A Horse With No Name

Last night I had dreams about Cheers and Gears...

19 posts in this topic

All night long. Kind of cool and I am going to share it. But I warn you, my subconscious is kind of a strange place to be. And I hope I don't offend anyone with my dream, I just want to tell you guys about it because you guys were in it.

But don't say I didn't warn you...

So as I start dreaming I find myself walking up to Balthazar's house, as he's asked me over to have a ride in his newest toy. A perfectly restored 1964 Black Pontiac Grand Prix. We're cruising along the New Jersey Turnpike, chatting away, talking about my sons music and his son's band, vintage cars and the like when we start talking to each other in French for some odd reason. Balthazar pulls off the turnpike and drives down a rural road, and we find ourselves going into a long, dark tunnel.

When we come out the other side, we find ourselves driving a 1940 Pontiac sedan down a road in rural France during WWII. Cool detail of the dream...when I walked up to Balthazars house, the GP had 2012 New Jersey Plates...the 1940 had long, skinny rectangular Euro style plates. I tend to dream with a lot of detail.

We end up meeting up with the French resistance, and pulling off several missions...rescuing Jews out of Auschwitz that had knowledge critical to the government,m smuggling secret documents into Switzerland and meeting with a US diplomatic official, getting downed US airmen out of France, etc.

For our final mission we were sent to help blow up a train as it crosses a bridge, right at the French-German border. When we asked why it was so important to blow up this particular train, we are told that Erwin Rommel is on the train, headed back to German high command for a meeting. We set the charges and manage to blow the train up, getting into a gunfight with a few survivors and shooting German officers in the water as they try to swim to safety.

As we get ready to walk away, mission accomplished, one of our fellow French resistance workers yells that he's found the body of Rommel. I'm happy until Balthazar points out that we've changed the future, altered the course of the war, and made it so that there is not a 2012 to go back to. We argue in French about what we are going to do....and then I wake up and go to the bathroom.

This is probably brought on because I just read two good books about people (fictional, obviously) who go back in time and get stuck in World War II, called Blackout and All Clear.

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Dream #2

It's 1970, and the dream is vivid. Guys have sideburns and long beards, the music is from the era, girls dress like Marcia Brady, etc. Dodgefan and I are both 17-18 and seniors in high school, and living in a community north of Santa Barbra along the California coast. We both have fairly well to do parents, who give us both an early high school graduation gifts-Dodgefan gets a brand new Challenger, red, 383 automatic, and I get a new Red 1970 Cuda, 383 4 speed with a pistol grip shifter.

We spend our time flirting with girls, playing volleyball with friends on the beach, going to basketball games, etc.

Dream ends with both of us cruising up the California coast at sunset, he in his car and me in mine....

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Dream #3-

Camino and I are both summoned by a text message to an odd looking Gothic church building. As we walk up to the entrance of the building, we notice in stained glass above the entrance the script "to the unknown Gods of power and speed." As we open the door to go in, we are greeted by Roger/GMCTG74, who is dressed in a robe that looks like a cross between a Buddhist monks robe and a druid robe....behind him are about 50-75 guys similarly dressed.

Roger explains that this is the priesthood of vintage trucks, and that we are being brought here for a purpose. Cool detail of the dream...on each robe is an insignia (Ford, GMC, Chevy, Dodge, etc....). The Holden guys all have a different image of a Ute sewn into their robe, ranging from ancient to modern.

It is explained to Camino and I that vintage, worthy GM trucks are rotting away, and that it is our mission to save them.

(Another cool detail of the dream-the stained glass in the "church" had pistons, wrenches, valves, etc. instead of religious symbols)

The church is illuminated with only candles, and as we are led forward, we see a large vehicle on the "altar" under a white cover. The cover is pulled back to reveal a 1990's white Suburban 4wd, lifted, riding on 35's with a 454 under the hood. It is explained to us that we are to head out west, to Wyoming and Montana, to find trucks. We will get messages from someone named Wildman Joe, which will be our only form of contact with the priesthood.

