The Unwanted Guests
On a country road somewhere in Tennessee is a graveyard. My wingman Mark and I were heading west, and I was being a bit lax in noting our general location. Our route was on his GPS up front. I was just sightseeing in the sweep position. Topping a hill, we both spied an interesting sight on our left, and eased the motorcycles just off to the gravel on the side of the lane. Several acres of farmland was spread out before us, a dilapidated house several hundred yards back. The property was littered scores of old tractors- The number could have been as close to a hundred. There were parts strewn everywhere, in various states of decay, their rusting bodies shrouded in an early morning haze. I unpacked a camera and started making a few pictures. I could stay here for hours I thought, but figured we should touch base with the owner to see if it was ok to shoot a little. The property was fenced off with a wavy rusty wire and post barrier, with a gate a few yards away. We approached it and noticed the sign. Nor much bigger than 10 inches across, it was hand written in large angry caps, on the yellowed paper, covered with faded plastic. IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU ARE “IN RANGE” Being Yankees, we decided this was not the time or place to make a new friend or press our luck. We quickly packed up and rode off!
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