Back to D-Troit I've fallen off the one syllable wagon and am doomed

...to toast in hell for all eternity.   

Topic of today's post:  Change. One day I suddenly decided I could not stand living another nanosecond in Detroit.  I took Fang up on his offer to shack up with him down here at 19 degrees latitude--- a place chock full of bottom feeders, geezers, carnies, and low lifes -- it's as though I'd never left Michigan.  Fang promised I'd get paid in sun shine.  Translation--minimum wage job with no benefits at Wal Mart.    

Here's a pic of the two Babs back in the Motown on a fine July day.

This girl band below is not from Detroit but they channel the classic Detroit garage band rock ethos that this brat was weaned on.  Please note, these gals know how to flip an authentic old school bird .

Punk Break Beat!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWbBalZur6o


Of note in that video are all the fine old school American vehicles.  This bitch didn't shed one tear for the recent woes of the cads who don't drive Caddies, and the JAPs that drive Jap cars.
Check out this fine 62 Chevy 

Back in the day, my old boy friend, Ivan, and I ran wild like Bonnie and Clyde in this Chevy Nova with a "three on the tree" and a state of the art eight track player.  The things that we did in, and on that car, defy many state and federal laws still on the books.  Mom and Dad thought we were studying away at the University of Southern Northern Michigan at Mott the Hoople.  It's amazing Ivan and I aren't dead, but hey clean livin' Mom and Dad are.  

Ivan then...                                                                                                                      

Ivan now.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Babs then...

                                                                         Babs now.