, a couple of local cars (one of which was on the 1995 calendar which hangs in my room), and a few others were there. We met Father Time, a fixture of North St. Louis County for many years. His patriotically painted and musical bus was not present but we recognized him by the God Bless America hat he sports. I've seen him many times cruising the parking lot of the Venture and Office Depot stores across the highway from St. Louis Community College at Florissant Valley. (Now what would I be doing hanging around Office Depot? Hmm, can't figure it out.) In case you've always wondered, Father Time told us that in real life he works as a produce merchant.
Father Time's Ride, photographed by Carolyn at "A Taste of St. Louis", Sept. 1996.
We still had time to kill so we decided to get some eats. There were no fast food joints in the vicinity (very weird) so we stopped at a gas station to score some junk food. The clerk was a trip - or on one. As we made our purchases he lectured us for about ten minutes on why people should be able to smoke indoors, then told us the store made a thousand dollars a month just from displaying cigarette advertisements on racks. Do you know the song "Killer Inside Me" by MC 900 Foot Jesus? It's about a psycho who enjoys babbling incessantly to polite strangers to watch their eyes glaze over with boredom before he kills them. This clerk reminded me of the guy in the song. It should have been obvious to him that we were not enjoying his tirade, but he would not shut up. We finally escaped and then retreated to my vehicle to enjoy our fat, sodium, and sugar laden treats. As we ate we watched him waylay each customer with an unwanted harangue. Some he even followed outside as they were pumping gas. The dumbest shoplifter in the world could have gone in there and had a spree.
Then it was time for the actual movie. It was well worth the wait. Very funny and inspiring. It opened with footage of the director in court for the umpteenth time for violations involving his car. He pleaded to the judge that he was picked on because of the bizarre appearance of his vehicle. I giggled as the judge asked to see a picture of the car, while the onscreen Harrod Blank glumly waited for the judge to reject his argument. The rest of the movie featured visits with art car owners as they told how and why they were moved to create their rolling works of art. The slide show featured Blank's car discoveries since the movie was made and shots of observers' reactions to his Camera Van, which is equipped to photograph their facial expressions from dozens of glued on cameras. He said that a book Wild Wheels II was in the works and after that he was going to publish a book about the Camera Van. After a question and answer session, I acted like a fan and obtained Mr. Blank's signature for my book. It was a strange but very enjoyable evening.
This article originally apperaed in "Rik and Carolyn's International House of Slack". Copies are still available. For information send e-mail to limegr@ezl.com or write to Carolyn Substitute, PO Box 771, Florissant MO, 63032-0771 USA. Reprint permission for this article is granted with inclusion of this notice.
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