Road Trippin': A Memorial to the Road Trip

...and the vintage cars that helped us get there

This time last year I started a daily photo challenge for the month of January – wandering around Upstate, SC taking impressions of my surroundings. The result was a collection of images that on reflection embodied the overlooked beauty of decay – a broken down car, an abandoned factory, and leaves scattered on the ground. There is, however, nothing morbid within this theme, for with decay comes regeneration.

So, it is only fitting that I approach this new year with renewed enthusiasm for my surroundings. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve never taken them for granted, but clearly I have become distracted (by what, I don’t really know) and have for the most part neglected my posts. With that, came the realization that I crave an outlet for expression that can’t be bound by a single, fleeing image, or a thought lost in one scroll, instantaneous and insignificant next to adverts for hand made tool boxes and fast-motion videos of how to make Mexican 5-layer dip.

After three weeks on the road driving through 11 states from South Carolina to Arizona and back, I have accumulated a series of photographs and reflections. Our last day was spent in White, GA at a classic car junk yard called Old Car City USA that is a memorial to vintage automobiles in various stages of disarray. Walking along the 6-miles of wooded trails had a similar feel to walking in a natural cathedral – peaceful, solemn and reflective. Maybe it was because I’d been sitting in a car for the past 3 days, driving across middle America with it’s vast lands, post-apocalyptic oil fields, and industrial beef production facilities (no, the irony is not lost to me), but I was taken by the industriousness of these rusting carriages that once embodied the spirit of consumerism, travel and progress.


The whimsical yet contrived arrangement of the cars was particularly appreciated – though I am uncertain what the ‘artists’ intentions where, the effect made me smile none-the-less.