The Ever Growing Throng

We’re starting a new series, mostly at Drive-By Shootings, called “Go Fence Yourself.”  We’ve been exploring the barren Martian wasteland of Phoenix, lately.  What better time than high summer, right?  In beautiful South Phoenix and Maryvale, EVERYTHING has a fence.  Industrial park parking lots top their chain link fences with razor wire.  That’s how we say GTFO “welcome!”

Or cinder block, for a hearty handshake to go with your welcome
Or on top of cinder block, for a hearty ass kicking opaque handshake to go with your “Go Die” “welcome.”

What also dots the bombed out apocalypse of post-industrial, forgotten Phoenix is junkyards.  Some are official businesses, some are hoards, some are parts bins for the unlicensed dealers selling frankenstein-like, cobbled together deathtraps on Craigslist.  We even started a new blog dedicated to the fences themselves (because focusing is hard and the cars come out all blurry).

Inside the fences, there are stories told in sheet metal.  Sometimes, too, there are prizes.  (Sometimes there are just booby prizes.)  Here are a few examples of the former:

A Toyota Corona 1900

Toyota Corona 1900
When “Made In Japan” meant dead in a year.

A Hudson Hornet (maybe)? There’s a whole slew of Porky’s jokes, especially considering the sketchy desolate neighborhood of warehouses and strip joints where we found it.

Hudson Hornet?
Porky fell on hard times…

Sometimes, the prizes still run. (Or fly.)

1967 Ford Thunderbird
Red = Win.  Every time.

We invite you to drop by the other joints for more.

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