Classic Euro Economy Cars: Citroen-2cv

The Citroën 2CV (French: deux chevaux vapeur, literally "two steam horses", from the tax horsepower rating) was an economy car produced by the French automaker Citroen from 1949 to 1990. It is considered one of their most iconic cars. It was described in the book Drive On!: A Social History of the Motor Car by longtime CAR magazine columnist the late LJK Setright as"the most intelligent application of minimalism ever to succeed as a car." The 2CV belongs to a very short list of vehicles introduced right after WWII that remained relevant and competitive for many decades — in the case of the 2CV, 42 years.

It was designed for low cost, simplicity, versatility, reliability, and off-road driving. For this it had a light, easily serviceable engine, extremely soft long travel suspension (with adjustable ride height), high clearance, and for oversized loads a car-wide canvas sunroof (which until 1960 also covered the boot). Between 1948 and 1990 3,872,583 2CVs were produced, plus 1,246,306 camionettes (small 2CV trucks), as well as spawning mechanically identical vehicles like the Ami, Dyane, Acadiane, and Mehari.

From 1988 onwards production took place in Portugal rather than in France. This arrangement lasted for two years until 2CV production halted. The level of technology in the 1948 2CV was remarkable for a car of any price in that era, let alone one of the cheapest cars on the planet. While colors and detail specifications were modified in the ensuing 42 years, the biggest mechanical change was the addition of front disc brakes in 1981 (from the discontinued Citroen Dyane), for the 1982 model year. The body was constructed of a dual H-frame chassis, an aircraft-style tube framework, and a very thin steel shell.

The car featured an air-cooled, flat-twin, four-stroke, 375 cc engine, with the notoriously underpowered earliest model developing only 9 bhp DIN (6.5 kW). A 425 cc engine was introduced in 1955, followed by a 602 cc (giving 28 bhp (20.5 kW) at 7000 rpm) in 1968.

The 2CV has also been used for travel around the world. In 1958–1959 two young Frenchmen, Jean-Claude Baudot and Jacques Seguela started at the Paris Motor Show on Oct. 9, 1958, headed south and crossed the Mediterranean by boat from Port Vendres to Algeria; traversed the African continent and crossed the South Atlantic from Cape Town to Rio de Janerio; cris-crossed South America and the U.S. and boated from San Francisco to Yokohama. They returned to Paris on Nov. 11, 1959. During the 13 months, they drove 100 000 kilometers, and consumed 5 000 liters of petrol and 36 tires. Find out more at: http://www.cats-citroen.net/

Research info gathered at: www.wikipedia.org

Now, here’s one of my poems with a French accent:

And Nothing.Or Not.

As surely as one foot falls
in front of the other
we all share the experience of
joy and sorrow over years:
lying on his back
an angle facing the table
with lids shut down
dressed in a work shirt
and blue dungarees
a few empty bottles of beer
chicken wings on the table
the skins of some strange fruit
hair matted & damp
those early hints of gray
less two cigarettes from a pack
the dog's dish bone dry
as a face lined in wilderness
there was no blood
on permanently sealed lips
in a calm before the wake
as if an ordinary immobile body
could upright the over-turned chair.

Poem first published at: http://nzpoetsonline.homestead.com/
Visit my ezine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/

tutoring blog: http://www.miceintheclassroom.blogspot.com/
And music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
Poem Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.

Native American Warriors: Manuelito

Manuelito was one of the war chiefs of the Navajo people before, during and after what is now known as the Long Walk Period. He was born to the Bit'ahni Clan, near the Bear's Ears in southeastern Utah in about 1818. His name means “Little Manuel,” in Spanish but he had many other Navajo names too. The Navajo once lived in much of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado. They had clan leaders instead of "head chiefs".

By the 1850s, leaders including Manuelito, had become wealthy through livestock, agriculture, and raids on Mexican and neighboring Indian tribes. But as the western territories became part of the U. S. after the Mexican War, this all changed. Mexicans automatically became American citizens while Navajos did not. When the Mexican-Americans raided Navajo homes, kidnapping women and children to be sold as slaves, the U.S. Army usually did nothing. When Navajos fought back, the government punished them. Manuelito’s own home, crops and livestock were destroyed by soldiers in a “punishment raid” in 1859.

In 1860, he attacked Fort Defiance, Arizona, a military outpost commanded by Colonel Edward R.S. Canby. By then, the Civil War had started, and the Army needed soldiers to fight east of the Mississippi River. So Canby and Manuelito made peace, but with no Army to keep peace, fighting continued.

By 1863, the situation was so bad General James Carleton was sent from California with orders to remove all the Indians to a new reservation called Bosque Redondo, at Fort Sumner, New Mexico, a dry wasteland. Navajos were given a short time to surrender. When they did not, Carleton sent Kit Carson and his troops to destroy crops, livestock, and homes. By October 1863, the first Navajos began making the “Long Walk” from their homelands 350 miles southeast to Fort Sumner. They were given plenty of food and good treatment so others would follow, and when they did not, Carson raided the Canyon de Chelly, a Navajo heartland.

Navajo began to surrender by the thousands in March 1864 and Manuelito and his warriors became the last hold-outs. In February 1865 Carleton sent six Navajo headmen to plead with him to surrender for the sake of his starving people. He still refused. Finally, in September, Manuelito and 23 of his warriors surrendered, their emaciated bodies clad only in rags.

