This truck spoke to me as soon as I saw it, or... as soon as it saw me. It looked tired- worn out from years of hard work and abuse. The numbers painted on the doors, just below the cab windows, revealed a past history of being part of a fleet of working trucks. I imagined the bed filled with bales of hay, puttering through the fields waiting for the evening cool air to blow over its overheating hood. The wood cage that wrapped the bed has seen more sun than the surviving fences and gates that lined the property. I wasn't sure if it was there next to the road for sale or just for looks; I didn't care. It belonged there where it stood- admiring its own view of the mountainous landscape, deserving of its retirement. And in a way, it almost seemed appreciative to be seen as beautiful once more.
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