The Goddess of Tenth Street

Yesterday we took in a showing of Paris, je t'aime at the Crest Theatre in Sacramento. Despite the preponderance of trees in California's seat of government, Sackamenna is not exactly Gay Paree, nevertheless, our Francophile self was flabbergasted when we walked down 10th Street for a cup of tea and saw this battered old DS Safari — complete with specific yellow headlamps — parked among far less spectacular examples of workaday, humdrum Central-Valley-typical vehicles. Armed, as we were, only with our camera phone, the shots fall short of the Henri Cartier-Bresson mark, but nevertheless, there she is, hunkered down on her hydropneumatic suspension, DS/ID shop manual and a jug of Prestone in the back. "April in Paris" was playing in the café. When we walked back out, she was gone, a fleeting flash of tarnished sophistication in a flat, hot burg gone subdivision a la crackerbox.

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1970 Ford LTD [Internal]