Up for auction at Owl's Head Museum in Rockalnd, Maine on Saturday August 19. They say 46k original miles.
- Brooklin, Maine, United States
- We own a 1975 GMC Sierra Grande 15 in Maine and a 1986 Chevrolet Custom Deluxe 10 in West Texas. Also a pair of 1997 Volvo 850 wagons. Average age in the fleet is 28 years--we're recycling. I've published 3 novels: THE LAW OF DREAMS (2006), THE O'BRIENS (2012), and CARRY ME (2016). Also 2 short story collections: NIGHT DRIVING(1987) and TRAVELLING LIGHT (2013). More of my literary life is at www.peterbehrens.org I was a Fellow at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study for 2012-13. I'm an adjunct professor at Colorado College and in the MFA program at Queens University of Charlotte. In 2015-16 I was a Fellow at Harvard University's Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study. The Autoliterate office is in Car Talk Plaza in Harvard Square, 2 floors above Dewey Cheatem & Howe. SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUTOLITERATE DAILY EMAIL by hitting the button to the right.
Friday, August 18, 2017
from Alex Emond in south Saskatchewan: Here's a fine old farm truck from Ponteix, Saskatchewan. Chunky, no frills work truck. I'd call it " Mercules ". It's got a PTO dump option so the bed tips up to offload. Cool. Maybe not as tough as this Buffalo bull but close . Cheers, Alex
p.s. The bison was south of town in the Grasslands National Park ...
Posted by autoliterate at 5:00 AM
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Monday, August 14, 2017
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Friday, August 11, 2017
The sky never touches the ground but races it, forever and ever.
I am driving us home from the church,
away from the last of summer, through the
funeral dusk. There is no bend in the road.
She is riding shotgun, exhausted, curling away
from awful truths. Blowing smoke from a crack
in the window, eyes closed.
We are surrounded by wheat and corn,
just like people always say.
I can feel the farness in my muscles.
I can feel the love in my teeth, humming.
When we get home, we can have a drink,
uncoil, not talk about it. This is what we
I want to stop the car, walk out into the fields,
and lie down on the ground, flat on my back.
I want to lie flat out, not feeling it,
until forever lets me on for the ride.
--Eva H.D., from her collection Rotten Perfect Mouth
And here's a link to another road poem, John Newlove's Driving.
Posted by autoliterate at 6:45 AM