About 15 years ago I started driving past an old, overgrown car on my way to work.

At the same time I was restoring and customizing my first real car project, a 1965 Mustang. I used to wonder if, when my car, and this other overgrown relic were both finished, would they sit near each other at some car show?

As the years passed by, my car was completed, and shown many times. It would call to me from it's winter storage whenever the first smells of spring would hit the streets. Year after year, parade after parade, car show after car show, me and my '65 took to the streets of the QCA.

But not this other guy. He sat, sadly watching us drive by. Every Summer covered in weeds, every winter buried in snow. Never moving.

Today when I tried to get close enough to snap these photos, an animal ran out from underneath when I snapped a nearby twig. What is the story, I wonder, of the Mustang that nobody wants?

I see the big 60's on the rear wheels and think that it must have one day been the pride of it's driver. Cruising the One's, or maybe winning a few grudge races between stoplights. Some of it's chrome and shine have given way to rust and weather. It's open driver's side window, once filled with the laughter of friends, and maybe rock-n-roll from the dashboard radio, now only home to spiderwebs and rainfall.

I wish I knew who owned this prize, and what they were waiting for.