Earlier this week, Tracy and I got into the car with the goal of finding the last standing Shell Station shaped like a shell (located in Winston-Salem, NC). Tracy had printed out a Google Map, trusting that Google, in all of its mathematical and geographical wisdom, would get us there in the most efficient way possible.
This time, however, the directions were filled with all sorts of crazy mazes and turns - not at all the route I would've planned for us - but we decided, as it was a day of adventure, to put our trust in Google and let it guide us. On the way, a mere two blocks from our house, we passed the Lake Jeanette Bookmobile. I was ready to stop then and there. My adventure just hit its climax. I had no idea that these creatures still existed. I wanted to get out and take pictures of this dinosaur, this throwback to an era of Marian the Librarian & pearl wearing housewives. There is just something about containing a library in something compact and mobile that fits with my aesthetic for all things self propelling/self feeding (Automat; Art-o-mat; etc). We continued on, however, saving the bookmobile for another day.
We wound our way through Greensboro onto I-40 and into some rougher hit neighborhoods of Winston-Salem, where we found, hidden among houses with barred windows, crammed onto a very small corner lot - the last standing Shell Station shaped like a shell. Our van filled the space between this architectural treasure of 1930 and the sidewalk. In a neighborhood where people do their best against, what would seem, less than good odds, it is the most well maintained structure.
It's a toy. A gimmick. It's not practical. It's not efficient. It was very clearly designed and built by humans. It has character and history. We would never see this kind of imagination and playfulness infiltrate such a corporate entity today. It's as if the Shell station of the 1930s represents the childhood of our collective culture, and we've since grown up.
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