Monday, June 14, 2010
My sister says that no one cares about cupcake cars in the same way she can't sell a story about the movement of the Steam Punk Tree House nor placement of the Raygun Gothic Rocketship on the San Francisco Waterfront. Nobody cares about Burning Man anymore. While this pleases the part of me that disapproves of unwieldy rich person art, I admit I do look fondly upon art that resembles a jungle gym, and artists that let you jungle all over it.
I saw these cupcake cars at the San Francisco Maker Faire where the cakes were seemingly operated by anyone who wanted to drive them! My favorite driver turned out to be a teenage boy in a blueberry muffin who silently maneuvered through a crowd of people awaiting snow cones. I wanted to tell him how great he was, and thought about approaching, hands curling up slightly with faux bravery. However, just then, his visibly drunk father appeared, yanked the poor boy's blueberry hat roughly and jammed his hand down into the muffin to grab for the boy.
"Time to.. Give your MOTHER a Turn!" he said.
I didn't want to get involved. The lanky fifteen-year-old climbed out wordlessly and the mother stepped gingerly into his seat.
My fist lightly clamped a wave at the mute youth as if to say, "Carry on amazing cake driver. One day you too will be a little rough at the end of a sunny day, filled with carnival beer."
He looked at me without register.