If you ever glance at the title of this thing you will notice that the location refers to BFE. BFE is an acronym for, well, you know what. The "E" used to stand for Egypt but now refers to "e"verywhere you are. For awhile I was in a small burg North of G-Burg, South of Alpha and west of New York City. I lived with my dog, Missy Marie, and this place was probably the second happiest place of my existence. In my most depressed state I wonder why I left. But then I remembered that I had a family elsewhere and who are we if don't have that? But I will always consider myself an honorary resident of BFE and it is one of the reasons why I now have a Cabin not far from there. If G-Burg was a long passionate night of love, then BFE was an equally satisfying early morning quickie. Kitschland? More like ED. But I digress.
The following pics are from BFE or areas close.
Outside Emerald City a ways toward BFE in an area of overgrowth next to a fence line lies the next-to-final resting place of this old combine. It begs the eternal question, at least for me in these instances, at what point did the owner decide to not deal with it and just let it rot away. Everything has some value. Even this hunk of metal has value to a junkyard. At the point where it stopped running it still had value, perhaps considerable. It was, after all moving at one point and then it stopped. Fix or not. Those are the thought processes that interest me.
While most of us like a well maintained front yard and will go to some lengths to make it so, others, sadly, have no such compunction. Compunction is a cool word. It can also be used in the context of "calling your punction".
Again, the interesting thing isn't the rusting autos. It is the decision to leave it in the front yard as more of a more challenging exercise in mowing.
I really tried to get a good picture of this old shed amidst the trees and shrubbery. The reason is because mostly hidden in the weeds is an old Model something-or-other. It may be a more interesting shot in winter. If you are on the road and travel next to this you know you are in BFE.
Old barns tend to draw photographers and I am no exception. This nice looking weathered structure is a mile and a half outside BFE and look straight west from this spot and you can see the skyline.
There isn't a city, town or village in the Midwest that hasn't been impacted in some fashion by the decline in the Rustbelt. Some declined before the present economy and BFE was one of them. Its demise was signaled by the re-routing of the railroad line. But then BFE's charms are not in its industry or conveniences. It lies in its anonymity.
There was a time when you could get a big hulking stone slab placed in your new building telling everyone exactly what you were built for. In this case, a new garage was constructed in town, presumably not to be confused with the grocery store or fire house. These signs-of-their-times sure beat the glaring otherworldly color of the new flashing signs in vogue today.
And while I am here, I might as well stop by the BFE Community Center and see if they have a cold one available.
P.S. They did and it is the coldest beer in town.