The Limbo Connection's photos with the keyword: number plate

Nikon D700 + Nikkor 28mm f/2 AI lens.

Uneasily they eyed each other. The number plate felt she had some seniority, being as she was associated with motorised transport. Sneering, as only the neglected and downtrodden can, the set of drain rods observed caustically that the number plate had been discovered in a gutter with no sign of any association with an internal combustion engine. Indeed, the drain rods were complete whereas the number plate was orphaned. The 1963 BSA Star Rider shrugged resignedly. He was the eldest, yet his heyday was long gone. He had no interest in the squabbles of arrivistes. He simply craved to feel the macadam under his wheels one last time. Nikon D700 and Tamron 35mm f/1.8 VC lens.

The Number Plate That Fell Off has taken up residence behind a unit of transparent trays where - if you are an organised and tidy sort of person - you can be confident of finding the exact screw, nail, staple, brad, plug, dowel, or tack that you need. Unless you never bought any of that type in the first place. Nikon D700 and Tamron 35mm f/1.8 VC lens.

In Chapter One, you will recall, I related how I had found a number plate in the gutter. It looked lonely and forlorn, and so I picked it up and carried it home. The shed seemed to be the place where it was happiest and it became chummy with an old singular boot lace and a double-edged saw rescued from a junk shop. Whenever there was a camera in the shed it begged to be photographed, oblivious to the clutter in front of it. Thus far the only way to give it gallery space commensurate with its stark and simple beauty has been to crop out the extraneous tools, shafts, and machinery craving photographic attention. That has made the record of this notable event a very small file, yet still capable of enhancement in Lightroom. And behold: it is now more yellow, more contrasty, more exciting. In Chapter Three, I hope that the number plate that fell off will reveal more of its characters. That will entail a Great Expedition across the Foothills of Junk, and the Ascent of the Far End of Shed. Frankly, the prospect is non too appealing.

One day I found a number plate in the gutter. It looked lonely and forlorn, and so I picked it up and carried it home. The shed seemed to be the place where it was happiest and it became chummy with an old singular boot lace and a double-edged saw rescued from a junk shop. Whenever there was a camera in the shed it begged to be photographed, oblivious to the clutter in front of it. Thus far the only way to give it gallery space commensurate with its stark and simple beauty is to crop out the extraneous tools, shafts, and machinery craving photographic attention, leaving a tiny image of just 566 KB. In Chapter Two, the number plate that fell off will reveal more of its characters and resolve to grow in size and importance.