Peter Behrens's Blog, page 583
August 17, 2011
Against Gravity
AGAINST GRAVITY
Blue sky, ungated clouds, & on a sand-pittedhighway sign the number 10 stands out--a minor footnote in a monograph on drugs,
a reference instructing the reader to studymy nap on the floor of a Ford Econolinesummer after high school. As if rest, & only rest,
were what we found ourselves made of, sometimes.Though rest is only one trait, actually, whenyou've been hitching between Tucson & El Paso
and gotten picked up by a van. The equally ingeniousothers look like tie-dye & restlessness, likerest stops & silvered heather, maybe jimson,
and a little lantana raising its nippled red specklesinto the scent of sagebrush rained on & drying.They got me high, three men & a woman costumed
estimably in the style of out-of-work jesters,jovial people of 1971, wearing the standard issue--fusty cloches, velveteen pants, embroidered emblems,
with shiny balls like cat bells danglingoff one or two ears. For one a self-etched tattoo,its motto the equation ACID=BLISS framed
by a multiplying fungus or exploding chloroplast.For another, a fu manchu & fedora. A synaptic Apachesnake cinching the woman's frayed macrame belt.
Mirror sunglasses for all. And small mirrors,like tiny ponds, frozen pools, had been sewnonto the woman's India print blouse by some
Kashmiri laborer, who, if he could have looked intothem, might have seen me dozing off, stonedon pan hash, bits of myself reflecting back,
scattered, a tired grin from the woman'sright sleeve, the puffed wrist, pale ear at the tipof a breast, nose on her stomach. And haven't I
always loved being broken up & abrogated by sleep?But when I woke we had pulled off the roadinto a ranch. From the tape deck "Brain Salad Surgery"
blared, a form of premature senility disguisedas endless synthesizer riffs. For a second, in the nazzand compression of noise, still stoned, I thought
they intended to kill me. An intuitionso melodramatic & dumb the sight of two of the menkissing in the front seat had to wipe it away.
I had never seen two men kiss, & the surprise,which in another setting might have shocked,even disgusted, my sheltered murmurous little self,
somehow reassured me. The kiss implyingnot so much gentility as distraction.Then, out of the eddies of shade, the woman
ran, having tossed off her incongruous imitationalligator heels, naked now except forpurple tights, she ran & turned cartwheels
three times across the yard. Gravity.Gravity. They had wanted to visit a friendwho, they claimed, was connected to anti-
gravity research being conducted there.Merely a windbreak occupied byan adobe shed and barn, it seemed abandoned,
as if during the night the hard rains,the lightning, had chased away the enemyof gravity, & now we were to take his place. -David Rivard, from Wise Poison (Graywolf, 1996).
August 16, 2011
Aisle a Ho
From Isle au Haut in Penobscot Bay photographer Winky Lewis sent these images of summer kids and captive vehicles. Barging is expensive, so cars and trucks that make it out to Isle au Haut tend to stay there. The only scheduled connection with the mainland is a daily mailboat out of Stonington, which carries mail, people, and some freight, but no vehicles bigger than bikes.
Because this is Autoliterate, after all, I'm going to nerdishly try to identify the machines that Winky shot. It's not quite trainspotting, perhaps, but it's close. I believe this guy (above) is snoozing in the same '66 Dodge Dart, as below.
And what could this be but a 1952 Pontiac Chieftain?
No split windscreen? Must be a 1954 Chevrolet "Advanced Design" truck.
Matched pair.
No state roads--and no staties--on Isle au Haut, so up-to-date registration is not a priority.
I believe this gorgeous beast is a 1948 Plymouth.
I went to a fishing camp with my father when I was eleven. Our guide had one of these Willys Jeep wagons, circa 1960. I forgot all about fishing and spent the afternoon behind the wheel, driving up and down a range road in Quebec.
See? No state roads on Isle au Haut. Not a lot of traffic.
There are les than a hundred year rounders Isle au Haut , with a few more summer residents. A chunk of the island is a part of Acadia National Park. If you're looking for the mailboat schedule, here it is.
