Page 105 - Demo

103unable to contain myself (even though I was repeatedly warned), I slid down that irresistibly slide-able rear end%u2014over and over again. I was usually quite well-behaved, but I simply couldn%u2019t stop.Rita%u2019s father had acquired the Hornet while working for Detroit%u2019s Hudson Motor Car Company. My Dad, too, had a job there at one time%u2014as a young draftsman. On his last day, Dad took with him some blueprints of the drawings he%u2019d been working on. Lee and I happened across them once%u2014rolled up and hidden (but not quite well enough) in the basement%u2014and asked him about them. He said they were designs for major engine innovations, ones that might even be revolutionary, but would never be realized. I could sense he was proud of what he%u2019d worked on, yet a bit guilty about bringing it home. I never saw the blueprints again.Now, John and I were standing in the midst of an entire overgrown field filled with Hudsons. But, it was more than just an unmowed back lot, it was a private resting place%u2014an anonymous vehicular graveyard. Here were four long rows of Hudsons, neatly laid out for eternity, side-by-side, obviously placed with care some decades earlier. There were a variety of models%u2014all Hudsons%u2014including Wasps, Jets, Hornets, even a few Hudson trucks. Each was badly decomposed, some had missing parts, some had been in accidents. Most had succumbed to the ravages of Time, in the form of a cancer-like, reddish-orange oxidation. Thick, tangled layers of vegetation had become a shroud for many, nearly engulfing them, a protection from prying eyes%u2014but not ours.For over an hour we paid our respects, and photographed them. John used his medium-format film camera, while I used a small digital camera, to capture gap-toothed grilles, ravaged upholstery, broken windshields, and rusted bumpers. As we walked back to our shiny, salsa-red Vibe, pulling burrs and sticky seeds from our jeans, we talked about what a great find this had been. We spoke about how those Hudsons had once been show-room perfect%u2014the pride of their owners. Now, they were bio-degrading, slowly turning to dust. I looked at John with a sudden disturbing thought, %u201cYou know, we%u2019re older than some of those cars.%u201dField of Hudsons%u2014somewhere in Indiana (838.12)Field of Hudsons%u2014somewhere in Indiana (837.06)