My neighbor had built a car at the request of my distant cousin, who gave the car to her husband on their wedding day. It was lavishly outfitted with a top rate sound system, leather interiors, and horsepower more appropriate for competitive racing than street driving. My uncle and the rest of my cousin’s family thought that her gift was sinfully extravagant as she could have bought a modest home or four years’ of college education for her stepdaughter for the price of the custom car. Almost immediately after the wedding, the man left town in his car for an extended trip, and when the car was found abandoned, after his supposed death in Reno, Nevada, it had been destroyed, the interiors torn apart, and the engine and exterior accoutrements stripped from it. The one feature that was salvaged was the car’s hood, with a hand-painted stallion adorning it. This was shipped to the man’s supposed widow (my distant cousin) who had no interest in creating any sort of monument to her short-lived marriage. She created a lean-to in the back of her small yard with the car’s hood, as a place to store her gardening tools. She, of course, laid the hood so that the underside was facing out and the image of the stallion was hidden from view.