Hot summer morning. The rhythmic sounds of cicada’s singing drowns out my thoughts and it works to fill the void that the heat and humidity are rapidly creating. Nothing is moving. Most of the neighborhood dogs have gathered in my garage lying very still, panting. I am the only person at home and they gather around me in case the scary summer storms come back again. They barely notice as I hurry out the back door to drive to my next painting location. I know I only have a couple of hours in the morning to paint before the temperature and humidity will make it unbearable to stay outside for long. Today I am driving to a country town called Hartsville about 30 minutes from where I live. As I drive into town I notice a very old dilapidated car parked on the side of the main road that runs right into the town. It looks as though it has not moved in several years, flat tires, broken windows. There is no traffic. I am a block from the city hall and only an occasional pickup truck is passing me by as I work. A welcome sprinkling of rain has kept it cooler today.
A week later I head to the same site to paint again. This time, I left in such a hurry that I forgot my paint brushes. One thing I have not forgotten is my painting knives, they are wonderful for me to use, but a bit of a challenge on such a small canvas. Another incredibly hot humid day. I must work quickly, the light is continually changing. Some old cars speak to me again. In this summer heat their chrome glistens in the morning sun. They seem to have a personality and a strength that reminds me of a cartoon character, and look like they are ready for some job they were created for many years ago. Old mob mobiles perhaps? Or just old family cars? No dents, a little rust maybe, and still having fun hanging out with a couple of old friends.