On a recent walk through the neighborhood, I noticed something that had passed me by hundreds of times before: A vanity plate.

Bobwire. It’s a big ole flatbed truck belonging to a neighbor who, among other things, works on old cars of all kinds. I was struck by the simplicity of the nickname, and a character sprung to life in my imagination. A good ole boy, an amalgamation of people who once made up the scene who are no longer with us, lost to life or death.

I’ve always admired the oldtimers on the scene. It takes a stubborn commitment to stay with something that at a certain point in most people’s lives becomes superfluous or even a hassle. Maybe that’ll be me one of these days.

It isn’t lost on me that the truck belongs to a neighbor so concerned with care and maintenance. That work, too, seems a bit superfluous. Many of us are conditioned to be dismissive of the maintenance and repair that we and the stuff of our lives depended on because everything is disposable (i.e. replaceable) these days.

No need to wax nostalgic or poetic here. There’s enough of that in the song.