Pulling up at a queue at traffic lights recently I opened the window and glanced out to be confronted by this exploding nostalgic scene. Since then I've passed this top-loader regularly, marooned on one of those 'no-man's land' strips of public space that appear to be beyond any one's responsibility and hence a sanctuary for things that don't belong.
How did it get to be here? Was it a trip to Cash Converters gone wrong? Or even an case of that modern phenomena 'technology rage', caused by an intermittent, fault that got this relic flung from an unhealthy height. These things aren't exactly portable which suggests it got here with some degree of intent. No doubt it will remain a contemporary mystery and I'll be left trying to work out the ethics of whether this is a case of radical outdoor museumology that qualifies as an addition to the cultural landscape or a 'tip of the iceberg' example of a new advance for public dumping which is a subtractive blight on society. But I have realised that I've grown to like it in some hard to describe way and when it does eventually get removed (as no doubt some company has the contract to clean such left over land near to highways) I'll remember this slice of video-graphic history fondly.
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