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   (2006.06.20)

I was not aware that Spanish was intrinsically blue.

Logos on riveted steel panels read AIR RIDE EQUIPPED in a wavy red arrow, SUSPENSION À L’AIR in a yellow one, and SUSPENSION NEUMÁTICA in a blue one

French as intrinsically yellow I can get behind, though.

   (2006.06.19)

I suppose this is unremarkable on beaches in general. It is nonetheless a rather alien sighting one city block away from a major thoroughfare.

On a sandy beach between a boardwalk and the water, a red tractor pulls yellow trailer whose front face consists of steel cylinders
   (2006.06.17)

Oversharpening the photo gives the illusion that the ill-cut Cooper Black is raised out of the sign bed more than it is.

Sign over Men’s HAIRSTYLING place reads DANNY’s Barber Shop, mostly in ill-rendered Cooper Black

While this visual effect falsifies reality, I prefer it nonetheless.

   (2006.06.16)

Uncial, Frutiger (apparently), and tacked-on Helvetica all in one sign.

Archway sits over window panes and a door transom labelled Eastern Commerce in uncial, COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE in Frutiger, and 16 PHIN AVE in Helvetica

If you’re going to go uncial, why not go uncial all the way?

   (2006.06.16)

Just what it says. And some of them are bullshit problems

   (2006.06.13)
Recessed panel on hood of champagne-coloured car shows a pair of steel chevrons mounted on a black background
   (2006.06.13)

In which I am quoted in an industry newsletter

   (2006.06.10)

Just don’t park ’er nose to curb.

Close-up shows a Smart Fourtwo’s black fuel-filler cap, red reflector, and black tire amid a paint job of bright red, green, pink, and blue arcs and curls
   (2006.06.09)

My esteemed colleague and I were driving along King (for we drive and, yes, are as shatterers of worlds) and I found myself blurting out loud “Why is there a Citroën SM and why is there a Citroën DS?” In fact, there were seven Citroëns all in one place, including 2CVs and some late-model variety uncomfortably resembling a Lada Samara.

Baby-blue Citroën DS with white roof sits parked at curb between enclosed tree on sidewalk and passing streetcar

My eyes widened and I giggled and clapped my flat-outstretched hands like a schoolgirl. I made us stop the car. I took pictures until I ran out of juice. I talked to the SM owner. (“Whenever you show people a Citroën SM, they think The Longest Yard: ‘Don’t you take my Maserati!’ Except it isn’t a Maserati. It’s a Citroën; the engine is a Maserati.”) I watched various Eurotrash in too-tight and/or ruffled shirts and overlarge shades clutch their twee twine-handled shopping bags as they regarded these alien creatures.

Our philosophical question de la journée: If we know these things hike themselves up to drive away on their hydraulic suspensions, why do they have to hunch back down again once parked? The French showing off or something?

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