My head works in odd ways. I have an odd habit of imaging what life would have been like 200 or so years ago in almost every situation I am in, almost every place I go to. When I dream and it turns into a nightmare I weirdly see credits roll, or a page turn, like it’s a movie or a book. (Therefore I have no real reason to be afraid and I can enjoy the dream as an experience rather than a real situation.)
When I am bored and there is nothing else to do, I sometimes grab my camera and play a game with myself where I try and find as many things to photograph as I can in a small area I have defined. I sometimes catch myself making up stories for what might-have-been.
I work near an empty lot that has had old cars and vehicles and a ton of other miscellaneous items behind it’s fence for longer than I have been in this area. A colony of feral cats I care for sometimes lounges in this fenced area, which is mostly safe from predators. I have taken photos here before, but I like to press myself to see something new in an old spot.
Keep in mind, most of these photos you never see. They are not very noteworthy, often more practice for my photography skills, and an exercise in forcing me to be creative.
And I thought I’d share some photos of the last time I was in the abandoned lot photos, and the stories, with you. I’d be interested in knowing if you do anything similar? What practices do you have that keep your creative juices flowing?
The first two photos are of a blue Ford Galaxy, to my knowledge a 1960′s model. Sleek and sweet, I couldn’t help but imagine a family in this car driving to Santa Fe from Albuquerque on US Highway 85. Perhaps they are going to see Grandmother, or to visit Camel Rock. (there is no casino there yet, just a small mom and pop trading post where you can pick up an ice cold root beer for a dime. Driving the car Dad has his arm out the window, cigarette in hand, humming along to the sweet crooning voice of Johnny Rivers singing Baby, I Need Your Lovin’, Mom with a Big Red soda sipping and watching the scenery pass along, hoping to God the kids won’t need to go to the bathroom until Santa Fe. In the back seat a couple of kids are working on coloring books, engaging in elbow wars every ten minutes or so until mom turns around and shoots them a scowl.
I imagine when the new owner bought this car, he stood at the back and admired her perfect new finish, picturing the looks of envy from his friends.
This is one of the cats I take care of, we call her Gracious, or Gray. She’s been here almost two years, and probably knows the inside of every car on this lot. She had a liter of kittens here this summer, and watched them play under the trees and among the worn tires until they were old enough that I could find homes for them.
This is a huge work truck with a very long and wide flat bed on it. The bed is long thick planks of wood, and I imagine that it was once the means for a great deal of brick or some other heavy material was transported to people all around the Albuquerque area. I wonder how far the driver went with his loads, did he know hi customers by name, on a route he enjoyed driving on a regular basis? Or perhaps every face was a new one, and has he wove his way down the road, he looked forward to relaxing when he got home.
This is Mischief, our chief mouser. Before she arrived we had a serious mouse problem, and she can be often see trotting off to enjoy her Catch of the Day.
The large mattress she is standing on could be old or fairly new. I can’t help by wonder how many heads have napped here, once upon a time. Did newly weds cuddle here? Did someone lay on one side, feeling lonely and unable to sleep? Did a couple of small children snuggle with mom and dad on a Saturday morning?
This was interesting. A Nuclear Densometer Checklist. The date on it is from 1989 – - twenty one years these papers have managed to stay intact in the back seat of this old Plymouth Duster. According to Wikipedia, “A Nuclear Densometer Test is a field test used in geotechnical engineering. The test is performed on a compacted base to establish its percentage of compaction.” Below this picture is a photo of what I found in the front seat and my musings on why these papers are still in here.
Schaefer Beer cans, hard to tell how old they are, but one of them was stuck pretty hard to the floor board in the front. Was Mr or Ms Duster driver drinking while driving their car, perhaps on the way home from doing a Nuclear Densometer Test? Hm, maybe a car accident would explain leaving all the paperwork on the back seat…
Just a note, but my husband shudders when he mentions this beer.
A dirty t-shirt, not so old from the look of it, half buried in the dirt. Perhaps left here by a young man after a tryst with a pretty girl in an abandoned lot. Maybe a car drove by and slowed down, and in a startled rush in the dark Romeo couldn’t find the shirt, now a half buried reminder of kisses and romance.
The shoe, worn out and caked with dust, a goat head sticker plant using it as a trellis surely came from a teen who once tossed his shoes over the power line on a hot summer afternoon. He and his friends, bored and baking decide this is a good way to leave their mark on the world, and it takes probably thirty wild throws before his shoes catch hold. The shoes hang there for over a year, annoying the crap out of a crotchety business owner nearby who likes to mutter about delinquents, until the following summer during the wet monsoons the strings break, one shoe bouncing into the road, the other landing in the lot where it still sits today.
A young man who fancies himself cowboy material saves up and buys himself a felt hat and a pickup, figuring when he’s not driving with a pretty gal under his arm, he can charge his buddies a quick $20 to move their crap when they call him. But the highlight of owning the truck ends up being the day he and his dad drive to the Pecos to go fishing together the year before Dad dies, and they have one of the best days of the young mans life on the tail of that truck, drinking beer.
Once upon a time a young woman stood in front of this car with this very same view. She liked mechanics, loved cars, and revels in the fact that it is way cooler than her older brothers Corolla.
When I was in high school my father ignored my pleas for a Chevelle Super Sport and got me instead a very rough, blue Dodge Dart Swinger. I grew to love that car, and my friends and I christened her ‘The Blue Maggot’. (more story there than I can fit here.) I slipped this photo in, sans story, for sentimental reasons. Insert your own sentimental meanderings below.
Love it or hate it, that’s how this ole head of mine works. How I process what I see. Whatever else it is or isn’t… it’s always fun. 
