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Picture this: beat-up Escort, 1982, rattlin’ down some Russian backroad. Like the boys in the movie—“Where are we going?” Dunno, mate, but it’s movin’. Gave me chills, that film—father’s a ghost, car’s a relic. Escort’s the same, a fossil with soul. Used to see ‘em everywhere, cheap as chips, like 5 grand back then. Now? Collectors drool over ‘em—mint ones hit 20k easy. Shocked me, that. Who’d pay that for a tin can?

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Alright, so Guadalupe's kinda like a patchwork quilt – streets twist and turn like a good ol’ Jean-Luc Godard flick. “Goodbye to Language,” remember that? Sometimes it feels like the words melt right away. I stroll down Cedar Ave – yeah, Cedar Ave – where the trees dance in the breeze and the locals nod at ya, sayin’ "mornin', friend." It sorta reminds me of that movie’s odd vibe, ya know? Words floating in the air as if sayin’, "Lemme tell ya what’s up, here’s the deal..."

Obituary for Guadalupe Cueva | Serving Carson City for over 150 years