"Useless, useless."

I was talking with Mike today about recent work he’s doing in rural Minnesota. As he enthused over “great faces, mud, twisted metal, beer and very loud engines” and the boys who miraculously get their crippled vehicles back in the hunt, I wondered whether they’re engaged in a right of passage to nowhere- this from the college boy one rung shy of a homeless shelter. Possibly due to that current malaise, I was highly affected by Mike’s image of the cratered pick-up #185. Something forlorn about the isolation, the jinkiness here. "Useless, useless" as Booth said. dvorakphotography.com