The Story Behind the Photos: All Alone with B.S. and 202

It was an average Friday in mid-February, chilly and grey. My adventure buddy and all around amazing stuff spotter, Autumn, and I were out on the back roads of Idaho looking for something spectacular; anything spectacularly rusty, or broken or decaying to be specific.

Our first random encounter with the abandoned was an old cattle pen with decaying chute. It sat disheveled and forgotten along side bright shiny new trucks parked near a new workshop.

The fence sagged under the weight of its years in the harsh Idaho desert.

The weathered wood split where rusty nails once held the fence together. Orange and yellow lichen now made their homes on the beams

The small barn stood empty, doorway yawing in the boredom of being forgotten.

All the bits and bobs that once held important jobs lay unused and rusting.

We followed the fence around to a grave yard of machines and parts. It was a place where all good rusty things hope to go when they are no longer needed.