I've blogged about this tire before. The damned thing is hard to ignore. It sits in a flood-control canal near our home, submerged in brown muck. As if it were a piece of urban art, it changes with the time of day and the level of the tide. I'd like to think that the thoughtless person who tossed it there may have had art on his mind. But, this is unlikely. It is a hapless landmark made beautiful only by a fertile imagination. It is the Tire of Corte Madera.
It is at its most beautiful when half-submerged in the morning light of an autumn day. It is then that its contours play with dancing tidal waters to create fanciful shapes and reflections. It is at its saddest state when completely underwater, at high tide—murky, soggy, and of a nasty shade of dog-shit brown. Like all of us, the Tire of Corte Madera has its good days and bad.
For some reason, I am drawn to photograph this noble piece of refuse. I find it poignant in its homeliness, fascinating in its changing character. It is lonely, abandoned, and somewhat pitiful. My affection is fortunate. This tire will be here for years unless a city worker decides to get in there with his waders and drag the old thing out of its watery grave. Not biodegradable to the extreme, if everyone (like me) just stares at it, it will be here as long as I shall walk this suburban trail.