That night the caravan crashed in Gila Bend, Arizona. And I mean crashed. I, for one, was dead tired after a sleepless night and two mad days in preparation and on the road. And from the way we all zonked out littered higgilty-piggilty about the grounds of some RV park, it appeared that all were exhausted.

The following morning Jim Skinner helped me divine the cause of Duke's first complaint: a sort of sluggishness and tendency to stall when cold. "Go and buy yourself a new set of spark plugs," he said, and I did and voila! Vroom! Vroom! Already, I felt a measure of security that I had never known on a road trip, like no matter what might go wrong with my car, I wouldn't be left stranded and clueless by the side of the road. At least Jim would know what the problem was, even if he couldn't fix it.

It amazes me still how instantaneous came the sense of family. An art car family! These were eccentrics like me, hippies, gypsies. And it takes a certain strain of hippie to maintain an old American car, to afford gas and repairs, to go on the road for any length of time. The term gypsy actually tells it better. Road gypsy seems to say "practical, self-sufficient transient." That was us. That is us. A family of road artists. And it's magic.

I think of the story of The Coltmobile, the car Jim was driving along with his copilot Lizzy. Creator Ron Snow glued model horses onto his car as a form of therapy while in Alcoholics Anonymous over the past 20 years. Apparently Ron couldn't make it this year, so brave Jim rose to the occasion. His seemed a scary job at times. The 9-1/2í wobbling tower of over a thousand blue horses seemed sure roll with the force of every passing semi.

On the flip side of size and extravagance would be Ron Dolce's 1969 Volkswagen Marble Madness. It is one of the smaller and more subtle Art Cars, but to my mind it is the most beautiful. Its exterior is comprised solely of marbles and stained glass, what Ron eloquently calls, "frozen watercolor." Ron is the old wise man of the trip, a hoary nut with a sardonic, "get-out-of-my-face-I-just-woke-up" look permanently carved into his mug. He and Jim are the lone elders of an otherwise GenX crew. We hit it off well, Ron and I, becoming fast friends by my third day out, although he says that at first he didn't like my car at all. This came as no great surprise from a guy who admits to being a prick. Haha. I look at Ron's car and I see Sistine Chapel; I look at my car and I see L.A. freeway overpass. What makes my car unique is the sheer number and variety of people who have scribbled on, painted, grafittied, and autographed it over the years. What makes Ron's car special is, well.. just look at it!

Unless otherwise noted, all images are copyrighted by the artists and/or
by Pineapple Publishing and Consulting
Art Cars in Cyberspace ©2004 Pineapple Publishing and Consulting
Contact us at artcars@artcars.com

Last update April 1, 2004