This is a mid-1950’s era Chevy dual rear wheel pickup, broken down and abandoned in the edge of someone’s pasture.
Blind in one eye, his mind still clear as the day his engine first coughed to life, this old boy rusts, and waits and wonders. The young’uns are busy up on the hill; busy with the sort of activity judged significant in youthful years. They’ve got an entirely new century mentioned in their identity numbers; there’s little to interest them down there across the field; only a rusting heap of an eyesore.
Ignorance is bliss, or so they say; who really cares that they’ll end up just like him, or worse; that he might tell them a thing or two that’ll cut them short of a permanently warped frame or cracked engine block; well, who cares; who needs him. It’s all about multi-port fuel injected turbo-charge, high to sky four-wheel drive, and the make/model label you’re sporting. Just live for today, they say; which seems to mean something entirely different than intended, which now seems to suggest that youth is everything and tomorrow you’re better off dead.
I’ve been told by people a lot smarter than me that the way the Communists succeeded in China where so many had failed before was this: in order to break the spirit of the Chinese people, in order to win them over to a totalitarian system, they had to teach them to disregard the wisdom of their elders. The old folks of China were no longer respected and revered. No one listened to the old people saying that something very insidious had captured their imagination. Not everyone ages gracefully, but I have a suspicion about the ones who do; I can’t help but wonder if perhaps they are ones seeing value in those who preceded them. Maybe heeding advice is something we have to practice to get good at. Maybe it’s the practice that teaches us who we really should be listening to.
Nikon D90, 70 mm, F/22, Gitzo tripod, Bogen head, HDR2 processed in PS CS5 from images exposed at +2,0 and -2 EV.