This old muffler storage rack has been behind a muffler shop here since before I came to live in this town. I know the owner of the shop and his family. I saw their grandchildren grow up. If you ever had a busted muffler, it’s probably in this catacomb. That is, if you’ve lived here long enough to know where to get a muffler replaced. The owner and his family are fine folks and good friends. The shop was decrepit when they moved into it, no doubt, and it still is. The owner is a big bear of a man with the bluest eyes and the fullest beard you ever saw. He is cantankerous and keeps his own counsel. He is the man I would call if I needed to move a body. He made his fortune in this shop. He was the only friend that my husband rode around with during his terminal illness. He’s that kind of man. I am going to print an album of muffler photographs for this man as a token of my gratitude to him.
I spent an hour at this muffler morgue late one afternoon. I shot over a hundred frames full of mufflers. As I approached the back side where the oldest and most deteriorated ones rest, the light was gone. I will have to return to honor the original residents of this place. I attempted to dress these guys up a little so they would look their best for the viewing. May they rest in peace for they served us well.