Like a beautiful vision from the past, it sat alone in the tall grass and weeds beside the old gray barn. Now a relic of another age it appeared sad resting on tires long flat and its varnished bed of wood, wet from the melting snow glowing in the early spring sun.
Time had taken its toll and the truck’s cab was filled with bird nests, cobwebs, and an old oil stained and a broken-down cardboard box filled with parts probably from its engine and transmission.
Its passenger side window was brown, half-opened and tilted sideways. The old green and beige vinyl bench-seat was worn through and the driver’s side appeared as though its springs had collapsed, leaning towards the door. The bone colored steering wheel now cracked from the cold of winter and hot summer sun appeared as ivory matching the nob on the rusted straight shift handle hanging down from the column to which it had been attached.
Long ago this had probably been its owner’s obsession, pampered, waxed every weekend and stored under an overhang next to the farmhouse when the weather was bad. Transporting him around town in pride, and when he took his children to and from the local school or market.
Now it was old just like it’s previous owner and worn from miles driven back and forth to and from the farm. Now it was alone and sitting beside a building that was way past its usefulness. A relic from another era and age, an oddity in today’s world. Yet it still had beauty, it still captured the eye and said, “look at me”.