28 September 2016

[VW] Olivia Visits Rossi Farms

Well, it's not the first time she's rolled by, but it is the first time she's paused to let me take some pictures.

This, in case I've not formally introduced you all, is Olivia. It is part of the VW Beetle Owners' Code to dub your 'Dub with a nickname; they don't take away your VW lover's card if you don't, but they all look at you like Dude, don't you know how to have fun with this thing? Is, like, an intervention in order?

So, I thought a while. I loved the fact that this was our little yellow Vee Dub. And, rising out of that little collection of syllables came a tone poem: Our LIttle Yellow Vee DubYA.

Phonetically, that's OLYVYA, but I prefer the classic spelling of Olivia. I also think it's a very pretty name, and wholly appropriate to a cutie-pie, sunny yellow 1972 VW Beetle that just makes me smile whenever I look at her.

Olivia you shall be until your wheels come off, my lovely little happy car.

But, to cases: today, to get the pictures in the previous posting, we stopped in the usual place we stop to take such pictures: the west side of NE 122nd Avenue, just south of the intersection with NE Skidmore Street, in front of Rossi Farms, one of the last (if not the last) working farm east of 82nd Avenue, an area that used to be nothing but small farms, from Portland all the way out to Gresham and around.

Today, the area between the two city centers is carpeted with tract homes and serpentine suburban streets laid out bit by bit between the 1950s and the 1980s, but it was once a farm-dotted prairie. And Rossi Farms still grows flowers and produce … I well remember the colorful lines of kale and the stalks of corn waiting to be harvested then the remains plowed under.

The fall colors are vibrant in a patch where flowers are being grown along Skidmore Street, a literal stone's throw from Parkrose High School. The sunflowers were even trained to the east, eagle-eyeing the rising sun!

Meanwhile, Olivia waited patiently for me to cease the silliness, get back into traffic, and sing along with the tunes on my commuting CD until I got home.

Life's developed some interesting-in-the-wrong-way factors over the last few months, but as long as I have Olivia, I'll be okay for at least a little while in the day. Even if you're running late, it's impossible to feel sad when you're driving a car like this.

I have extensive experience with dysthymia. Believe me, if anyone should know of the anti-depressant powers of the classic VW Beetle, it's me.

And so it (and she) goes.

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