The Bullet Holes Really did it for Me

For over 13 years, once a month I would be driving out to track in the Mojave desert where my boyfriend would race in his motorcycle club. Every single time we went down that dusty side road just as the sun was coming up harsh & warm with it’s light I knew we'd be passing this rusty timeworn metal sign that I had a crush on. It looks like a Hatch Show print wrought my Mother Nature herself. The bullet holes really did it for me and I wanted that sign, badly. I wanted to mount it on a side wall in my backyard or in a large loft space if I ever had a loft or as an entire wall in my living room. It was giant fabulous found typography pure graphic art that probably seasoned itself for over 40 years. So for 13 years I never thought about it until half awake on our monthly drive and then I would start my fantasy. I dreamt of stealing up in the early morning before sunrise with a flatbed truck and a couple of tattooed strapping tough guy friends/exs that would do anything for you and I would jump around as they took down the sign for me. It was a glorious fantasy that gave me butterflies thinking about it. But, a good girl I am, just have an active imagination. So I took this photo one morning, pleading with the now-ex to stop so I could shoot a photo of the sign. Glad I did, next month the sign was gone and the land was being sub-divided for the ever expanding sprawl of mini mansions. I still can visualize hanging that sign somewhere, it’s my fantasy for life.

(This was one of my original posts when I started this blog, but I like the photo & story so much, I thought it was time to bounce it forward)