What's the difference?

I've been seeing this rusty old hulk sitting in this same spot for a lot of years now. It sort of appeals to me, sitting there all alone, rusting away quietly. The weeds are growing through the floorboards and there are tiny nests that belong to field-mice inside, as well as spider webs and the homes of other little creatures. In the winter, the snow covers it and I imagine that it's like a blanket and this old truck has dreams of when it was young and new. I imagine when it was first driven home, in the 40's maybe? I picture some young husband pulling into his driveway in his brand new blue truck, proud as punch to be the owner of his very own vehicle. His wife and children run outside to see it, and they all hop in and take off off for a spin. No seatbelts, factory installed or otherwise! I think there is probably a dog in the back, a "mutt", tongue hanging out and panting, as they drive down the streets, the kids are surely waving to their envious friends and the wife is probably laughing as she tells her husband to "slow down!" (some things never change!) On Saturdays the children probably helped their dad wash the truck and it was no doubt kept spotless, inside and out. I would hazzard a guess that the original owner has long since died, and the truck has gone through many owners and could tell us all sorts of stories...people learning to drive in it, tears being shed in it, shouts of laughter coming from it, until eventually it wore out and was hauled, unceremoniously, to this spot in the bush, to decay and rust away. Sort of sad, really. However, it does give me a sense of peace to sit and look at it, and to try and imagine the tales it could tell. Sometimes I put my hand on it and try to feel any "vibes" that it might still be giving off, and I'd like to say that there is a feeling I get when I touch it, but, alas, there is nothing but my vivid imagination.

And then I walk a little further and see another rusty relic, and it also was once new and someone's "pride and joy", but I just see garbage, and have a feeling of annoyance that someone is so careless with our forests. And then I wonder, really, what's the difference? Why is some "garbage" beautiful to me, and other garbage just ugly? I guess we all have a little of the hypocrite in us.

~Step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.

~John Greenleaf Whittier.