The sky was clear, completely cloudless. The bone dry ground crunched and squeaked as my feet stirred up a small cloud of dust.
Dust was everywhere and on everything. Despite the gentle breeze, the stark brightness felt oppressive as though it was more hot that the thermometer could register.
The place looked as though it could have been a set piece for breaking bad. There was temporary trailer you went through to pay admission. The floor was black with grease and grime. Piles of oddities were all around. The sign should have read “Kenny you pull”. It was missing letters instead reading: Ken yo pu.
Say that aloud.
Don’t say it in a public toilet. You may get a response:
Nope, did that already.
Kenny You Pull is an auto salvage yard.
I’d never been there before.
Let me tell you, it was incredibly inspiring.
Though I was surrounded by what was once millions of dollars worth of cars, now were nothing more than decrepit hulks, laid bare, exposed and open.
Most of the cars were picked over chariot…
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