The windows were missing, the front grill replaced by wire mesh, the interior in shambles, I came across this vehicle along US 95. Its shape and vintage reminded me of a 1950’s Chevy which my father owned. Unlike the skeleton of the car that I photographed in the deserts of Nevada, on the street corners of the Bronx, my Dad was constantly repairing the Chevy of my youth well into the 1970's.