As we head west, Camino is sitting in the passenger seat as we cross Pennsylvania, Ohio and Illinois at 85 plus miles per hour....busy sending text messages back and forth with Arkus, his dog. Also, we stop in Ohio to get an enclosed trailer from one of my SCCA buddies to haul stuff back east with.

Don't you love it when you dream and don't question obvious deviations from reality....

Anyways, as we get out west we find 5 trucks...

Edited by A Horse With No Name

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Truck #1...

We pull up to an ancient and badly remodeled Victorian house in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Wildman Joe has given us a hot lead, and we are to pursue it. Knocking on the door, we ask an elderly lady if she has a truck for sale. She explains that her brother was a doctor, although he has been dead for several years. His pride and Joy was a 1941 Chevrolet half ton truck, and that it's in a garage out back if we would like to have a look. We go to a rickety old single car garage, pushing back brush as we go. As she opens the door, we see the truck, buried under a pile of junk, old LP records, roller skates, dollhouse furniture, clothes, photograph albums, etc.

Arkus stayed back in Pee-ayy, but both Camino and I are wishing he was here, as the old woman has fed every stray cat within fifty miles, and they have seemingly all used the garage as a litter box. After holding our noses and taking several fresh air breaks, we finally get the truck unearthed...and it's not in bad shape. We just wish someone had rolled up the windows to keep the cat smell out.

We tinker with the truck, and buy a fresh 6 volt battery at a local farm and ranch supply store. I sit in the drivers seat being bitten by mosquitoes and having the sweat fall off of my forehead into my eyes, while Camino shoots ether/starting fluid into the carb, brusing aside away curious cats as he works. I push the starter button, and after a few cranks the little 6 cyl comes to life. We air up the tires, and pop on the headlights, because by this time it's getting dark. We are amazed that they work. Loading up the little jewel, we pay the woman, and thank her. She makes us promise to find a good home for her brothers truck...

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Truck #2

As Camino and I head across Montana in the Suburban, we get a message from Wildman Joe to stop at the next small airport, that he is sure that there is a vintage GM truck there that needs rescue. We pull into a seemingly deserted small rural field with a grass landing strip, a couple of fuel pumps, and a few seemingly abandoned hangers. Camino suggests pressing on to get a beer or two in the next town, as Wildman Joe was certainly wrong...no vintage GM stuff here.

Climbing up into the lifted Suburban and firing the 454 to life, we are greeted by an old man who seems to have a permanent hunch to his back and walks with a cane. He asks us what we are doing, and we reply that we thought the airfield looked like an interesting place, so we decided to check it out. He asks Camino and I if we would like a tour of his hanger, and curious, we agree.

As he opens the door we are greeted by a small armada of small aircraft, ranging from old Biplanes to Cessnas. They are all over the hanger, hanging from the ceiling, arrayed on the floor, and arranged in a way that makes even getting around and exploring the place difficult. The hanger resembles nothing so much as an aeronautical equivalent of Camino's barn. We become quick friends with the guy and enjoy poking around, finding everything from the nose of an F86 Sabre to the cockpit parts from an old P3 Orion.

A T6 Trainer, yellow and silver, sits by a workbench, under restoration, although it becomes obvious that the restoration has become stalled for quite some time. Given our hosts frail health, Camino and I both wonder if the project will ever be finished. As we walk back towards the front of the hanger, our host asks us why we are exploring the West. We reply that we are looking for old, vintage GM trucks that need a good home. He beckons us towards the rear of the hanger.

Edited by A Horse With No Name

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"The priesthood sent you....I knew they would...I haven't got much time left...."

Our host guides us under the nose of an aircraft so stripped for parts we can't identify it, and we see an olive drab Chevrolet 1 ton Flatbed dually from the 1940's. We become curious, and it is explained that the truck was driven by the man's father, who was in a motor pool under Patton. We doubt him at first, but then an old photograph album is brought forth, and we see neat old photographs of his father's unit...and the truck.

