Now on to today’s business. I got to check out this property the other day, and I found myself drawn to the garage. The occupant appears to have been a muscle car enthusiast, specifically the Dodge Charger. The visuals in the garage were so rich that I had a tough time selecting a wide variety of shots to post here, so I’ve just put a few takes of the same subject.
The garage is a monument to Americana, like dropping into the spirit of a Springsteen song. It’s blue collar, dirt under the fingernails, broad shouldered. It’s the American dream, thwarted.
I was struck by how normal this garage looked. Normally, certain elements of the previous occupants have disappeared, presumably taken along to their next dwelling. But here, in this garage, it looked only as if the resident had shut down the shop for the evening, fully expecting to return to his vehicles the next day.
Even though it was cold, the smell of grease, gasoline, and old upholstery enveloped me. It was hard to tear myself away from this garage, but I had other jobs to complete that day. So I just snapped a few photos and went on my way.