I’ve mentioned before that I like photographing things that show age. There is something about rust, cracks and wrinkles that shout out, “I have a story!”
We saw this old truck under a grove of trees during our visit to Oak Glen. Shrouded in shade, it sat there alone and forgotten. Rotted tires. Rusted metal. Missing headlights. It was beautiful. And it made me wonder what kind of stories it could tell.
Upon what roads had it traveled? How many first kisses had it seen? How much laughter had it heard? Did it remember the times of abundance and the times of scarcity? And what is it thinking now as the world passes by?