If nuclear explosions are starting to pop-up on interactive maps . . . and I'm awaiting my brood to return, I'll be sitting at the bench at the apex of the Salamander Loop, on the small pond.
It would be easy enough to be freaking out or stockpiling what I should have, long ago, but . . . few of us are thinking today is bus day. This end of life flurry requires a hermetically sealed moment or two, even if conditions aren't optimal. Optimal would have been no PO491 code after the brake job and a longer jaunt.
It would be best to happen now, all this human apocalypse. If so, the quiet hum of the E46 would have been the opening and closing scene of this indie flick. Just a Dad and the dog, driving to a spot because the end is nigh and well . . . just better to sit out in tranquility, than some chaotic nonsense in one's head, when nothing is in your control.
The art house crowd would appreciate a Edna St. Vincent Villay touch, if there was a shot of the Sears & Roebuck Barn. Perhaps they wouldn't have understood that the Circle Museum end scene was a precondition of the primary investor. The Director's cut would include the spot where Wayne Lo took out that poor dude, for no good reason. Unlike Henry Knox, who knew where he was going and why.
