Peter Behrens's Blog, page 123

c. 1975 VW Type 2 Bus

 
C'mon, who wouldn't want one? Caught the one in Blue Hill, ME. A while back, we posted a VW bus  on the block at BaT. And a Type 1 bus in Cambridge. A 1961 Transporter in Harvard Square. A VW Combi bus (water cooled) in Mexico City. Maybe our favorite is Dan's 1966 VW bus, in West Texas.

                     

Ford F-350/E-350 Turbo Diesel

Bill Grant and Tommy Simmons built this workhorse 15 years ago using the frame and diesel engine from a Ford E-350 van that had rolled over with only 15k miles on the clock. The F-350 cab came from a State of Maine highway sander truck whose frame had rotted. They bought the bed new for $1000. 

Biography of LeBron as Ohio

Thanks to Eva H.D. and to Poetry Foundation for introduction to Dougherty's work. Last Camaro we posted was Straight Outta Winterport

 Biography of LeBron as Ohio

BY SEAN THOMAS DOUGHERTYWhen is a poem one word? Even at 17 he was Baraka
           on the court, Coltrane gold toned, a kind of running riff,
more than boy-child, man-child, he was one word like Prince.
            How back in those drunken days when I still
ran in bars & played schoolyard ball
            & wagered fives & tens, me & my colleague
the psych-prof drove across Eastern Ohio
             just to see this kid from powerhouse St. Vincent,
grown out of rust-belt-bent-rims, tripped
            with the hype & hope & hip hop
blaring from his headphones, all rubber soled
            & grit as the city which birthed him.
We watched him rise that night scoring over 35,
            drove back across the quiet cut cornfields
& small towns of Ohio, back to the places
            where we slept knowing that Jesus had been reborn, black
& beautiful with a sweatband crown rimming his brow.
            He was so much more than flipping burgers & fries,
more than 12-hour shifts at the steel plant in Cleveland.
            More than the shut-down mill in Youngstown.
More than that kid selling meth in Ashtabula.
            He was every kid, every street, every silo, he was white
& black & brown & migrant kids working farms.
            He was the prince of stutter-step & pause. He was the new
King. We knew he was coming back the day after he left
            his house in Bath Township. He never sold it.
Someone fed his fish for years. Perhaps our hope? Fuck Miami.
Leave Wade to wade through the Hurricane rain. LeBron is
remembering that woman washing the linoleum floor, that man
          punching his punch card. He drives a Camaro, the cool kid
Ohio car driving through any Main Street. He is the toll-taker, &
            he is the ticket out.
He keeps index cards documenting
            his opponents’ moves. One leans forward before he drives.
One always swipes with his left hand. The details like a preacher
            studying the gospel. He studies the game like a
mathematician conjugating equations, but when he moves he is a
            choreography,
a conductor passing the ball like a baton. He is a burst of cinders
            at the mill. He is a chorus of children calling his name.
            The blistered hands of man stacking boxes
in Sandusky, the long wait for work in Lorain.
A sapling bends
            & reaches in all directions
before it becomes a tree. A ball is a key to a lock.
            A ball is the opposite of Glock.
America who sings your praises,
           while tying the rope, everyone waiting for Caesar to fall,
back-stabbing media hype city betrayed
            by white people with racist signs.
            I watch the kids play ball
in the Heights, witness this they say. We will rise. I watched
            LeBron arrive & leave, I walked, I gave up drinking
as he went off & won a ring. The children’s chorus calls out sing
            brother, sing. Everything is black. Storm clouds gather
out on Lake Erie. But the old flower-hatted women
            at the Baptist church are heading out praise cards,
registering teenagers to vote. To turn a few words into a sentence.
He is a glossary of jam, & yes he is corporate
            chugging down green bubbly Sprite, running in Beats head
phones, he is Dunkin his donut, he is Nike, witness, ripped.
            On a spring day in Akron a
            chorus of children is chanting his name on the court by the
chain-link fence. He is forged steel, turning his skinny body into
            muscle, years of nights lifting, chiseling, cutting, studying.
Watching the tape. To make a new kind of sentence. He is passing
            out T-shirts, this long hot bloody summer he was returned
to the rusted rim along the big lake. He is stutter-step. He is
            spinning wheel. He has a cool new hat. He is speaking of dead
black children. He is giving his time. To make the crowd
            sway like wind through a field of corn.
            Does LeBron think of dying?
            Does the grape think of dying as it withers on the vine by
the lake? Or does it dream of the wine it will become?
He is wearing a shirt that says I Can’t Breathe.
They said he was arrogant. I said he was just Ohio.
            He married his high school sweetheart. Bravado laid out
on the court. No back down, he is Biggie with a basketball inside
            of a mic, no ballistics, just ballet. He is Miles Davis cool,
quietly cerebral, turning his back, tossing up
            chalk like blue smoke, blue notes, blues. He is Akron,
Columbus, he is heart & Heat turned to lake effect blizzards,
            freighters frozen in ice, looking for work & no money to eat.
He is Ashtabula & Toledo. He is carrying so many across the
            river, up through Marietta.
            The grapevines are ripe in Geneva.
            He returns, Man-child, Man-strong, Man-smart, Man-
mountain, Mansfield to East Akron, minus into Man, or should we
            say Mamma raised? Single mother fed, shy child, quiet child
who grew, who suffered & taught his body to sing, his
            mother worked how many shifts, doing this, doing that,
never gave up for her son. He is third shift at the rubber
            plant in winter, he is farm hands & auto parts piecework
& long nights the men at the bar, eyes on the television.
            The lake tonight is black as newly laid asphalt.
There are no ellipses. He is turning paragraphs
            into chapters. Long ago the hoop Gods made this deal
at the crossroads, Old Scratch is flipping the pages
            of his program & waiting high in the stands—to belong to a
place most people would call
            nowhere, to show the world how tough we truly are,
twelve-hour shifts at the Rubber plant in Akron. How he is, how
            he is a part of this asphalt court we call Ohio, & how we
suffer, & how we shine.

