Words : Simon Coulson
Photographs : Simon Coulson
Date : Summer 2008
Location : California, Desert
Weather : Sunny, very
Light : Lots Of It

California – Lust & Rust in the Desert

I found myself about 100 miles out of LA with a morning to spare, children are happily playing on Nintendos and the missus is relaxing with a book on the hotel balcony...I just need something to do; Swimming? It was certainly hot enough and the unheated water of the pool promised cooling beyond the realms of even the iciest of hotel aircon systems. Cinema? Not on my own, I’ll save that for a family outing. Skatepark? If only I’d bought my board – but even if I had the sweltering desert heat would mean that the tiniest Ollie or carve would leave my aging bulk sweating well beyond acceptable skatepark etiquette. This is a circumstance where internet access and a trusty laptop can be the finest tools a man can have. Search: zip code + keyword ‘wrecking’ = Result. Grab keys, camera, throw some Mountain Dew in the cool box of the hire car and hit the freeway...

Tom and his friend Tom direct me, leading me off the freeway and into an area which I could never find back home in the greenness of England – a ramshackle industrial estate in the desert.

My first port of call wouldn’t let me take photographs, but it wasn’t the only option and I wasn’t about to give up. Approaching the owners of the yard next door proved more fruitful – and this yard, though smaller, was somehow more honest, less mercenary. In the corner of the dusty yard was a workshop – a real workshop – the kind that people who own auto-wrecking yards build lowriders in, I’m not guessing about that, by the way, the Impala and the Chevy pickup were all the clues I needed.

I’m English – that means I’m used to seeing cars and judging them on how ‘solid’ they are...all of these stunning classic wrecks appeared far from beyond repair to me. Then you see it from the other side; sunburnt interiors, broken glass, split dash covers, cracked tail-lights. You can weld metal, but you’re not going to be breaking out the superglue to fix a smashed windscreen are you?

I spend about an hour wandering blissfully, from Chevy to Ford, Cadillac to Buick. There’s a part of me that can sees such grace in their current state of beautiful dereliction, there’s no denying the art in a perfect restoration, or a well preserved example of a well preserved classic from automotive design’s past, but there’s just something about the way a car ages out here. I’m surrounded by these ostentatious reminders of times without global warming and oil shortages and it feels great.

My skin is red, I’m probably never going to wear these dusty Osiris anywhere decent again and my memory card is full. There’s a big grin on that red face though and it won’t go away...a yard crammed with oxidisation and scorched paint, an elephant’s graveyard of ancient metal leviathans can do that.

I crack open one of those Mountain Dew cans and cruise back to civilisation...what a way to spend a morning.