It all started about a month ago when I was at a fabric store with my wife (hey, I don't tell you how to spend your free time.) As we were leaving, a flyer stuck to the window caught by attention. When I turned around to check it out, I saw what looked like the BACK TO THE FUTURE Delorean. It was the Delorean and, as I scanned the flyer, quickly perusing over the part about some quilt show, I found out that that car, the actual car from the movies, would be in front of that store on the Saturday before Mother's Day. (Because really, what says "I love you, Mom," better than a trip out to see a movie time machine?)
Yeah, that's me. I can't believe it either.
But reasons aside (it was actually a fundraiser for Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's charity), I knew without a doubt where I was going to be that day. I was seven when the first BACK TO THE FUTURE came out and movie-wise, the whole series was a pretty big part of my
childhood. And I loved that car. With the possible exception of the Batmobile from the 1989 original, the Delorean was my car of choice. I still remember scooting around the living room in an empty refrigerator box pretending I was in that time machine.
It wasn't on, not enough plutonium I guess.
The only questions that remained were a) who would come with me to take pictures of me in the Delorean, b) in the few weeks I had to prepare could I duplicate Marty McFly's outfit, and c) once I was behind the wheel of the car and it accidentally turned on and suddenly sped up to 88 mph, and I found myself transported well into the past (or future), would I have the wherewithal to get myself back to the present? (Okay, I guess that last one wasn't wearing on my mind too much).
My wife, although she giggled incessantly whenever I mentioned the Delorean, agreed to come with me and take the photos. The next step was the outfit.
After a search of three Goodwill stores I found what I was looking for: jean jacket, checkered-pattern shirt, and reddish-orange vest. So I was all set. (And as much as I asked, my wife refused to dress up like Jennifer, Marty's girlfriend).
Yup, that's the flux capacitor.
As the grand event came closer and closer, I could barely contain my excitement. Huey Lewis and the News songs constantly swam around my head. And then finally, the day had come.
We pulled into the mall parking lot (the irony of that wasn't lost on me, I can tell you; sure this was a mini-mall and not the big kind with an enormous lot, but still), and there it was: the beautiful, shining Delorean. The door was up and a couple of guys who probably hadn't been born yet when BACK TO THE FUTURE III came out were getting their pictures taken. I walked around the car; it was a little smaller than I'd thought it would be, but otherwise it was
just what I expected.
Oh, is there a Delorean time machine behind me? I hadn't noticed.
"Hey, Marty!" the guy running things said to me and shook my hand. I smiled, pleased my outfit hadn't gone unnoticed. He told me to watch my head as I got into the car and then I was behind the wheel of the freakin' BACK TO THE FUTURE Delorean! My wife snapped a few photos and although there were other people waiting, I took my time, wanting to soak it all in. There was the dashboard where the dates were entered and behind me the flux capacitor. On the seat next to me sat Marty's pink hover board. It was like a dream.
When I finally got out of the car, hitting my head on the door of course, I was in a daze. We took a few more photos -- I made sure to get one of Mr. Fusion -- and that was it. And as much as I hoped an old VW van would pull into the parking lot so I could yell "Oh no, it's the Libyans!" it didn't happen. But that's okay, it was still a phenomenal day.
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Thoughts, observations, conjectures, complaints about movies and mostly how they relate to me personally. If you're looking for something a little broader, try Ebert.
Born to write (literally – much to the displeasure of his mother, he emerged with a pencil clutched in one tiny fist), Tim spends most of his days crafting epic monosyllabic poems, new comical titles to his favorite Beatles' songs (Hey, Dude), and angry letters to local businesses that have wronged him in some way. He's really an okay guy once you get to know him.|
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