Shining The Light On Old Journals

One of the “presents” my Mom gave me for Christmas was an old notebook she found that I had used for doodling and story writing when I was 12. 

I honestly don’t remember writing the cartoons, stories or doodles that fill its pages, but I do remember being a girl who could have written them. Flipping through the pages, it is clear that I watched way too much television (the M*A*S*H* doodles on the cover remind me that I watched that show on a regular basis) and was interested in advertising (there are several cartoons of commercials and magazine ads). They also show me that I already was my own worst critic, as several stories are annotated with editorial critiques! 

The story that left me doubled-over with laughter as I re-read it is entitled Headlights. If I were giving it a title today, I think I would call it The Angst of The Left Headlight. 

Headlights

This is a story about two headlights, and what things they think and feel during a trip from Maine to Florida. Of course, each headlight has its own thoughts and sees different things. The story will be divided into two parts. Part one, the left headlight and Part two, the right headlight. 

Part One

Hello, I’m the left headlight on a ’78 Mustang. This is a diary of my trip from Maine to Florida. Naturally I sleep during the day if it’s good weather, otherwise I am awake at night. 

Here comes the owners, John and little Ann. John got in the driver’s seat and turned me on (it was a foggy morning). We pulled out of the driveway onto the road. Being the left headlight, I got the less scenic route. All I see is other cars and road signs. The fog is lifting and I’m going to sleep.

Here I am again. It’s night now. We’re on a super highway, we’re about to pass a slow car. I’m on full strength now. Change that–I was just dimmed. It’s awful, you know, being a headlight. I know it’s an important job, but I’d rather be a steering wheel, at least then your strength can’t be reduced by the flick of a switch. Well, it’s not that bad on a highway, but on smaller roads at night I’m usually on strong, but when a car comes I get weakened, and when it passes my strength is restored. 

I just shined on an exit sign and now the car is exiting. I think we’re stopping for the night, after all we’re somewhere in New Jersey. Wouldn’t you know, we’re driving on a small road! Just as I expected, we pulled into a hotel–I think a Holiday Inn. Well, see you tomorrow night. 

Here I am again, a little earlier than I expected. It’s raining, more like pouring. We’re back on the highway, and we’ve been driving for about an hour. The rain is stopping and I think that I’ll be resting in a minute. 

Hi again. We’re in N.C. I was just turned on as we crossed the state line. I’m on full strength now and we’re passing a Purina Pet Food truck. Now there’s no one ahead of us for a long time. That kind of makes it boring for me–all that I see is black pavement with white dotted lines. Once I got so bored that I counted those lines, but I only got to 273.

I can tell that we’re going south. The weather is considerably warmer. We may even be in Georgia. 

Ah, at last a group of cars. I like looking at cars. Once I even winked at a Subaru Brat. I know all the names of all the cars. We’re passing a Datsun, an Aspen, and a very cute convertible. 

This is a boring trip. I wish that there were more signs to read. There are hardly any exits or billboard advertisements. 

That’s where the story ends. I hope you liked it more than I did at the time. The note on the top right corner of the page says:

Comments–
I hated this story.
It was poorly written.
Bad vocabulary used.

Reading this on Christmas, I cracked up at the angst that the headlight expresses (even if that word wasn’t part of my vocabulary back then!) and did a double-take when I got to the part about winking at a Subaru Brat. You see, when I met my husband, he was driving a Subaru Brat–did I somehow know that was my destiny?

Do you have any old journals?

Do you remember writing what you wrote in them?