Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

I had a dream I got into a car wreck with my father's old car. Here is the obituary for the car.

Delivered in 1954, it arrived gleaming and bright. Purchased as a present for my grandmother by my grandfather, it was classy. As the years past, various hands held that large steering wheel, long before the days of power steering, it was a beast. I remember as a boy, my cousin and I, taking it for a spin. After my grandfather past away, it stayed put in the garage at my grandmothers until my father decided, it needed an overhaul. A month later, it emerged, just as new. A new coat of paint, matched to the original shade of fire engine red, and some modifications to the engine and frame it was ready. I remember the day I first sat in front of the steering wheel. The dashboard, an assortment of gauges and knobs, no modern car contained. Yet now, we stand here, at the final resting spot of this gorgeous piece of machinery. It's body smashed and faded, it's engine purr, no longer audible. It will truly be missed.