Because this is Autoliterate, after all, I'm going to nerdishly try to identify the machines that Winky shot. It's not quite trainspotting, perhaps, but it's close. I believe this guy (above) is snoozing in the same '66 Dodge Dart, as below.
And what could this be but a 1952 Pontiac Chieftain?
No split windscreen? Must be a 1954 Chevrolet "Advanced Design" truck.
Matched pair.
No state roads--and no staties--on Isle au Haut, so up-to-date registration is not a priority.
I believe this gorgeous beast is a 1948 Plymouth.
I went to a fishing camp with my father when I was eleven. Our guide had one of these Willys Jeep wagons, circa 1960. I forgot all about fishing and spent the afternoon behind the wheel, driving up and down a range road in Quebec.
See? No state roads on Isle au Haut. Not a lot of traffic.
There are les than a hundred year rounders Isle au Haut , with a few more summer residents. A chunk of the island is a part of Acadia National Park. If you're looking for the mailboat schedule, here it is.
August 15, 2011
My Brilliant Careerism, part 4
PROFILEPeter Behrens blends fact and fiction in family saga The O'BriensJOHN BARBERFrom Saturday's Globe and MailPublished Friday, Jul. 29, 2011 4:30PM EDTLast updated Monday, Aug. 01, 2011 10:07AM EDT
(P.S. "The O'Briens" comes out in the US in March 2012 (Pantheon).
August 14, 2011
Autobody at Ballroom Marfa
AUTOBODY is the upcoming show at Ballroom Marfa.
MEREDITH DANLUCK
Fairlane, 2009
Digital C-print
30 x 40"
Autoliterate hopes that Ballroom invites Hector Sanchez, Marfa autobodyman extraordinaire, to the opening. See more Autoliterate posts about HS and his work on the Custom Deluxe here and here.
MEREDITH DANLUCK
Fairlane, 2009
Digital C-print
30 x 40"
Autoliterate hopes that Ballroom invites Hector Sanchez, Marfa autobodyman extraordinaire, to the opening. See more Autoliterate posts about HS and his work on the Custom Deluxe here and here.
August 11, 2011
Autoliterate en France
From our correspondant a Paris, Sam Holdsworth:
"Is this a car guy who needed the boat accessory, or a boat guy who needed the car accessory? Either way could you find a better tender for this massive iron barge than an Amphicar? Indispensable if you happen to have forgotten the baguette at the last lock."--S.H.
"Is this a car guy who needed the boat accessory, or a boat guy who needed the car accessory? Either way could you find a better tender for this massive iron barge than an Amphicar? Indispensable if you happen to have forgotten the baguette at the last lock."--S.H.
The Truck Trope
The truck is a big draw for H's pals. They like to climb all over it, sit behind the wheel, stomp around in back.
Where does the truck-trope come from? Not to get essentialist here, but it seems buried deep somewhere near the heart of guydom. So far, very few little girls have expressed interest in either of our trucks, but boys seem drawn to it. Is it the big, boxy, toylike shape? The deep growl of the engine? Or just the simple, blunt, graspable size of everything?
I had a serious truck-trope as a boy, and would stare at them for hours. My family lived in an apartment in Montreal. We had a very metropolitan lifestyle. My father wasn't at all interested in trucks, or cars, though we always had a sedate sedan, which he always traded in every three years, after consulting me on what to buy next, since he didn't much care. I remember my first ride out in the open, in the back of a pickup truck, at Goose Rocks Beach, Maine when I was 6. I learned to drive the summer I was 12, in a 1951 Chevrolet Advanced Design pickup that Emil Cochand drove all the way home to St Marguerite, Quebec, from Missoula, Montana, where he was on the U of Montana ski team.
Emil's truck had a suicide knob on the wheel; very cool.
My next truck love was the 1961 Apache I drove when I worked on a cattle ranch in Sundre, Alberta.
Where does the truck-trope come from? Not to get essentialist here, but it seems buried deep somewhere near the heart of guydom. So far, very few little girls have expressed interest in either of our trucks, but boys seem drawn to it. Is it the big, boxy, toylike shape? The deep growl of the engine? Or just the simple, blunt, graspable size of everything?
