An old Ford heads down the road – through rust, to reclamation…
It rests peacefully in a farmer’s field in Minnesota, where I visit it once in a great while, always expecting it to be gone. Turn off the gravel road, park at the gate and climb over it; the Ford is a ways up on a hill and you have to watch your step, because the cows come through. It’s been sitting there since forever; no one seems to know who owned it, or why it came to rest where it did.
Maybe it feels lonely at times; but the raccoons and coyotes stop by to visit. And it has its own little Christmas tree.
Inside, not much is left but a lot of stories that no one will ever hear… except the one about change… and the passage of time. But what a great view.