In Sonoma County, an old station wagon rests in the late afternoon sun. It’s a Plymouth Suburban, and it’s in pretty good shape for a car that’s probably more than 60 years old. Two other Suburbans’ sit in quiet retirement nearby, one gently surrendering itself to the elements, the other covered in lichen and moss like an old tombstone to an otherwise forgotten past.
You get the feeling from looking at it, that this old car is a trusty old worker, resilient and proudly defiant among those flashy young things from Asia and elsewhere. The paint job looks as if it might have once been a commercial, or government vehicle of some kind. If it was there’s no telling evidence these days. It’s history is fading like the paintwork as it lives out its golden years finding its way back and forth to this patch of grass just off Los Alamos Road just outside Santa Rosa, California. If it were able to talk, I’m sure it would have many a story to tell. But it’s a dignified old wagon, content to take its tales to wherever those forever days go.