In a rural area
, on dirt and gravel road
s, we stopped by the barn
to visit our horse
. I kept bumping into an old man carrying a large clear plastic tube
filled with thin, limp, du Maurier cigarettes
. I saw him along the road, in the barn, in a restaurant
. While waiting for my meal in the restaurant
, I offered him one of my cigarettes
from my partially crushed pack. (I don't smoke
- perhaps a phalic symbol
?) The cigarette was still in perfect condition, thicker than the one hanging from the old man's mouth. He thanked me with a nod.
I also remember taking a dirt road that cut right through the scrap metal yard a few times. There were a lot of old vehicles especially chip wagons, vans and buses. The crushed and rusting buses were stacked neatly on top of one another in rows by manufacturer and model.
I was fascinated by all the decaying vehicles.