Cool Cool Car With Girls images today

Some cool cool car with girls images today:

Cute smirk


Image by Alaskan Dude
We had a group shoot at a cool place, the Boot Hill Auto Salvage Yard near Butte, Alaska back in August 2010. The location was incredible – the place is full of classic cars and trucks in various stages of disrepair – it was a photographers dream – and toss Brittani into the mix and you have one of those "Life is very, very good days".

Brittani is one of our shooters group favorite models – she is an absolute blast to shoot with, drop dead gorgeous with brown hair, brown eyes, and great legs plus a very fun attitude. On this day she dressed up like a gangster’s girl. Eric, Bee’s boyfriend was there but I didn’t have a chance to shoot with him – but my fellow shooters got some great couple shots of them. Thanks for yet another great shoot Bee!

Image by wakingphotolife:
Expecting.
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A black New York Yankee's cap and large dark framed glasses–I told her to look for them at the arrival gate. Though I also told her that it wasn't necessary to pick me up from the airport, that I was fine with getting to her apartment on my own, she had insisted. "I appreciate it," I said. In New York, Charlene had not even offered to. I got from JFK to Stonybrook on my own.

Ying was thinner than the photos. She wore a too large blue cardigan that hid her wrists and made it appear as if she was in a constant slouch. Underneath the sweater was a pale floral patterned dress that came down to her knees. She finished with brown boots. Sloppy but relaxed. California. She saw me before I saw her and waved as I was coming out of the gate.

I extended my hand out and she shook it. I thought it was an odd thing to do but it seemed natural. Waving back and simply saying "Hello" seemed not enough. And we were not familiar enough for a hug. What was I doing here?

"I"m Kevin," I said.
"I know," she said, "It's been a while. You look much different from the last time I saw you."

I had lost a lot of weight since my teenage years. Back then, I was rounder, baby fat not willing to let go of childhood yet. My mother and the girls at school teased my chipmunk cheeks. My mother pinched them whenever I feel asleep on the sofa while watching TV. After my second year of college, whenever she saw my sculpted face, relatively so, and put her hands around my arms to feel them she said, "You're a man now. Handsome."

"How was your flight?" Ying said. She brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen by her face behind her left ear. They were not pierced.
"It was shorter than I imagined. Nothing like the flight from Taiwan. I slept the entire way here."
"Are you hungry? We can get something to eat around here if you'd like."
"Let's just go back to your place first. I still have to book a hotel later. How did you get here?"
"I took the subway."
"You shouldn't have bothered," I said.
"Actually, I don't have live too far from here. It's only 15 minutes away."
"I see."
We walked through the airport to where the subway entrance was. It was inside the airport she told me. Outside, cars, vans and taxis dropped people off or picked them up. I had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and it was not so busy.

San Francisco was not as gray as New York. It reminded me of home, Hualien. In some ways. The blue sky. The sunshine. The casualness of the traffic and the way people dressed and moved. It was how California appeared to me in the movies.

Ying walked a step ahead of me, occasionally turning back to look over her shoulder as I dragged my luggage. One roller trailing behind me. One carry-on on my shoulder. The things inside would carry me through the month. Two weeks with Charlene became a week and a half last night. Now there was the rest of the time. I didnt' tell Ying how long I was staying for. I imagined it'd only be a few days. I could change the ticket and go back home anytime I wanted.

The only things I left in New York was a pair of dress socks and underwear. I didn't realize that I had left them underneath her desk until I was well over Utah.

"The weather is not much different than in Hualien," I said.
"It isn't. You'll like it here."
"I think I would. Do you remember much from when you use to live there?"
"Not really. We were there for only three years."
Three years is a long time I thought to myself.
"You know, I don't remember the time you visited. I'm not even sure if it happened. Your uncle and our parents always mention it whenever you come up."
"They mention me?" She turned and waited for me to catch up. We were taking the escalator down to the station entrance.
"Once in a while." Had I said something wrong? Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it.

We didn't talk the rest of the way. On the subway, her phone rang and she took the time to respond to the messages.

"I talked to my roommates. They're fine with you staying for a few days so you don't have to feel so rushed. They're nice people."
"We'll see," I said, "I mean about staying."

I hadn't noticed we automatically talked in English. It felt natural. Being here, my Mandarin seemed out of place. I hadn't felt this way when I was Charlene. She hated talking to me in English unless she had to. And she was always self-conscious of her accent, taking time to unfurl each word with full precision as if it to give them more weight–therefore, however, musn't, stay here, why do you have to go, please leave. I had none.

We got off the subway a few minutes later. We call it the BART, she said. She pointed out her stop on the map after we exited the ticketing gates. Balboa Park. It's easy to find she said, there isn't too much around here, but you can go here and here, she pointed at the adjacent stops. The Mission, it's called. She told me these things in a dry and precise tone.

"You look tired." She sat next to me with her hands crossed in her lap.
"I guess. I didn't get much sleep last night," I said.
"Oh?"
"I was packing." The truth was I was having a passionate goodbye fuck.
"I was surprised that you would call. When my mom told me, I didn't think you'd actually come to visit."
"I hadn't planned to either."
"What were you doing in New York?"
"Just travelling and visiting friends here and there. What else did your mom tell you?"
"Not much. Just that you were visiting America for the month and that you were in New York."