At first Camino and I panic, wondering how we are ever going to get the dually free from this much clutter, but then we are shown a door at the rear of the hanger. As we swing the Suburban around to winch the truck from it's resting place, we are given a set of letters home from Europe to a young mother and her infant son.

"These and the photo album go with the truck, make sure all of it get's preserved if you would...."

We strap down the second truck in the trailer and head to the next town for a beer....

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Truck #3

We are pulling through a small town in Wyoming, having just crossed the border. The last few leads from Wildman Joe have been dead ends, and we are getting discouraged. As we head out of town, we drive past an old abandoned gas station from the 1950's or 1960's, that looks like it has been closed down for a long time. A 1953 GMC 1 ton truck converted into a tow truck just screams rescue me, and we find the owner and buy it....

While we are waiting for the owner to come back with the title, for some odd reason we decide to re-light the neon on the gas station. We buy some supplies form a small local hardware store, feed the abandoned building with electric from an adjacent building, and manage to get about half the neon rewired.

Cool image at this part of the dream....53 GMC truck, lots of patina, lit neon on an abandoned vintage gas station, against the twilight Wyoming Sky

Out of room to load the truck on our trailer, we use the Suburban to push the 53 into a long disused service bay for a few days safe storage. We call OCN Blu out east, who dispatches a friend with a truck to rescue the GMC and haul it back.

Edited by A Horse With No Name

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Truck #4 in my dream...

Following another lead from Wildman Joe, we meet up with a rather eccentric collector of 1950's cars, who doesn't seem real happy to have us around. Most of the cars were under cover in his barn, and the only ones I remembered from the dream were an Ivory and white 55 Nomad, a 58 Bonneville, and a derelict 53 Buick Wagon outside of the storage barn. The truck we ended up buying from the guy was a 58 Chevrolet Cameo....which was really solid but had been turned into a bad custom sometime in the 1970's. Cutty swivel buckets, a mix of Crager and Keystone Rims, a butchered floor to fit a 4 speed shifter, and an 8 track that was held in the dash with duct tape, plumbers putty, and a melted crayon.

But it was really cool in the dream how nice the rest of the truck was. The stainless trim and chrome were sweet, almost perfect, and the truck had never been repainted from its original blue and white. Plus the odd Cameo bits were pretty much all there.

Trying to remember the dream, I think the Cameo was parked next to a 57 Olds when we bought the truck, but in the dream the owner got pissy with us when we asked if we could take a peek under the cover.

Edited by A Horse With No Name

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Truck #5-

Last truck in the dream was a 1970 Big block long bed GMC 3/4 ton...gold and white two tone. It was really a survivor, although it had been parked under a leading roof and the back of the bed was starting to rust badly by the tail gate. We had to work really ahrd to get it out of the barn it was resting in, managing to damage the front bumper and knock the drivers mirror of as we tried to get it out and get it loaded.

Cool detail of the dream...1975 Wyoming state map and 1976 Wyoming state Fair program were on the front seat of the truck when we bought it and rescued it. Also remember opening the hood and being impressed with how original and unmolested it was....

Thanks for reading this far if you have.

And yes, I think I'd like to own a vintage truck some day....

Edited by A Horse With No Name

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ocnblu    777

Dude, it was 3 o'clock in the morning when you called. I don't even remember what I said. :AH-HA:

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dfelt    1,874

WOW, I never dream due to my narcolepsy and it must be amazing to dream. Keep em coming. :P

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Wild..sure those aren't daydreams? :) I have a hard time getting to sleep w/ my insomnia and usually can't remember my dreams, probably due to the strong sleeping pills...

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ocnblu    777

A classic country song, right there.

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I don't dream too often but when I do it's usually completely off the wall. I do sleepwalk quite a bit. According to my family, years ago when we were on vacation I was having a "heated argument" about politics in my sleep.

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