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"There's nothing out in the desert. It's just a big wasteland." Hogwash! I find fascinating things out in the middle of nowhere, or places around it. For instance yesterday, Roger and I went for a ride and found a late model Ford F150 four door pickup out in the mi- okay, it wasn't in the middle of nowhere. That's where the gravesite is, right? But up on the ridges above Lone Mountain, on the side of a hill, in a place where we can't imagine HOW the truck got there, it sat, stuck in a draw.
It looked to be only a few years old, leather seats, nice wheels, fancy stuff. The driver had rolled it at least once down the hill and it stuck there.
What is the story behind this truck? One assumes it was stolen, and some idiots took it out on a joyride. Then they pushed the limits and rolled it, and the truck's life is over. Someone bought that truck new (not very long ago) and drove it home, proud and full of dreams. Going skiing, to the lake, towing the boat, carrying the family in comfort. Now, a few years later, it sits in the desert, a victim of the dark side of man. Someone has jumped on the roof and smashed it in. A wheel is stolen. The front passenger door is gone. Soon the seats will go, I just know it. And for myriad years, the truck will succumb to the ravages of man and nature. It's a sad thing, really. the truck is a sore on the beautiful desert landscape. From such excitement and hope, to a blister on the countryside.