My fascination with old garages and gas stations has been with me since I was a little girl, for no concrete reason beyond the fact that the scent of years of gasoline and oil muddled with dust and dirt, the soft glow of the signage lights now outmoded, the hum of a radio over the rhythmic click of socket wrenches, and the oasis of iridescent pools of gas pump bay lights on an otherwise dark highway, these are things that have always comforted me. Maybe because so much of my life has been spent on the road? Perhaps because under the hood is one of a handful of tranquil places for me? I suspect that comfort is buried on some primal level that I cannot explain if I try, something deeply subconscious.
*** These will be the last of the recently rediscovered photographs for now. Things are slowly catching up here so as of next week, it’s back to the more up to date places to do and things to see.