here, have some noodling around with imagery, I still like this: the Tulsa Plymouth Belvedere, buried in 1957 and dug up in 2007 to general dismay.
anthropomorphizing vintage cars is a road you do not wish to go down brain
think of it though
sealed in darkness, wrapped in darkness, bound in darkness, silent, a closed grave for fifty years. perhaps the vault held for ten, twenty, who knows when water began to creep in and first darken and then puddle and then pool and then rise, unseen in that lightless hole, but felt: each gap and crevice in her wheels first, settling into the curves and angles of the hubcaps, the axles, the brake hoses. what was it like when the water first rose enough to touch her undercarriage, all at once, like sitting down in a swimming-pool, taking that irrevocable step that floods every tender part of you with cold.
and water eats iron, slowly but surely, a thousand thousand molecular mouths nibbling away at her.
then it rose higher, and so higher, and her carpets were sodden and sprouted mad colonies of fungus in the dark, blind white soft things; and then her seats, and as the water rose it received her engine as well into its creeping trickling unseen hands. Water in her wires, water in the oval maw of her air-intake, water under gravity’s pull forcing its way into the delicate balance of her carbs, into her manifold, seeping and settling, bringing with it the feverish hunger of the rust. Water ate at her and filled her and as the years went by surrounded her entirely, she was drowned to sleep, all but forgotten in her lightless water-chamber underneath the courthouse lawn.
Then there were angle-grinders and the brilliant furious vindictive light of day, first light in fifty years, and what it revealed was as grisly as it was forlorn: she was there, the shape and substance of her were there, but she was a horrid revenant rust-eaten and mud-clung rather than the perfect gleaming time-traveler they’d hoped for.
Imagine the creeping water in the darkness and that slow deliquescence of all her modern gleam.
Imagine her drowning slowly in the dark.