I had a serious truck-trope as a boy, and would stare at them for hours. My family lived in an apartment in Montreal. We had a very metropolitan lifestyle. My father wasn't at all interested in trucks, or cars, though we always had a sedate sedan, which he always traded in every three years, after consulting me on what to buy next, since he didn't much care. I remember my first ride out in the open, in the back of a pickup truck, at Goose Rocks Beach, Maine when I was 6. I learned to drive the summer I was 12, in a 1951 Chevrolet Advanced Design pickup that Emil Cochand drove all the way home to St Marguerite, Quebec, from Missoula, Montana, where he was on the U of Montana ski team.
Emil's truck had a suicide knob on the wheel; very cool.
My next truck love was the 1961 Apache I drove when I worked on a cattle ranch in Sundre, Alberta.
August 5, 2011
August 3, 2011
Mercury Comet a vendre
Our Maritime Provinces correspondent saw this nice little 1963 Mercury Comet for sale in Kamouraska, Quebec, on the south shore of the St Lawrence River, about a hundred miles downstream of Quebec City.
If you don't buy the Comet, make sure to pick up some smoked sturgeon at Kamouraska. The area was first settled in the late 17th century. There's a long tradition of eel fishing, and an interpretive centre on eel fishing in the village. I haven't tried to watch the Claude Jutra film Kamouraska since college, but even back then, when I had more patience with very trying films, it was a challenge to sit through, despite Genevieve Bujold.
If you don't buy the Comet, make sure to pick up some smoked sturgeon at Kamouraska. The area was first settled in the late 17th century. There's a long tradition of eel fishing, and an interpretive centre on eel fishing in the village. I haven't tried to watch the Claude Jutra film Kamouraska since college, but even back then, when I had more patience with very trying films, it was a challenge to sit through, despite Genevieve Bujold.
August 2, 2011
Unicat, Ford Ranger, and Cadillac Escalade EXT
The origami is one thing. But the garbage truck is another. http://tottglobal.com/won-park-origami-master-that-lives-in-a-garbage-truck/ It's not really a garbage truck. It's a purpose-built Unicat RV. Unicats are German trucks designed to go just about anywhere.
Autoliterate appreciates rugged Euro truck design. The Europeans don't seem to mind trucks looking like trucks: functional, rugged, and designed to do a job rather than to be props in some tired mythology of manliness; like the massive, swollen pickup trucks Chevrolet, Dodge and Ford are turning out these days. Which seem to be all about braggadacio (hey, that might be a good name for one: the Dodge Braggadacio?). The gigantic 21st century American pickup truck radiates a sort of steroid-induced Sylvester Stallone ersatz masculinity that always seems on the verge of hysterical tears. Not to mention ersatz-truck vulgar monstrosities like the Cadillac Escalade EXT .
(Autoliterate sadly notes that the venerable little Ford Ranger, one of the few pickups that have kept it simple, is being cut out after 27 years: 2011 is the last model year for Ranger.
Autoliterate appreciates rugged Euro truck design. The Europeans don't seem to mind trucks looking like trucks: functional, rugged, and designed to do a job rather than to be props in some tired mythology of manliness; like the massive, swollen pickup trucks Chevrolet, Dodge and Ford are turning out these days. Which seem to be all about braggadacio (hey, that might be a good name for one: the Dodge Braggadacio?). The gigantic 21st century American pickup truck radiates a sort of steroid-induced Sylvester Stallone ersatz masculinity that always seems on the verge of hysterical tears. Not to mention ersatz-truck vulgar monstrosities like the Cadillac Escalade EXT .
(Autoliterate sadly notes that the venerable little Ford Ranger, one of the few pickups that have kept it simple, is being cut out after 27 years: 2011 is the last model year for Ranger.
August 1, 2011
Patina...and the 1959 F100
Our Central Coast correspondent, the painter Chris Baker, has an eye for trucks that display, shall we say, patina. It's not a word that we really like--but we can't think of a better. We certainly appreciate plain old trucks that have been around a while and show it, but are still strong and solid, and seem determined to keep going. Chris found us this weathered, slightly beat-up, but magnificent 52-year-old F100 survivor on a what looks like a foggy (the "marine layer", aka June Gloom) summer day in Carpinteria, Calif.
