Just behind my parents’ property, down a small path well worn down by many feet, there is a Hudson stuck in the mud. It has probably been stuck there for over 70 years, and seen many a harsh Beaver Island winter. The windows are gone, and so are the seats. The once red hubcaps are now grey, the once blue paint a mossy beige. I like to think that things haven’t changed that much, and that someone tried to drive their lumbering car down a footpath under influence of the drink, and then simply left it because it was too damaged to drive out again.
If you turn away from the Hudson and look into the woods, you’ll see a small fence containing the grave and headstone of Henry Clifton. It’s aways off the path, under a big pine tree. Hard to find, unless you’re looking for it. Maybe those in the Hudson were looking for Henry’s grave. I have no idea if those are the original headstone and fence from over 100 years ago. Perhaps someone has cared for the place over the years. I like to think it’s a place that’s simply untouched by time, while the Hudson continues to move forward in time and in its decay.