Rise, fall, down, rise again

“I need to come home with you,” the steering wheel laying on the floor of a destroyed ’66 Plymouth Satellite said. “Take me with you.”

Sometimes I am a waystation for Things.

Things that are in transition, or Things that are waiting for the right moment, the right person, the right opportunity to become…whatever’s next.  Things that have been forgotten, or lost, or are simply between moments.  Things that are ready to be shredded back into their component parts so they can become new Things.  Things that need a bit of attention to become useful again.

This is why my garage is full of Things.  And the yard, sometimes.  This is why I collect scrap metal, and when there’s a trailer-full, it goes to the shredding yard to be turned into new Things.

Sometimes the Things are for me.  Sometimes I’m just holding on to them until the next stage of their journey.  I had an old Fiat and a Subaru Brat that were rescues, that hung around for a few years until the right person came along, and they moved on to the next thing.  At other times it’s been furniture, or books, or odd little widgets that just couldn’t be left behind.  They traveled with me until the right moment came along.  Just a waystation.

Sometimes I don’t know what they’re for until the moment comes.

This is one of those moments.  I look at Bovril and Terranova, and suddenly many of the Things that have stuck around the garage, not yet ready for scrap runs, not trash or recycling-bound, not ready to be given away or thrifted, make sense.,  This is what we’re here for, the Things sing.  We’re going to be again!

When I finish these rigs, there will be a lot of free space in the garage.

Space for new Things.