Appearances Matter

No, today I am not talking about my physical appearance, but that of my car. For the fourth time in 6 weeks I was stopped Saturday for what I term "driving while poor."

My car is a 1993 Escort station wagon. Currently, it needs a good wash. I live in one of the most upscale areas of the Big D, a township with its own police force. Not like last week when I was stopped by the Anderson Cooper-clone policeman (when I actually did something to get stopped, completely cop to it, and he was totally polite), the other three times I have been stopped because my car sticks out like a sore thumb among a sea of Lexus, Benz, and Range Rover glossiness (think Twilight's vampire glowy-ness compared with regular human appearance and you've got it).

How do I know?

1. The policeman's attitude changes when he realizes he's pulled over a middle-aged white woman (no, I mean seriously shifts to embarrassed over-politeness or bordering-on-rudeness warning!).
2. When he finds out I work at My U, his attitude shifts again--even more positively--to the point where one policeman today stepped back two steps and apologized.
3. I get only a warning or minor ticket... accompanied by self-conscious awareness of "mistake." (Was it?)

I have been stopped for a non-working brake light, inspection stickers just over the limit (or not--more about that!), registration stickers, and nothing.

First cop followed me into the drive to the parking lot in the rear of my building. I parked, got out, and saw him. He was backing up, then stopped and got out, walked over and looked at my registration sticker and said, "I thought it was out of date." Since he picked me up at the corner and was behind me the entire time, how did he see my sticker in the front corner? Got in his car and left immedately.

Second cop gave me a warning for rear brake light--which has a short--and ended the encounter quickly once he walked up to my window.No ticket or warning.

Third cop (today) called two other cops, took my license and insurance, told me about rear light, outdated license plates, and inspection sticker. I told him yes, on spring break and Monday was day I planned to get short looked at, new plates on, and new inspection. Explained about everything. Second cop--in this encounter, there were three cars flashing at me--picked at my registration, told me there were two there, and that was the sign of a stolen car. I said, call it in. He did... oops. Then he said, "Well, you did a bad job of removing the old one!" I showed him my new plates, explained (again) about the short, spring break, etc... and he took two steps back. Then, the second and third cars drive off, no lights... and I got a warning about the late inspection which won't even be a fine if I bring evidence of current inspection as well as an explanation of why he had to pull me over.

Which is not only insulting but ridiculous: he saw me in the driveway of my building and pulled over, waited until I passed him, and pulled out behind me, lights flashing. So no inspection sticker--he wasn't close enough--no brake light--until he pulled me over--just "driving while poor."

Sigh.

Sadly, given the policemen's attitude, I guess this might end differently for people who are neither white nor work at a white collar job (like professor). While I admire policemen and believe most of them do a great job and keep us safe, are worthy of our respect for doing a tough job that makes our lives simple... wow!

Appearances seem to matter in so many ways.

Louie's

This little building lives across the street from one of my new coffee cafes.

I love it. The architectural details--windows, doors, angles--interest me. It is empty now, but used to be a bar called Louie's.

This is the side street view.

I took these pix during one of the hot, clear, surface-of-the-sun days here in DFW this week. This building, like my little cafe, is part of a neighborhood undergoing revival: lots of restaurants and bars so far, but not too many other kinds of shops. A new natural foods market I like very much is just around the corner, as well.

It is a bike destination, as well, given that it is a little farther than I've been thus far, as well and on and over some busy car-traffic streets.

Great to see this neighborhood becoming livelier, despite the economy, because it is a mixed area for Hispanic families and young artists, kind of an eclectic mix of residents who seem to be getting along (thus far) pretty well.

Pearl

Favorite House

Yesterday I went for a long walk after the rain finally passed. Surprisingly, it left the air cool and crisp--rather than heavy and sultry--which made for excellent walking weather.

In June? In Texas? Cannot pass that up!

On my walk I snapped this photo. This is one of my favorite houses, only about a 15-minute walk from where I live.

I admire it for two reasons. First, that it is private. The inhabitants have actually decided not to live their lives in everyone else's face. And second, the tumbled glass rock wall. Here's a closeup.

Even closer...

I think this is really killer. The wall is full of fist-sized glass rocks, and the end effect is also as if they had a wall of water. The texture and color are fantastic.

I should share with you some of the atrocities from the same neighborhood, just to give a reference point. The faux Tuscan villas, faux Loire chateaux, faux White Houses. Yeeech. Maybe I will. Just to point out that spending gobs of cash doesn't guarantee good taste, a lesson that cannot be pointed out too often.

In terms of the house above, I also love that they have retained the trees and built a smaller house--probably a greener house, in that case, given Texas heat in summer. Too many people are cutting down the old and beautiful Texas trees in order to build houses with bigger footprints. Yardprints? Whatever. Houses like this suggest to me delightful hidden lives, intimate and personal, carefully crafted. I know I am making all this up, but the mystery of the hidden lives behind such an attractive wall... hmm. Intriguing. And not defined by "making a statement" as the Tuscan/Loire/White House mansions do.

I wonder: in the faux Tuscan villas, do the owners dress up as Medici princes and order up ornate Renaissance banquets and pore over huge maps of Eastern lands while planning to conquer them with merchant vessels? When one visits friends there is one required to bring crystal rock reliqueries and chests of exotic fruits and paintings by Michelangelo? Or do they do like I do and bring over an unpretentious bottle of sauvignon blanc? Seems a lot of house for one unpretentious bottle. Or just to sit back and watch Dexter.

Pearl