Rusting away in heaps all over the world are the cars, trucks, buses and motorcycles of years gone by. Once bright and shiny they now rest waisted and decayed. These are our junk yards. Today we call them savage yards and scrap yards, but in my youth they were simply referred to as junk yards.

Today many automobiles that go to these places are dismantled and the parts are shelved and sold. The bodies are all crushed and sold for weight. But there was a time, long before the jaws of the car crushers could get them, that these relics sat lonely and discarded, side by side, or stacked one upon another in large fields all across the country.

If someone needed a starter, generator, fan belt and even a battery, they would go to the junk yard and the owner would tell them, "sure! I have a '53 Hudson right over there by the old school bus." The customer would trek over and remove the part himself using tools he had brought with him.

Then he would take the part or parts back to the owner and was told, "lets see, you have a starter? That'll be $10.50." Not bad! By the end of the day, he would have that Hudson back home running perfectly. No muss, no fuss.