A Curious Observation

Recently, I’ve noticed something peculiar: cars abandoned in open fields, far from roads or driveways. At first glance, it feels almost surreal—like a scene from a forgotten movie or a modern art installation. But who put them there and why? Are they dropped by passing UFOs? Do they sprout from seeds of old hubcaps under a full moon?

For months, I’ve watched these cars appear and disappear. At first, I laughed and thought it would make an interesting photo series. But the phenomenon seems to have a conscience—they vanish before I return with a camera. I’m convinced of it. So now, I stop the moment I see one, before it slips back into whatever dimension it came from.

This weekend’s discovery marks the start of the project. There it was: a Saab 99, mysteriously planted on top of freshly sprouted winter wheat. Stripped of all usable parts, like a skeleton in chrome. No tracks. No clues. Just fog curling around it like a secret. It didn’t look abandoned—it looked "delivered."

I stood there wondering: Did it fall from the sky? Was it teleported by a bored wizard? Or is this what cars do when they’ve had enough of traffic—they wander into fields for some peaceful naked meditation?

Whatever the truth, I’ll keep looking. Because if cars are staging a quiet rebellion, I want front-row seats.