After a lovely evening at Dad and Nancy’s new pad in Orono and a nice hot breakfast with coffee and much laughter – Kate and I were off for day two of our five days of fun.

We had just left Orono, and were on our way to Squaw Mountain, when we happened to cruse by what I would call a country junkyard.  To our right, partially covered in the pure white fluffy stuff,  was a field of rusted, dilapidated cars from the 30’s and 40’s that had been abandoned so long ago that trees of three and four inches in diameter had grown up through rusted undercarriages and broken windshields.  Despite their age, these decaying antiques were still beautiful, as they lie dormant in their nest of fresh snow.  A million questions rushed through my mind  – Who started tended this graveyard of steel and glass, why? – What great (and sad) memories were made in these early freedom vehicles?  – Could someone playback the memory of the first car abandoned in this field?  Had no one offered to restore these lovely machines? – and What did the owner do now?  We were not able to track down the owner to get this story, but maybe later I will return to this field of broken glass, orange steel and growing alders.