Our little photo group set out for Sprague, Washington with the idea of finding the truck that my dad and I photographed fifteen years ago on my first sabbatical.

We took a left turn and wound around the gravel roads north of town, unable to find this wondrous and mythical truck of yesteryear. So, we gave up.

On our drive back, we took a return route that would avoid backtracking. Lo, and but 500 yards beyond where we had taken that left turn, lay the lovely old GMC, at a lonely abandoned homestead that looked as if it wanted visitors, with magazines still stacked on a dilapidated coffee table in the front room.