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It’s an interesting question, though. Times when people are telling stories for effect, like people do, I have talked about some things. But different things. This whole process went on so long — looking back at the years, I mostly inclined toward the normal-ish, fun things, or the once-in-a lifetime events that make for memorable theatre.

I’m telling a different story, you know? And it’s never been told, and I’m learning to tell it as I go; where to bear down, where to ease up; where to let the events speak for themselves — I decided ahead of time not to edit too much and just let the words fall out.

All that said, until it was lost in 93 I kept a bound note book with the words, “Canada Poems,” on the cover, that I filled, over the years, with poetry and other writings that seemed pertinent then.

I didn’t own the chevette for long, and it was awkward and ugly (and front-wheel drive), but reliable. Pretty sure it wasn’t on the same chassis as the European one, but I just looked at pictures (because the internet, and why not?), and it was similar enough to go on with.

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