Peter Behrens's Blog, page 509

Chevrolet & Spinoza: Marfa Truck, Marfa Dog

Tom Michael, founder and manager of Marfa's NPR station, KRTS (Radio for a Wide Range) sent these photographs. The truck is and always has been one block east of the Hotel Paisano. The dog is Spinoza. Most Marfa dogs are chihuahuas; or, most of the dogs that come snarling out of their yards to chase after my bike are chihuahuas.

Couple of Colorado Ford F100's

Patrik Qvist, the Stockholm Chevrolet C10 & the flying Marfa Shed

This in today from our artist friend Patrik Qvist, another part-time Marfan. They do rust, in Sweden.
When we met Patrik, he was doing this beautiful flying shed project in his back yard in Marfa.

La Belle Province

October starts me thinking of home. J'etais nee au Quebec, moi. These photos were taken by Aidan O'Neill and Mary Behrens a few years ago on the Lower North Shore (of the St Lawrence) around Tadoussac, which is maybe the oldest European settlement in Canada. At Tadoussac the deep cold Saguenay R. flows into the St Lawrence, and the churn of waters there makes a feeding ground for white whales--beluga (see the last photo of the set).  One of the great road trips in North America follows the north shore of  the St Lawrence from Quebec City along the coast of Charlevoix County---to Tadoussac. Then cross over to the South Shore on one of the ferries (Baie Comeau or St Simeon---you'll see whales out in the river) and drive around the coast of the Gaspe peninsula. October is good. Go now. There are caribou in the mountains in the interior of the Gaspé. Doing a magazine story on the Lexus SC430 two-seater a few years back, we drove the car from Maine to the point where the road on the North American mainland littoral stops---which is on the north shore of the St Lawrence, a few miles past Natashquan, and a few miles (kilometers!) southeast of the Quebec/Labrador border.
 

Kate Northop "In the Snow"

In the Snow

Now there’s a man in the distanceAnd you are driving the car
Now he is in the distanceNo bag beside him no car
And you see he is completeAs a knock as a dog’s bark
But belonging only to himselfIn the empty road in the snow
Now there’s a man in the distance
And you are driving the car
                                         -Kate NorthropNorthrop's latest collection is Clean.

Studebaker Champ pickup

Ford Model A & Ford Model T. Canyon, Texas

Foggy morning on the Llano. I was driving west from Canyon Tx to Palo Duro Canyon when I came across a batch of old Ford doing their thing outside the West Texas A&M arena.



  

1963 Chevrolet C10 Clayton New Mexico

As I was taking pictures the owner came out on his tricycle to say this truck is for sale. Good bone, actually. What's a little surface rust?

1963 Chevrolet C10 Clayton New Meico

As I was taking pictures the owner came out on his tricycle to say this truck is for sale. Good bone, actually. What's a little surface rust?

Rainbow North of the Canadian: coming onto the Lllano Estacado

           A couple miles north of the Canadian River, coming into the Llano Estacado. 
           The novel I'm writing starts on the Isle of Wight, spends most of its time in Frankfurt in the Twenties and Thirties, and ends--thanks to Karl May--on the Llano. 
            May never actually saw the Llano  and his imagined landscape does not have much to do with the real place, which is a gigantic mesa sprawling over part of the Texas Panhandle into New Mexico. The Llano is high plains, not desert. The  translation (below) gives a hint of why KM never sold in English. Wish I could read the German; but if I could  there would be a lot of writers I would go to before I got around to Karl May. 
          But thanks to May I was dreaming the Llano when I was in Frankfurt last January. I like to think of him conjuring up his own private Llano during a doleful German winter in 1894:
            “A nocturnal ride across the desert which stretches itself out in the moonlight! How much I wish my dear readers could feel the majestic sensations which allow the human heart to swell higher and higher. However, the heart must be free from worry and from all that could oppress and constrain it…. If only someone could give me a quill from which the right words would flow to describe the impression which such a nocturnal desert ride brings forth from a devout human heart!"