27 JUL 2017: When Ella Fitzgerald sang, “Summertime and the livin’ is easy” she obviously hadn’t been privy to my summers. It’s that time of year when, in the name of vacationing/ camping/ relaxing I seem to be in the car every other day doing all kinds of long road-trips.

Last weekend, the 700-mile ride saw me doing the annual trip to New Hampshire, delivering my 15-year-old son to Camp Belknap, a historic YMCA summer camp on Lake Winnipesaukee that he has attended for the last eight years.

Getting there unavoidably involves quite a bit of highway driving but I have also discovered several less direct but more interesting side roads that meander through bucolic little communities and out of the way hamlets. You know the kind: They typically consist of a gas station-cum-auto repair/body-shop, a schoolhouse, a church, a trailer park, a large, neglected-looking cemetery, a general store with a neon “Cold Beer” sign in the window, a lawyer’s office, a nail salon, a trailer park and a disparate smattering of homes.

Driving through these bump-in-the-road spots, I always get a kick out of wondering just what kind of people live there, what brought them there, what if anything they do for a living and – this is the biggie – why so many of them seem compelled to have at least two rusted out automobliles, trucks or tractors parked in their front yards.

Do these places perhaps have byelaws that make it mandatory for residents to park at least one junker on their properties? “Subsection Three, Rule 14B. – Residents must uphold the appearance of their street by having a minimum of one inoperable motor vehicle in public view at all times. The presence of said vehicle(s) will automatically exempt resident from any requirement (see Subsection Four, 15C) to remove weeds or brush from surrounding areas.”

I always fantasize as to how the conversation must have gone on the final day that such vehicles moved under their own power. Maybe something like, “Okay Martha, I just parked your old Chevvy under the oak tree out front. I think we’ll leave it there for the next 25 years.”

But sometimes they aren’t junkers. Four or five years ago, driving down a dusty backroad en route to the New Hampshire camp, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something that seemed to bizarre to be true. I think I may have scared my kids – there were still two of them going to camp at the time – by slamming on the brakes and exclaiming, “Wow! What the …? Did I just see what I think I saw?”

I backed up and got out of the car. In front of a ramshackle little house there were about five junk autos that obviously hadn’t moved in years but it was the one semi-obscured by the bushes growing over it that had caught my attention. Could it be? Yes it was – a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow no less! I’m not a real car buff but I’d guess it was probably of a 1970’s vintage.

It had obviously been there for a long time which made it all the more remarkable that the car’s iconic grille and ‘Flying Lady’ hood ornament were still intact – they can after all be found on eBay for $1,500 and up: They also looked like they’d just come out of the showroom.

Curiosity piqued, I was eager to learn the car’s story so knocked on the door of the far less pristine home next to the Rolls. The place had a deserted look about it so I wasn’t surprised when there was no answer. My kids meanwhile were pleading with me to get out of there saying it reminded them of too many horror movies.

Undeterred, about a mile down the road was the local garage, so I asked the 70 something mechanic there – who wouldn’t have been out of place in a Norman Rockwell painting – if he knew anything about “the Rolls in the bushes.” He laughed and said, “Oh yeah, sure do. Old Walter bought it to impress some ladyfriend or other about 10 years ago but she didn’t like it. Said she preferred Buicks! So Walt just parked it out front and hasn’t moved it since.”

As I set off for home with Willie Nelson’s ‘On the Road Again’ blasting, I remember not knowing whether I should feel more sorry for ‘Old Walter’ or the abandoned Rolls. But at least I knew the story behind one front yard junker – there must be a million more.