One man worked his own mine here from 1905 to 1945. His ravaged home and a rusting car mark the site. The car was parked on a slope, its front end pointing upward. I moved behind the car, and made this photograph so that it appears to be crawling up the hill, leaving a trail of stones in its wake. I deliberately aligned the crushed roof with the dip in the hill – the barren earth seems to be as well used as the car. The car has been vandalized by humans and tormented by the elements. It is covered in graffiti. Only a shell is left, but its desire to get to the top of the hill has not diminished with the years. This is the kind of image that goes beyond nostalgia for old cars. It can be seen as a metaphor for determination, perseverance, and perhaps even survival.