The city streets of Prague’s Old Town may be fairly narrow, but a Mini still looks small. Perhaps the enormous-looking man behind the wheel adds to the effect. Whatever the case, the connection to the original Italian Job makes me happy any time I see a Mini in a European city.
So this is it: Commencement was yesterday, the graduated seniors are gone off to their lives, and my miniature project to document the end of the school year is coming to an end, as well. The seniors graduated, packed, and evacuated in a single hectic afternoon. The strange calm when the dorms are emptied and the cars hit the road and vanish into the distance is what really gets me. (Though, of course, I’m very proud of my students, going out to begin their “real world”/grad school lives.) Over the course of this week, I’m going to translate those thoughts on “moving on” to a few other pictures of cars and trucks that I’ve taken—recently, and in the past. Consider this shot of my Mini as the first in the series.
Behind that car, positioned at the edge of Canton, is a view across the valley—a view of my surroundings that (in its own minor way) mirrors the equivalent shot I took two years ago of my surroundings from that time period. Though less dramatic, the North Country has its own summer vibe going.
Through the long North Country winter (my favorite theme, of late), there are few activities more fun than bombing along empty back roads in my Mini. Camera on the seat next to me, tripod in the back, and gnarly snow tires beneath me. Adventure and strangeness and exploration: there’s always another road I’ve never before ventured down. In this photograph, I capture the experience: crusty Mini, open field, and the beginning of a lovely sunset.