Please hold the line while I *faint*.

For those out there who are not familiar with this magnum opus of a car, here’s what it looks like:

(click on image for source)

The funny thing about this picture (which I googled) is that my colleague’s car also has those dice dangling from the rear view mirror. I’m not entirely sure but maybe that’s a required original part? I don’t know.

All I know is this: Once you set foot and then butt in this car, you’re instantly californicated and it becomes virtually impossible not to be completely blown away. Also, it seems improbable to be in a bad mood in a car like that.

Don’t get me wrong here – I’m not a car nut or anything (I drive a Suzupel, for crying out loud – more on that at a later time), but this baby is just so perfect, I can hardly stand it.

The steering wheel is made of some sort of wood, all of the handles, and knobs, and switches are made of chrome, the gas cap is very much not conveniently located at the very back of the car (motor in the front) – and there are no safety belts! The first thing I did when I sat down in the surprisingly comfy black leather seat was reach for the belt – alas, to no avail! This is one of the very few actually dangerous things that are allowed in Germany: Having no safety belts in a vintage car if they’re not originally there. While everything else is strictly regulated here, the law has not dared to advance into this domain and ruin everything. I was actually very careful not to touch the car door when we were going around a bend, for fear of falling out, but even though it was painfully unusual for me not to be wearing a safety belt, it had a very liberated feel to it, adding to the whole Californication experience.

And the sound! You should hear the sound! There are a few hiccups when you turn the key in the ignition, and then there’s a roar, a short but full-bodied, dangerous roar before the engine finally settles into its rumbling growl.

Also, today being my first time actually sitting in one, I finally understood why a Mustang needs to be called a Mustang: It squirms and prances and skips and bounces, just like a wild horse.

Golly, gee, fellas, he’s so dreamy.

Tonight, while I was asleep, as good girls should be at night – which doesn’t tell you anything about me being good or bad or a girl of either of these convictions because for all you know I could be an averagely okay-behaved boy who just happened to be asleep at night because he accidentally misread the clock – I had a great idea.

For a book.

I have great ideas for books all the time when I’m asleep. They usually involve me being chased by someone in a very complex and intriguing manner.

This one was different and I even remember what I think would be a great quote for a movie trailer (yes, when I dream, I dream big): “You don’t think my soul stays in this box of sand the whole time I’m gone, do you?”

Okay, so here’s the kicker: The quote is unaltered because the dream was actually in English. The whole thing, I swear.

I don’t usually dream in English. I admittedly talk to Hubby in a weird English-y kind of language most of the time we’re horsing around, and I have spent some time in English speaking countries. I sometimes can’t think of the proper expression in German and just blurt out the English one, making myself sound like a total douche showing off her mad English-language-Skillz.

But I don’t dream in English.

Well, I didn’t use to dream in English up until last night, to be perfectly accurate.

I had applied for the Green Card Lottery the day before, so maybe that had something to do with it, who knows. I just had the weirdest feeling when I was done waking up and noticed I hadn’t felt weird at all the first couple of seconds after just having awakened from a dream I had dreamed in English.

Anyway, the great idea for the book: There’s this man, who’s a strange kind of traveler. At certain points in his life, he turns to sand. In a box. And while the sand is in the box, his soul goes places. Which is why his soul doesn’t stay in the box of sand the whole time he’s gone, you see. In my dream, there also was a girl (very pretty, looked just like me) who held the box and had a very interesting look on her face.

There was more, but I forgot after having memorized the cool quote sitting on the toilet right after waking up. Well, there was of course a small time span between waking up and actually sitting on the toilet, because, a bit off as I might be sometimes, I haven’t resorted to sleeping on the toilet yet. I’m pretty much grossed out by toilets, so the chance of me falling asleep on one, which would entail me touching all kinds of parts of the bowl and the seat and… huh. This post is going places I hadn’t intended it to go. Go. Get it?

So, anyway, I guess there goes the book deal. I think there was something about shoes and interesting conversations with bums at a train station…

Oh well. Fame’ll have to wait a while for me.