Saw the fatso mountain man today, and he made himself very obvious too, with a crony, no less, as i walked to the library, driving up to the clovelly turn off and then back again just so that I saw that they were watching me. Again, it makes me wonder if maybe these fools think I am a child playing with matches who needs to be told when he is in danger of causing a fire. I am going to kill you all fools, and that is a FACT. If you think either your approval or show of force is going to deter me, or sway me from my purpose, dream on, because I am going to make you wake up!
I was not even going to write about that bullshit, but about something else, something that has been my quiet driving froce since way back when, and which is the reason that I can safely say that if anyone is ever going to build a vehicle that is DIFFERENT from any that has existed before, it would be me.
I know that this may sound or seem a stretch to any of you fools, but zimbabwe is NOT such a backwoods country as you would assume. I grew up among cars, with my very first memories of them being in my 'sekuru''s (mother's mother's brother) Datsun 120Y family saloon which had holes on the floor, by design, through which I used to watch as the road went by and wonder why anyone would make a car like that. Then i would spend my days watching as the old man pottered with his old engine, and I got to grasp how a four stroke engine works, and even started readin up on cars to supplement the escapism fantasy that I lived in.
Then I grew up, mixed with the military types who used to come and pick up and drop my father from work, in the then famous "kompressors", the mercedes benz C-Class type cars that the military police favoured, and when my father sort of semi-retired, and got promoted from lt-colonel to a full colonel in the process, I was practically living and breathing cars, because by then some compensation for "war vets" had come in, and also, I suspect my father had some shady dealings elsewhere, because there was, in the garage, a pajero v6 3l, an E-Class 280 merc , an isuzu kb 280le, and a mazda B-1800, none of which I was allowed to drive, said my father, without a license.
Ergo, I never got a license, except for a motorcycle, which a former classmate of mine left me when he was going to the UK, because he did not need it. But I was at heart a petrolhead, and I was driving cars long before I even thought of actually HAVING sex!
And i sort of suspect that God sort of knew that I needed a challenge, because around the time He showed up, aside from the mindboggling "he was not, for God took him", visions, I also had dreams where I was driving a car on water, and I woke up wanting to make something that was not so... explosive... as the gas-fed four stroke engine, something that ran smoothly, but better. I am a violent person, never you for a second doubt that, and a situation where you have an engine that you know gets its power by exploding air is one that tempts me, arouses that destructive nature in me.
So, when I got that dream about "ten million dollars to build that thing", part of me wondered if i would finally, actually, get to BUILD a car like i envisioned, or if it was all just metaphorical. Last few weeks, I figured out what it meant, and I must say i was a bit disappointed, but then i realised that I was SUPPOSED to go to then US anyway, and WHY, and I perked up a bit.
Which reminds me of an indident that happened a long time ago...!
There was, I guess, in 2001, a cousin of mine who died, having gone to the drc and come back, as many did, with terminal celebral malaria, and he was a close relative, but not in my dorect family line. But, as things turned out, there was a major turn out for his funeral, with my other sekuru (the one who married the daughter of my mother's mother's brother, the one at whose house i went to stay after i tore all my papers in my father;s face) also showing up. Now, he was still a major then, and he it is who owned the vicious dogs, and he had a landcruiser as well as a colt, like the one pictured, and well, funeral time, the big guns liked to show off. the cars were available, and we were supposed to go first to gweru, to get the body, and then to chiwundura, where the guy would be buried in his plot next to my grandfather (my father's father). It was a toss up as to who would drive the colt, because it was left to us "kids", me, my sisters, his daughters, and my cousins. Now, I have a favourite cousin, the one I send emails to, and her husband could drive, and had a license to that effect, and so, He was given the keys, while i was not there, but was busy with... the dog!
Anyway, we piled into the car, and the guy, well, he was a nervous driver, and the drive from harare to gweru was probably the MOST boring one that I ever endured as i sat beside him. It was the following day that he handed over the keys to me, it being a well known fact that I could drive-i used to park the pajero for my mother when she could not squeeze it into the garage- and so, we set out for the rural ares after i made sure i engaged the diff. lock to make it into a four wheel drive.
There is a bridge. A notorious bridge that one, where one has to be careful when he descends into the canyon, and me, a never very careful driver, took it at full tilt, relying on the bite of the four wheel to make steering easy. I got a jolt as the rear end of the colt swerved as if to overtake the front, and i wondered where i had got such oversteer from, and I went down towards the bridge in a drift, with the front wheels pointing the right way but not getting any pruchase. The car was brand new, not even three months old, and I remember cursing, japanese piece of shit, as we almost broadsided the entire bridge. I frantically downshifted, and was in second by the time I got to the concrete, but it was only as the car finally hit the upswing that I felt the car's front wheels digging in, and i was able to point its nose in the proper direction, and swing it into line smoothly.
