A guy in Columbia fixes up dump trucks and this was sitting there so I snapped it. I ended up having a long conversation with an old black guy about dump trucks and a forest fire in Buckingham that had smoked up our day that day. Some boy had died trying to fight the fire and old uneducated black men and younger educated white guys alike agreed that it was a shame. At least I agreed with the guy just to ease my way back on down the road. His wife came out of whoever she was visiting real quickly and looked at me as if I was about to commit some sort of affront to her husband. Columbia is a little town that was wiped out by floods decades ago and is a lot like the Bottoms in In the Heat of the Night, meaning there's not much there, but what is there has a high ratio of black people and hard drugs.
A little lounger sitting along a gravel road right near Scottsville downtown, on a car lot where some old guy thinks people have absolutely nowhere else on earth to buy a car, so he charges like double regular price. A few years back when we were looking for a family Subaru (my wife coveted that shit), he had one we looked at, but his price was crazy. We bought one in Amherst and have run that piece of shit to death. (By the way, Subarus - at least our's - are worthless electronically, which sucks because regular dudes like me can't fix electronics since I'm not a robot.) That shitty aqua-green Subaru is still sitting on that old guy's lot. He also has a cardboard cutout of someone peeking out of the window of the sales trailer, as if that was gonna scare somebody off who really wanted to steal his ragtag crap.
A second camper home, this one with nice '70s colorings, a grizzly bear spare tire cover, and a Jesus pseudo-license plate. I would have mad crazy nasty sex in a thing like this, but then it wouldn't look so nice, because after a couple of months of my swirl of chaos, the shit would be all fucked up and half-broke. People like me can't have nice things.
Hot rods in the Farmville Christmas Parade. They did weird cobblestones right at the courthouse in Farmville, which changed the dynamic of the parade. A few years back there was a hot rod Nova with a crucifixion scene on the hood, and the church was handing out Jack Chick pamphlets. Nothing like that this past year, but I fired up the Polaroid on a warm Sunday in December to capture a couple of hot rods, parading down Main Street, in honor of capitalist frenzy.
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