Yeah, but I bet that car really scoots.
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How (or with what kind of car) can one produce skid marks like this anyway …
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Run into one of these
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Fuck. Here I was, sitting on the couch like an idiot, ‘steada hittin’ that funeral…
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those bog rolls appear to be the accelerator and brake.
the 10 year old boy in me finds this contraption delightful, while also impossible. i even like the pukey chartreuse upholstery. one would never even start this jalopy for fear on setting that velvet button-tuck right behind the cylinder block on fire. but, if that canister between the duel bathtub backseat is for petrol, that big V8 will suck it dry in two lopes of the camshafts…
also: hearing protection required!
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They are. I did not realize that. I thought they were using Charmin as a bumper.
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But
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The actual ride is pretty clever and interesting, but judging from those statues at the entrance (and a general perusal of other decorations from amusement parks of that era), people in the early 1900s did not find anything creepy, ever.
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That, or everything was creepy all of the time, so their standards were skewed.
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The Victorian Era had only ended in 1901, so, yeah. Very, very yeah.
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Ornamental Hermits Were 18th-Century England’s Must-Have Garden Accessory
Wealthy landowners hired men who agreed to live in isolation on their estates for as long as seven years
Neither Stukeley’s hermitage nor Queen Caroline’s boasted a hermit-in-residence. But it wasn’t long before the idea of elevating a hermitage’s authenticity by adding a living, breathing hermit caught on. “Nothing, it was felt, could give such delight to the eye as the spectacle of an aged person, with a long gray beard and a goatish rough robe, doddering about amongst the discomforts and pleasures of nature,” wrote British poet Edith Sitwell in the 1933 book English Eccentrics.
To find their man (records indicate ornamental hermits were invariably men, writes Campbell), landowners placed advertisements in local newspapers or handbills. For the hermitage at his Lake District estate, wealthy oddball Joseph Pocklington sought a man who would live for seven years without washing or cutting his hair and nails. At another unidentified “great house in England,” an advertiser offered £300 to a hermit who would “remain bearded and in a state of picturesque dirtiness for six months in the year in an artificial cave at a suitable distance from the house—just far enough (but not too far) for the fashionable house-party, with its court of subservient poets and painters, to visit, walking there in the afternoons, peering into the semi-darkness with a little thrill of wonder and excitement.”
Surely there’s a song about one, like, “Henry the Ornery Ornamental Hermit”?
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Ornamental Hermit is my folk band name…
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