We passed the afternoon at the recycling center parked beside a flatbed truck loaded with the carcass of an old winching rig. With the sun bearing down, Nice (the dog) found the concrete under the shade of the large truck to be the coolest spot. His head was streaked by the end of the day, from the oily drive shaft and brake lines. I tried to coax him to the ever increasing shade as the sun crept slowly behind the loading dock we were parked against. He was obviously correct in staying there. The concrete he was laying on hadn't seen direct sun in months. I sat at the side door of the open van, shielded from the sun but not the sweltering heat. There was little else to do but watch the parade of cars and trucks loaded with all sorts of metal extrusions, cans, steel frames and lawn furniture.
I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the Mercury Mark IV, brought in by trailer, as the salvage workers rolled it into the large doorway to be weighed on the scales. It would soon make its way to the wrecking yard in the rear where they would dissect the old collectible of various parts, dump it upside down in an open topped trailer with other heaps, then to be hauled off to the shredder. Like the two loads I had seen leaving from the far gate earlier in the day, the old relic would soon be a new kitchen appliance, bridge beam or pipeline.
The woman who brought it in probably needed a few dollars, or the space in the yard, or revenge for her ex-husband. Who knows?
The doors closed. The workers went home. Eventually the shade covered the van and I was able to nap in a hot sweat until darkness fell. Then I could change into dry clothes and sleep for a few hours.