It's nearby,I can feel it. I can see it's faded paint with that great patina that only age can give. The pristine interior with that slightly musty smell draws me in. The coat of dust only makes it more mysterious. The small imperfections seem meaningless as it just looks regal. Under the hood is the same just a little oily dirt and a Ford script battery. I bet I can start it,the keys hang on the barn wall next to a log book of all that has been done to it. Its a fat fendered 47 Ford lurking in a secreted but not forgotten barn. Whats that,a pain in my side,what!!!!!! My wife just elbowed me,I was talking in my sleep. OOOH but a dream.