AFRICA

AFRICA

10 13 26

We were on our way to Fallbrook when we passed the Goodyear airship along the 405.

Malik has been interested in blimps lately. He calls them airships, which, as it turns out, is technically correct. Goodyear still calls them blimps, but the newer models are actually semi-rigid airships.

I knew we'd pass it on our way down, and I wanted him to see it.

He saw it from his car seat.

I wanted to make a photograph so I could show it to him again later. 

I had planned to use my 135mm lens but forgot to switch from the 50mm.

Traffic was moving slowly, maybe 10 to 15 miles per hour. I photographed the airship and cropped the image afterward.

When I looked at the photograph, I noticed the black BMW in the foreground.

Oh, I got my old car too.

Her name was Africa.

Africa was a black 2000 BMW that I bought for $1,500 during COVID.

She was my first car.

A family mechanic named Carlo sold her to me. He had a shop in the Valley where he worked on Mercedes and BMWs. He handled my oil changes and repairs.

Before Africa, I was just a new driver to Carlo.

Sarah had a red 2018 BMW that was only about a year old at the time. Carlo would tell her not to let me drive it.

Haha.

When I bought Africa, I already knew what I wanted to change.
  
Black grille. Dark grey interior.
  
She already had black paint and black leather seats.
  
I started working on her almost immediately.

I replaced the grille, headlights, wheels, badges, and factory speakers. I installed the parts myself.

Then I started on the interior.

I'd never reupholstered anything before, but I removed the door panels and began covering the interior pieces with dark grey nubuck.

Adhesive, an X-Acto knife, and a lot of cutting.

I did the doors, trim, and even the seatbelt covers.

The black leather seats stayed black.

A lot of the work happened during spring and summer in the Valley, either in a garage or on a rooftop.

I wasn't documenting much of it. I was focused on fixing her up.

I washed and waxed her myself, sometimes in 95-degree heat.

I also paid for a few $200 details before deciding to do the cleaning myself.

I always backed Africa into the garage.

I liked seeing her front end when I approached.

Especially after installing the new headlights and black grille.

She looked exactly how I wanted her to look.

Whenever I brought her to Carlo's shop, he'd point her out to people.

"You see this car? Look what he did."

Haha.

The same man who once warned Sarah not to let me drive her BMW was now showing people what I'd done to mine.

Africa and Sarah's BMW looked good together.

Hers was red. Mine was black.

Sometimes we'd drive separately and pull up beside each other with our music blasting.

I'd usually have Nas playing.

Mostly Illmatic.

"Represent" has always been my favorite Nas track.

I had replaced Africa's factory speakers myself. Nothing elaborate. I wanted better sound, but I was also trying to show some restraint with how much money I put into her.

She was still a $1,500 car.

And she was getting old.

Africa broke down on me several times while I was running errands.

I'd take her back to Carlo, he'd make the repairs, and I'd keep driving.

At one point, I jokingly asked him how much it would cost to put a new engine in her.

He laughed.

I was serious about taking care of Africa, but I knew there were limits.

One day, I was out running errands when she started smoking.

I happened to be near an AutoZone and managed to get her into the parking lot.

I photographed her there.

Smoke coming from beneath the hood.

That was the last day I had Africa.

I'd owned her for about eight months.

There were still things I wanted to finish.

I'd removed the cupholders to replace them but never got around to installing the new ones. I had a touch-up paint kit for her Jet Black exterior that I never used.

I actually found that kit recently.

When I started looking through old photographs of Africa, I realized I didn't have many pictures of the work I'd done.

There were photographs of her parked outside Carlo's shop, photographs of her backed into the garage, and photographs of her sitting beside Sarah's BMW.

There was even the photograph of her smoking outside AutoZone.

But not much of the renovation itself.

I think I was simply focused on doing it.

Everyone around me knew what Africa looked like when I bought her and what she became.

I didn't need to photograph every step.

I just wanted to fix up my car.

And I did.

Years later, I'm driving along the 405 with Sarah and Malik, on our way to Fallbrook.

There's a Goodyear airship in the distance.

Malik sees it from his seat.

I make a photograph because I want him to be able to see it again.

And when I look at the image later, there's a black BMW passing through the foreground.

It reminds me of Africa.

The grey nubuck. The summer heat. The hours spent washing and waxing her. Carlo showing her off at the shop. Sarah pulling up beside me in her red BMW.

And that last afternoon at AutoZone.

All of that from a car that happened to be in the frame.

I was photographing an airship for my son.

And I got a photograph that reminded me of my first car, too.