In this first monograph we are placed so as to peer through the windows of American cars that have seen better days. Caught on city streets, in a space somewhere between the public and the private, these interiors are often decrepit and empty, yet each comes alive through its inanimate details, the idiosyncratic marks of past and present owners, revealing a series of portraits without sitters. Items both mundane and peculiar — empty packs of cigarettes, the shattered frame of a digital Van Gogh, a Ouija board planchette — trace the outlines of lives lived but not seen. Scum, frost and dead insects, appearing like beautiful colour-field abstractions, at times prevent us from seeing inside.