Feeling crappy with allergies or a sinus infection, or some such misery, so I blew off the road trip I had planned for this months full moon. But I did manage to drag my ass out for a night at Big M. I can’t stay away from this place. There’s always a farm-fresh barn find, or some old treasure uncovered as cars move around . . . like this ragged 1960 Plymouth Fury, looking ready to roar down some haunted highway, a direct descendant of the mythic Furies, out for blood and vengeance. Loving the enhanced aggression in the splayed distortion that comes from pressing the frame’s corners. Almost total darkness with Protomachines flashlight in 1:54.
