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FALL 2018 ISSUE 02 / VOL . 03
Almost home . A fossilized motorcycle ? Some cargo cult relic ? The tree branch sculpture grazes outside a roadhouse near O ’ Hare , Illinois .
Near mile 275 there is a sign for the Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles . Farther down the road is a Huey helicopter atop a pylon . Something has been added to the tableaux : using quarter-inch iron , the material you see in cutouts of Pony Express riders , rodeo stars , musicians , moose and whatever , someone had cut a line of figures ascending steps into the helicopter . You don ’ t see it as you approach , the knife edge of rusting iron is invisible , but as you flash by , out of the corner of your eye , you register an image as iconic as the flag raising at Iwo Jima : the evacuation of Saigon , the refugees clamoring atop the American embassy , begging to be taken out of the country . Just like that . A flicker of time that haunts you for miles .
Near mile 385 a white church stands empty , the windows gaping , open to the weather , the stained glass long gone , the siding turned gray with neglect . Propped against the front door is a tire . On one side of the church , someone has painted a