The aged wreck is permanently parked on the garage forecourt, not going anywhere and gradually accumulating filth. The deflated, disused tires that will never go on another journey – forever have lost every semblance of usefulness. Walking past the closed-down garage, it sits in exactly the same place. It gathers increasing inherit dust and the air in the punctured tires have seeped out – now empty.

There is something alluring that pulls the eye to the decrepit vehicle, with windows that don’t stay up, thick layers of road dust, like a blanket of time, stultifying the moments unreturning momentum. How long has it been there? Why is it still sitting there?

It’s hulk is parked in the shifting shadows of the night, but even there the obvious deterioration is not hidden amongst other such vehicles.

It sits there, disregarded and wasting. It’s purpose gone and not to be restored – a signpost of waste and the inevitable destination of the scrap merchants crushing machine, until it is finally destroyed.

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