Residents of another country junkyard
These cars were all cast aside. When they were new, their gleaming chrome and bright whitewalls brought out the neighbors for a look, their kids for a ride around the block. Each one of these made someones’s dad king for a day. Now gathered together on a lonely patch of grassland they wait. Likely none will ever again honk at girls or peel that one tire. They wait, in silence slowly returning to the earth. That is until I see some chrome or a tailfin out of the corner of my eye, and turn the car around because I can’t help it. To a certain kind of gearhead, This is church, the holy of holies. For an hour once in a blue moon they cease to be mass produced junk that no one wanted, and to the right eye they’re even more beautiful than that day your dad was the king.
one of 300 69 Beaumont wagons
NEAT! -and upon closer inspection-
Wow! super neat! I’d never actually seen one.
An old Jimmy watches his flock from the hilltop.