We turned right at a street corner. "This is my place," she said. "We're renting the basement. The lady upstairs is a quiet Chinese woman. She doesn't come down too often."
The house was a pink with white trimmings. Down the street were similar houses in different colors. A pale green one across the street. A deep teal next to it. Her place was behind a library and a college.
"Is that your school?"
"No. That's the community college. But it's summer so there aren't too many people around."
She opened the door next to the garage and led me inside. Past the garage, we went through another door into the apartment. The air smelled of rodents and damp grass. A sofa bed was extended out in the living room in front of a small television set. In the corner of the room was a cage with a black rabbit gnawing at the wires. "That's Petri," Ying said. "She's my roommates'."

I set my luggage against the wall. "And this is Denise and Tom, my roommates"
They were reclined on the sofa bed eating ice cream. They turned away from the TV and said hello. I took my cap off and said hi. "If you want, you can just put your things in my room for now."

We went into her room. Cardboard boxes were lined against one wall. Dirty laundry on the floor. Her desk was cluttered with papers in front of her laptop. "Sorry, I haven't had time to clean. It was so sudden."
I felt a little bad for the short notice but didn't say anything. "I don't mind. My friend's apartment was much worse than this," I said.
I looked at one of the papers. "What are you studying?"
"Psychology." She set her cardigan onto the bed and lifted a pile of clothes off the floor, putting them into a basket hamper next to the closet.
"Are you planning to go into clinical?"
"I guess. What about you?"
"Engineering but I don't know now. I want to switch out of it but I'm kind of stuck. I only have a year and a half left."
"You don't seem like an engineer."
"What makes you say that?"
She put her hands, the back of her wrists, against her hip. Held at this angle, back-lit by the small window on the wall behind her, her arms were slender and I hadn't noticed how bony her fingers were during the subway ride back, like piano players.
"I don't know. You just don't seem like one."
"You're right though, I don't feel like one either. What time is it?" I had left my watch on Charlene's desk too. I'd ask her to send it back to my address in Taiwan later, I'll pay for the shipping, I'd tell her.
"It's one. Are you hungry?"
"A bit."
"There's a cafe down the street from here that has milk tea. We can go there. Or we can have McDonalds if you'd like."
"The cafe's fine."
"Okay. Give me a second to tidy."
"I'll wait for you outside."

Ying closed her door.

I stood against the wall and watched what Tom and Denise were watching. Some Korean drama, I didn't bother to read the subtitles, where the girls are excruciatingly pale cute and the men, effeminate. "So you’re from Taiwan too?" Denise asked.
"Yeah." I was certain that Ying had told them already.
"Ying's from Taiwan too."
I know.
"We grew up together in the same city. Our mom's are close friends," I said.
"That's cool. So you're like cousins," Tom said.

They were westerners. Denise was blonde haired and blue eyed. Tom was darker. I was reminded of the exchange students at the university who occasionally came into the library for help with their Mandarin. Or at the bars with the Chinese girlfriends draped around them. I felt nothing but scorn for them; I thought of Charlene's other boyfriend. Tall, dark, muscular, stupid and always smiling. Even in front of my face as we went to dinner together one night.

"But you're not together anymore right?" I overheard them saying in the back of the taxi as I pretended to have fallen asleep in the front passenger seat. I caught a reflection as we passed a store window, he leaned in to kiss her neck but she pulled away. I felt sick being in the same cab.
"Just a few more days," Charlene whispered. She was fine talking in English then.

I realized then there was no point. I would just deal with it and find my comfort in another. Feelings and attachments had little to do with anything I was beginning to realize. Maybe this is why I was here in San Francisco.

"Yeah it is," I said to Tom. "I'm going out for a smoke. I've seen this one before. It's funny. You guys enjoy."
I had noticed an ash tray on the table so I felt okay revealing this.

I sat down on the curb and took out a pack of Marlboro’s I had bought at a gift shop during my transit in Utah. It tasted slightly acidic and sour, but still, was better than the Long Life's and Kents I had back home.
Ying came out in a different dress. This one was navy blue with a thin dark sash around the waist that hung untied. She wore Ray-Ban sunglasses and had left the cardigan in the room. Unlike Hualien, the air here was cold. I stubbed the cigarette out underneath my Converses.
"Hey there. You smoke?"
"Once in a while." I regretted a little that she knew this about me. I try to keep it away from the people close to me. Was she close though? But I had not had one all day and I was feeling the itch for it. Whoever was around.
"No worries. I'll have one too."
She took a pack of Camels out from her purse and held it in between her lips. The San Franciso wind blew, causing the hem of her blue dress to press against her legs as she struggled with the lighter.
"Here." I lit hers for her. I cupped my hands, careful of the hair that flowed around it.
"I've always wanted a nice one." She held my lighter in her palm and moved a finger over the silver casing.
"You can have it," I said. I meant it.
"No. I can't take it." She smiled. I noticed the two rabbit's teeth before she pursed her lips back together.

The milk tea and snacks at the cafe were sub-par, nothing like what was offered in Taiwan. And I told her so.
"It reminds me of home though."
"You mean Macau?"
"Taiwan I mean. I didn't live in Macau for too long before I came here. Just a year. So I don't have any strong feelings or memories of it yet."
"How's Macau?"
"It's okay. I stayed home most of the time.There wasn't much to do."
"I stayed at your house last summer," I said. "It was just before you left. Your parents and my mom were out at the casinos. I like your apartment. It's very quiet and clean."
"Did you enjoy Macau?"
"I did. It would have been nice if I had stayed for a bit longer."

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