I love decay especially when it applies to anything abandoned. Where some see ugliness, I see beauty.
Take an abandoned house. The house as a whole is beautiful, but then isolate parts of the house: a sagging window with an old, shredded and faded floral curtain snagged on a jagged shard of window pane, or a shutter hanging askew, its surface a relief map of peeling paint. Or, if you’re lucky and can walk through the house, rooms with stained and peeling wallpaper, fireplaces with once beautiful and expensive architectural elements that have sadly fallen victim to vandals; that’s when you can appreciate its real beauty. When I am fortunate enough to stumble across such a photographic find, which isn’t often, questions like -- who lived here, how long did they live here, why did they leave bounce around inside my head. I also think if the walls could talk what would they tell me?
But this post is not about an abandoned house but an abandoned Ford F-100 pickup truck sitting so long by the side of the road that its tires have sagged comfortably into the grass on which it sits as if it's finally given up waiting for its owner to appear. Its once red color, at least I think it was red, has gradually faded to a rusted, mauve color.
I’ve passed this truck more than several times and every time I pass it, I wonder who owned it and why is it parked there? Why not in the shaded side yard alongside the house that’s a stone’s throw away? License plates are still affixed to the front and back as if any minute the owner might jump behind the wheel, fire it up and zoom off into the sunset. Okay, maybe not zoom, maybe a slow putt-putt down the road.
It is doubtful I’ll ever have answers to my questions and one day I will drive by and the truck will be gone either for parts or to the junk yard. Most likely the latter. But in a world where obsolescence is built in and we live in a throwaway society, it’s nice to know I lived in a world, and a time, where things were built to last.