Mirrored Shade

Strolling past that milk crate, I spotted a faded serape blanket spread out on the grass, loaded with dusty yard-sale overflow. Right in the middle sat a pair of oversized, wrap-around speed sunglasses with rainbow iridium lenses. Total vintage motorsport gold. I marched up the coarse wool folds, grabbed the thick plastic temple arm with both hands, and hauled it open with a loud plastic creak. Levered the curved frame upright until the mirrored shield stood straight like a tinted privacy barrier. Stepped in close to check my wide grin in the iridescent purple flare. Cleanest reflection on the block, and the shade cut the harsh afternoon glare completely.