Aftwerwards it behaved properly.
Unfortunately, my actions were observed, and when I got to my grandfather's, i thought i would duck the issue by giing my nephew keys to give to my uncle, but i was told to surrender them in person, and I got the worst tongue lashing i ever had in my life, where the guy ended up saying, "you take everything as an experiment, you want to see what will happen next. Those were people's lives you were playing with, when will you grow up?"
of course, I think people think I am experimenting still, but trust me, THIS is for keeps. This is gonna happen, and i do not give a fuck who says aye or nay, because I
NEVER DID LIKE AND I NEVER WILL LOVE FANS
I know that this may sound or seem a stretch to any of you fools, but zimbabwe is NOT such a backwoods country as you would assume. I grew up among cars, with my very first memories of them being in my 'sekuru''s (mother's mother's brother) Datsun 120Y family saloon which had holes on the floor, by design, through which I used to watch as the road went by and wonder why anyone would make a car like that. Then i would spend my days watching as the old man pottered with his old engine, and I got to grasp how a four stroke engine works, and even started readin up on cars to supplement the escapism fantasy that I lived in.
Then I grew up, mixed with the military types who used to come and pick up and drop my father from work, in the then famous "kompressors", the mercedes benz C-Class type cars that the military police favoured, and when my father sort of semi-retired, and got promoted from lt-colonel to a full colonel in the process, I was practically living and breathing cars, because by then some compensation for "war vets" had come in, and also, I suspect my father had some shady dealings elsewhere, because there was, in the garage, a pajero v6 3l, an E-Class 280 merc , an isuzu kb 280le, and a mazda B-1800, none of which I was allowed to drive, said my father, without a license.
Ergo, I never got a license, except for a motorcycle, which a former classmate of mine left me when he was going to the UK, because he did not need it. But I was at heart a petrolhead, and I was driving cars long before I even thought of actually HAVING sex!
And i sort of suspect that God sort of knew that I needed a challenge, because around the time He showed up, aside from the mindboggling "he was not, for God took him", visions, I also had dreams where I was driving a car on water, and I woke up wanting to make something that was not so... explosive... as the gas-fed four stroke engine, something that ran smoothly, but better. I am a violent person, never you for a second doubt that, and a situation where you have an engine that you know gets its power by exploding air is one that tempts me, arouses that destructive nature in me.
So, when I got that dream about "ten million dollars to build that thing", part of me wondered if i would finally, actually, get to BUILD a car like i envisioned, or if it was all just metaphorical. Last few weeks, I figured out what it meant, and I must say i was a bit disappointed, but then i realised that I was SUPPOSED to go to then US anyway, and WHY, and I perked up a bit.
Which reminds me of an indident that happened a long time ago...!
Anyway, we piled into the car, and the guy, well, he was a nervous driver, and the drive from harare to gweru was probably the MOST boring one that I ever endured as i sat beside him. It was the following day that he handed over the keys to me, it being a well known fact that I could drive-i used to park the pajero for my mother when she could not squeeze it into the garage- and so, we set out for the rural ares after i made sure i engaged the diff. lock to make it into a four wheel drive.
There is a bridge. A notorious bridge that one, where one has to be careful when he descends into the canyon, and me, a never very careful driver, took it at full tilt, relying on the bite of the four wheel to make steering easy. I got a jolt as the rear end of the colt swerved as if to overtake the front, and i wondered where i had got such oversteer from, and I went down towards the bridge in a drift, with the front wheels pointing the right way but not getting any pruchase. The car was brand new, not even three months old, and I remember cursing, japanese piece of shit, as we almost broadsided the entire bridge. I frantically downshifted, and was in second by the time I got to the concrete, but it was only as the car finally hit the upswing that I felt the car's front wheels digging in, and i was able to point its nose in the proper direction, and swing it into line smoothly.
Aftwerwards it behaved properly.
Unfortunately, my actions were observed, and when I got to my grandfather's, i thought i would duck the issue by giing my nephew keys to give to my uncle, but i was told to surrender them in person, and I got the worst tongue lashing i ever had in my life, where the guy ended up saying, "you take everything as an experiment, you want to see what will happen next. Those were people's lives you were playing with, when will you grow up?"
of course, I think people think I am experimenting still, but trust me, THIS is for keeps. This is gonna happen, and i do not give a fuck who says aye or nay, because I
NEVER DID LIKE AND I NEVER WILL LOVE FANS
