This photo may or may not have been unlawfully lifted from my friend’s Facebook page. . .
The idling purr of the Ute’s engine saw to it that the golden sword the barbie doll held above her head vibrated ever so slightly as the driver waited at the lights. The battle axe the toy T-Rex grasped with its left claw and the shield it gripped with its right, also echoed the rumble of the Ute’s motor. But it wasn’t until this Ute took off that the real show began. As each time the driver changed gears, the barbie doll, who rode on the back of this toy T-Rex, rocked back and forth in a way that mirrored a warrior and his war horse galloping into battle.
Legend has it that in the southern suburbs of Perth, Western Australia there was once a red work Ute whose custom-made hood ornament outshone all others. A hood ornament so exquisite that when the sun’s rays struck its golden spray-painted exterior all those who laid eyes upon it couldn’t help but smile. A hood ornament so fun that it would leave any child who saw it overcome with joy. A hood ornament so humorous that even the parents of these over-excited children would chuckle at this unconventional embellishment. And a hood ornament so extraordinary that it left you wondering: what sort of eccentric genius would fix such a thing to their Ute?
How do I know of this legend?
I have ridden shotgun in this Ute, as I am lucky enough to call this eccentric genius a friend.
The friend in question will not be named. Not to hide his identity; after all, anyone who knows the legend of the hood ornament knows exactly who I’m talking about. But rather, because much like me, the friend in question understands the problem with labels. That which can be labeled is that which has been reduced, defined, and boxed-in – and there isn’t a hope in hell of doing such things to my friend. In fact, just trying to capture even a hint of the infectious magic that emanates through my friend is the reason this piece has been haunting my drafts pile for such a long time.
Watching waves crash on the shore has this way of shifting my perspective. Somehow, the compulsive urge I feel to incessantly run around chasing my goals, crossing off to-do lists, and optimizing my time – is momentarily swept away by the majesty of the ocean.
My friend has a similar effect on me.
As I have just alluded – I am obsessively driven. So much so that my compulsion to ceaselessly march towards my goals often leads me to fall into all kinds of traps. I forget about the importance of balance. I forget about the value of rest. I forget about the power of play. And even though in the back of my mind I know it is not helpful, healthy, or sane to plan out every moment of my day in advance so I can squeeze in as much ‘hustling’ as humanly possible – this is my default way of being. And I’m ashamed to admit that this way of existing often makes me feel like any moment that isn’t directed towards achieving my goals is nothing but a waste of time.
This is how my friend shifts my perspective: by reminding me of the power of whimsy.
Time and time again I have seen how my friend’s whimsical nature has brought joy to others. Like the time he built a skate-able duck pond in our backyard so that before we filled it with water for our pet duck, ‘JamQuackster’, me and another friend spent the entire day and night having the best time skating in it. I have seen how his whimsical nature reminds others not to take themselves so seriously. Such as the time my friend – who is a big burly tradie in his 50s – painted all his nails pink just to give the other tradie’s a laugh. And I have seen how his whimsical nature encapsulates the dying practice of doing things for the sheer sake of doing them. This was best evidenced by the time my friend spent weeks cutting pavers into the pattern of a ying-yang symbol, to then pave a small area in the backyard of our rental property – even though it was soon to be demolished.
While I could go on and on about the humorous and outlandish ways my friend has shown me the power of whimsy, I think the best way to capture the point is to return to the passenger’s seat of that Ute…
As I watched that barbie doll and her Jurassic steed rock back and forth mimicking the motions of the Ute, I noticed my friend reach over the steering wheel to nudge this bobble-head-like bumble-bee figurine that was stuck to his dashboard. Noticing me notice him, he smiled and said:
“Barbie can’t be the only one having fun – the Bee’s gotta be bopping too”.
Watching on as my friend began to bop his own head in-tune with the rhythms of that bumble-bee figurine I realised that the magical quality he emanates is the same as that of a child. And that through his whimsical nature he reminds everyone lucky enough to be around him of something we all intuitively knew as kids: play is never a waste of time.
:)
This reminds me of a hit piece I recently read about dog owners…the gist was basically "how we owners are quite lame and ridiculous as we spendhours on end watching dogs chase sticks, balls and their own tails…how simple-minded we must be to be entertained by this etc"….but the thing that captivates us is actually to witness a creature that fully and completely exists in their joy and in the moment. We just want to share in that without ambition, worry, greed or, worst of all, self-consciousness..just like your bud :)
Hahhaa I want to meet your mate Michael. He sounds like a freaking legend! I really enjoyed reading all about him and how he makes life playful again. Now — where can I get my own copy of the sword-weilding-barbie-riding-T-Rex hood ornament?