1962 Studebaker Gran Turismo Golden Hawk

From Reid Cunningham: "You posted another Studebaker a few days ago, and yesterday I ran across this one in Milford NH. Given it's 60 years old and appears unrestored, the condition doesn't seem bad. Those wheels though..."

Land Yachts of Newport

1965 Chrysler Imperial Crown

"Land Yachts - Cruising the Interstate Highways" is up at the Audrain Automobile Museum Newport RI
June 4 - September 4, 2022 Thanks to Matt Dallett for the heads-up. 
From the exhibition catalogue:
"Today, when auto manufacturers have primarily focused on fuel economy through lightweight materials and more efficient packaging, it’s fascinating to look back when such an engineering and design philosophy was far from their agenda. Bigger was almost always better- but for a very understandable reason. While European manufacturers continued in the 1950s to produce smaller cars, well suited to the dense cities and shorter travel distances covered by their customers, American companies built ever-larger vehicles to cover the vast open spaces and to take full advantage of the smooth roads across the United States. Many of the cars in this exhibition are among the largest of all time and brilliantly communicate the postwar confidence and booming economy of the USA in the 25 years after the end of World War II. "Popularly known as the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act of 1956, the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956 renewed interest in establishing an interstate highway system. This transcontinental superhighway network expanded our highways by an additional 41,000 miles from 1957 through 1969, making long-distance automobile travel safer, and more efficient, helping make the American desire to road-trip by car flourish throughout the United States."

1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz
1948 Hudson Commodore Eight
1961 Chrysler 300 G

c. 2000 Volkswagen EuroVan

  Spotted in Cambridge MA. Don't see many. Like the size, like the (lack of) style. Then there's the new electric bus, the VW ID.Buzz

Trio of Toyotas

Three versions of contemporary ( for AL, that is) Toyota SUVs were parked on one block in Cambridge yesterday. In order here, we have a Land Cruiser (late 90s maybe?); a Highlander (Hybrid); and what looks like a brand-new 4Runner. Which would you choose? 

www.PeterBehrensEditorial.com

Autoliterati, a request
Here's a link to my www.PeterBehrensEditorial.com site. I've been doing this for a while–working with writers in every genre--memoir, screenplays, fiction--and with leaders & professionals in other fields who need to deliver speeches, share stories and communicate. I work with seasoned writers and others with the bare beginnings of a book, essay, Op-Ed piece,  script, speech or story idea...but the www.PeterBehrensEditorial.com site is new, and I would be most grateful if you would consider forwarding the link to any who might be able to use my services.Many thanks for considering...& best wishes for a great summerP.B. 

Studebaker Avanti, New Mexico

  The photographer Bill Burleson caught the car in Santa Fe. There is a restoration in-process, then the car's to be sold. Studebaker always was ahead of the curve.  We have looked at many a Study here on AL, but this is the first Avanti we've posted. But here's one on the block at Hemmings. And try Studebaker in our search widget: some great cars (and trucks) turn up. 

A Sequence of Chevys

All in Santa Barbara County and not that long ago,