Daniel

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The ferry, an old oily tub holding a few cars, bucketed down the deep river that had seen Indian canoes, Revolutionary War privateers, whaling ships, Coast Guard rum-chasers, and three generations of submarines. At the railing, I tried to watch both sides of the river: the west bank with grassy homes and an old lighthouse and on the east bank the Groton shipyards. An engineer for Singer Company (once only makers of sewing machines, but now also manufacturers of undersea warfare “systems”) stood next to me. His face was a whorl of lines like a fingerprint. I asked where they built the ...more
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Blue Highways: A Journey into America
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