Final Project

Delica Dense

She sank in a puddle just two feet deep,
Her engine, once fierce, now struggles to breathe.
It tried to purr like a prowling puma,
But choked, like drowning in its own aroma.

No power, no pulse through her weary veins,
The blood of her heart can’t reach her brain.
The doctors shrug, they don’t understand,
They missed the clues right in their hands.

The gas gauge whispered its quiet despair,
Pointing to zero—was anyone aware?
New batteries, filters, and hours to spare,
A diesel leak patched, yet still we repair.

Fuses blown and hope stretched thin,
Her mystery lingers, where to begin?
She holds her secrets, broken but proud,
A puzzle unsolved, yet she draws a crowd.

Project Reflection

This project didn’t go as planned—at all. The trailer was supposed to capture my Delica cruising through storms, showing off its rugged charm as my winter lifeline up and down the mountain. Instead, the van broke down right when I needed it most, thanks to what I can only call “mocking dad energy” aimed at my husband, who spends way too much time fixing it.

With no chance of filming the van actually moving, I had to pivot. I started shooting the repair process—using a hair dryer on the air intake, uncovering a mouse house in the battery compartment, and countless failed diagnosis tests. But as the days dragged on, it got harder to get authentic shots, so I wrote some dialogue to stretch the intro and lean into the struggles of owning an old, impossible-to-fix Japanese collector’s van.

The final product became a mix of comedy and confession—a woman fully aware she’s too emotionally attached to her van, yet justifying it like she’s at an AA meeting. Delica Dense isn’t the trailer I set out to make, but it tells the story of loving something ridiculous and embracing the chaos that comes with it.