Cracks In The Drunken Concretescape | Poetry of Mankh |Axisoflogic.com

“So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car 
speed so fast it felt like I was drunk 
City lights lay out before us 
And your arm felt nice wrapped round my shoulder 
And I, I had a feeling that I belonged 
And I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone”

- Tracy Chapman,

from her song “Fast Car”

“The automobile is transforming and ruining most of the cities, not just San Francisco. I call it Autogeddon. Autogeddon is ruining the cities.”

- Lawrence Ferlinghetti[1] 

“There's roads and there's roads 
And they call, can't you hear it? 
Roads of the earth 
And roads of the spirit”

- Bruce Cockburn,

from his song “Child of the Wind”

The automobile is a key symbol of the American illusion of freedom, the freedom to roam, to go 'anywhere I damn please,' buoyed by the iconic Hollywood road trip movie and one of the most iconic books of American literature (especially for young men), Jack Kerouac’s “On The Road,” influencing generations of poets and writers, myself included, both with writing and traveling the country.

Detroit, once America’s hub of automobiles and music, Motor City (dominated by General Motors, Ford, Chrysler) and Motown Records; who has not enjoyed bopping to some beats as you “Ease on down / Ease on down the road.” [2]

But the boom busted as the bulk of auto-making went overseas and the General was no longer the boss of the auto army. But the General was responsible, in part, for transforming the landscape into a concretescape, forever changing how business and travel happen ― that is, until the lowly private, COVID-19, showed up, or didn't exactly show up because of being microscopic.

Sometimes referred to as the “General Motors streetcar conspiracy”:

“Between 1938 and 1950, National City Lines and its subsidiaries, American City Lines and Pacific City Lines —with investment from GM, Firestone Tire, Standard Oil of California (through a subsidiary), Federal Engineering, Philips Petroleum, and Mack Trucks—gained control of additional transit systems in about 25 cities.”[3]

Streetcar mass transit was literally driven out by the unholy trinity of fossil fuels, rubber from trees along with synthetic rubbers (popular in Nazi Germany), and automobiles, all enhancing the burgeoning post-WW-II boom-time economy. A return to mass transit with high-speed trains would be a good reversal.

Michael Moore's first documentary “Roger & Me” (1989) highlighted the effects of the closing of auto plants:

“... the regional economic impact of General Motors CEO Roger Smith's action of closing several auto plants in his [Moore's] hometown of Flint, Michigan, reducing GM's employees in that area from 80,000 in 1978 to about 50,000 in 1992. As of August 2015, GM employs approximately 7,200 workers in the Flint area...”[4]

Add to that, Flint's lead-piped water problems.

The excellent 2011 documentary “Urban Roots” shows how once-tainted industrial Detroit soil can be transformed with local gardens.

Long (under)standing roots
Some years ago when learning more about the perspective of and lifestyles of the Original Inhabitants of Turtle Island, I began to see the stereotypical American road trip as escapist and typically ignorant of the lands being tripped through. Various roadside crafts for sale, (especially in the southwest), help Native Peoples put food on the table, yet the tourist is likely to drive away with the impression of the Native as a curio, a commodity sideshow of the traveling American progress.

With TV, the all-American vehicle became programmed as a symbol of success and freedom, with relentless car, truck, and SUV commercials typically showing the vehicle traversing rough terrain as a macho symbol of not letting the natural habitat get in one's manifest destination way, come hell or high water. The acquiring of one's first car is an American rite of passage, followed by a sight-seeing road trip but what about inner vision along with being respectful of the land being driven through?

Add to that the slogan “America runs on Dunkin,'” and, though in my humble opinion their coffee is rather good, the point here is that a sugar caffeine buzz on the road became as American as, well, you know, apple pie, and the hard concrete road became a symbol of the dominant culture as well as a literal marker of the degradation of lands, the disconnect from feet touching soft earth. And God help you if you're “under God” without a driver's license.

There's a natural rush to driving, as with downhill skiing and, I imagine, hang gliding, yet it's the package deal vehicle identity that has been suddenly squelched because of COVID-19. For the time being, gas prices have plummeted and global skies are clearer, in part, due to less auto travel which also means less trash being thrown out of vehicle windows. The following statistics don't necessarily prove anything but they make for an interesting pattern:

“Americans make up less than 4% of the total world's population yet contribute to a whopping 25% of the total waste generated.”[5]

“The United States has 4% of the world's population but has 28% of the recorded deaths from the coronavirus.”[6]

“The U.S. has '5 percent of the world’s population, 25 percent of the world’s known prison population.'”[7]

Gives new meaning to defensive driving
That there is a war consciousness embedded in US roads is proven by the fact that the Interstate Highway system was originally called “The Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways”:

“The Interstate Highway System gained a champion in President Dwight D. Eisenhower, who was influenced by his experiences as a young Army officer crossing the country in the 1919 Army Convoy on the Lincoln Highway, the first road across America. Eisenhower gained an appreciation of the Reichautobahn system, the first “national" implementation of modern Germany's Autobahn network, as a necessary component of a national defense system while he was serving as Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in Europe during World War II. In 1954, Eisenhower appointed General Lucius D. Clay to head a committee charged with proposing an interstate highway system plan. Summing up motivations for the construction of such a system, Clay stated,

'It was evident we needed better highways. We needed them for safety, to accommodate more automobiles. We needed them for defense purposes, if that should ever be necessary. And we needed them for the economy. Not just as a public works measure, but for future growth.'”[8]

Many roads follow routes once walked by Native Peoples. Sadly, to this day the asphalt concrete road remains a battle ground for the consciousness and lifestyle of the Native Peoples and the American paved dream that was superimposed on Turtle Island. For so-called “defense purposes” the Governor of South Dakota, Kristi Noem, has recently claimed that the Oglala Lakota and Cheyenne River Lakota checkpoints (there so as to help prevent the spread of COVID-19 on their reservations) are blocking US traffic. There's no jurisdiction for her claim[9] so presumably she won't get her way, yet the claim itself raises eyebrows as to deeper ulterior motives.

The road from here
Nowadays, being at home more I was noticing that sometimes I get the urge to just go somewhere, experience that travel rush, even if just to the store, but typically I don’t. I could just drive around aimlessly but am not much for wasting time or gas.

These changing times may herald a new era of diminished travel, diminished usage of fossil fuels, and enhanced air quality.

It's not the travel itself that is bad – as most people have places to get to, whether for work, errands, health reasons, visiting family and friends, or experiencing the beauty of a beach or hiking trail – rather it's the trail of waste both on the road/land, in the air, in the water, plus the detrimental effects INSIDE Mother Earth due to the extraction of fossil fuels.

There's a new dawn that can no longer tolerate the driving roughshod over or through sacred lands, a new dawn in need of solar and other sustainable forms of energy to power people here and there.

Mankh (Walter E. Harris III) is an essayist and resident poet at Axis of Logic. In addition to his work as a writer and small press publisher, he travels a holistic mystic pathway staying in touch with Turtle Island. See his new book of nonfiction with a poetic touch, “photo albums of the heart-mind”.

NOTES
[1] “Ferlinghetti speaks out at 99, his voice as vital as ever”

[2] lyric from “Ease On Down The Road #1" from "The Wiz"

[3] “General Motors streetcar conspiracy”

[4] See here.

[5] See here.

[6] “Coronavirus epidemiologist Q&A: ‘We're just in the second inning of a nine-inning game’”

[7] See here.

[8] Interstate Highway System

[9] “Standoff in South Dakota: Cheyenne River Sioux Refuse Governor’s Demand to Remove COVID Checkpoints”

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