The first car I ever had was a ’69 Ford Futura, which was a fancy limited edition Falcon. This guy just looks so laid back, laying there on flat whitewalls with red spray-painted rims. The color of the car was rusted, but not into earth tone rust, but into a mix of blue and green. Had I started my feng shui junkyard in my field yet, and had I had money to waste on such idiotic notions, I definitely would’ve asked the old fucker polishing his New Balance sneakers (no shit, that was what he was doing) out front of this place how much he’d take for this hunk of shit.
Another wooded lounger. This is one of those cars that Bugsy Siegel or Karl Malone might’ve got killed in, or somebody might’ve ran moonshine with it, or F. Scott Fitzgerald could’ve been sitting in it on a hill in Baltimore when he wrote the national anthem and shit. Now, it’s just rotting away in the woods in central VA.
Old Dodge trucks are great looking trucks, and orange is a great looking color. Put them together, snake the doors and hood, and let a pile of leaves come billowing out the driver’s side opening, and for me, that’s plenty reason to waste a dollar’s worth of Polaroid film.
A car called a Rambler is a nicely named car. This particular one’s tireless position on the ground and lengthy Volvo-like appearance was interesting to me. Thus, I took this picture. It’s odd, because when you have rusted vehicles sitting in the woods, earth tones are in full effect; yet stupid hippie fuckers get all uptight about shit like old cars rotting away in the woods. I’d trade a million sniffs of patchouli in the air for one glimpse of something like this along a mountain path.
No comments:
Post a Comment