In 1868, after hundreds died of disease and starvation, a new treaty was signed granting the Navajo a reservation back in their original land, along with livestock and food supplies. Manuelito served as head chief from 1870 to 1884. In 1876 he traveled to Washington where he met with President U.S. Grant. He died from measles complicated by pneumonia in 1894 at the age of 76, one of the most respected figures in Navajo history. More about this hero at: www.accessgenealogy.com/native/indianchiefs/manuelito_navajo_war_chief.htm

Research info gathered at: http://www.wikipedia.org/

Now, here's one of my poems that can ride bareback:

The Secret To A Great Lip-Sync...

or in anticipation ofa treat home hurries
the steel-toe shoes to potlick a ride
on your tongue I beg. Or truth
be told, the delights of being
safely tucked in the roof
of your mouth and
topple up the
stairs to
our bedroom.
A candle flickers
and the gull plays
voyeur on the window
ledge as the moon slips in &
out of clouds once it's stripped down
to its underwear.

Poem first published at: http://venerealkittens.blogspot.com/
Visit my ezine at: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
and tutoring blog: http://www.miceintheclassroom.blogspot.com/
Poem Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.

Native American Warriors: Crazy Horse

Crazy Horse, or Thašuŋka Witko, was born on the southern part of the Cheyenne River in around 1842. Crazy Horse's father, a Lakota who was also named Crazy Horse (born 1810), passed the name to his son, taking the new name of Worm for himself thereafter. The mother of the younger Crazy Horse was Rattling Blanket Woman (born 1814), a Lakota as well. Rattling Blanket Woman was the daughter of Black Buffalo, the chief who met Lewis and Clark on the Bad River.

Crazy Horse was a brave and skilled warrior who showed his fighting skills at a young age. In 1864, after the Sand Creek Massacre of the Cheyenne in Colorado, the Lakota tribe joined forces with the Cheyenne against the U.S. Army. Crazy Horse was present at the Battle of Red Buttes and the Platte River Bridge Station in 1865 and was made a war leader. He then fought with Red Cloud in the 1865-68 war, playing a key role in destroying William J. Fetterman's brigade at Fort Phil Kearny in 1867. However, that victory did not stop the settlers from coming and the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 opened the door of Lakota land to all that Crazy Horse fought to prevent.

Still, he continued to fight, leading a party of warriors in attacking a survey party sent into the Black Hills by General George Armstrong Custer in 1873. When the U.S. War Department ordered all Lakota onto reservations in 1876, Crazy Horse decided to lead a resistance, fighting in the War for the Black Hills of 1876-77. On June 17, 1876, he fought at the Battle of the Rosebud and a week later, joined forces with Sitting Bull and Chief Gall in the attack that destroyed Custer’s Seventh Cavalry at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. General Nelson Miles chased Crazy Horse and his men throughout the winter of 1876-77. On Jan. 8, 1877, his warriors fought their last major battle against the U.S. Cavalry at Wolf Mountain in the Montana Territory. On May 6 of that year, knowing that his people were weakened by cold and hunger, Crazy Horse surrendered to U.S. troops at Camp Robinson in Nebraska.

In reaction to a rumor that Crazy Horse was planning an escape from his reservation, the Red Cloud Agency (Indian soldiers working for the U.S. government), Army troops and Indian police arrested the famous chief. When he discovered he was being taken to the post jail, Crazy Horse began pulling away from his guards and was either accidentally stabbed with a knife or was bayoneted by an army sentry, Private William Gentles. He died that night on September 5, 1877. After his death, his body was given to his elderly parents, who secretly buried the Sioux chief somewhere in the wilds near Nebraska’s Red Cloud Agency. Find out more about this Native American legend at: http://www.crazyhorse.org/

Research info gathered at: www.wikipedia.org

Now, here's one of my previously published poems rain dancing:

Eventually, A Horse

Or hailstorms to build split-level houses.

When both bells & birds stop. The big mouth

of a refrigerator. Or irony sitting on the

back porch. Girls with flowers to push broom.

The skinny sequoia in a newspaper. Lousy wig.

Lazy lock. A giant running backwards...

fistfuls of handy-wipes

doodles on a napkin

Trying to figure out the best way to

disguise a wish-bone.

One large alarm clock ticking

down the hole...

more sentimental rain

a self-indulgent cloud

I could donate my front door to science,

she teases, with her hand on the knob.

And you're about as natural as a freeway, I

reply, because I think the words hit & run.

You see how difficult gift-giving is?

Poem first published at: http://www.myfavoritebullet.com/

Visit my ezine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/

tutoring blog: http://www.miceintheclassroom.blogspot.com/

and eclectic blog: http://www.copyat5.blogspot.com/

Native American Warriors: Dull Knife

Dull Knife, who was also known by his Lakota Sioux name of Morning Star (Tamílapéšni), was a chief to the Northern Cheyenne people. He (on right in photo) was born in Montana in about 1810 and gained a reputation as a successful warrior at an early age. He was only nine years old when his family was separated from the rest of the tribe while on a buffalo hunt. His father was away and his mother busy, and he was playing with his little sister on the banks of a stream, when a large herd of buffalo swept down upon them on a stampede for water. His mother climbed a tree, but the little boy led his sister into an old beaver den whose entrance was above water, and remained in shelter until the buffalo passed and they were found by their distracted parents.

Dull Knife was described by many of the 19th century writers as "an admirable outlaw". In 1868, he represented his tribe at the signing of the Treaty of Fort Laramie. As the U.S. government broke one promise after another he soon came to regret it. Following "Custer's Last Stand" at the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876, Dull Knife became an ally with the Dakota and other tribes against army troops. However, after a disastrous raid by American soldiers (the Dull Knife Fight) in which 153 tepees were destroyed and 500 war ponies captured, most of the Cheyenne were eventually forced to surrender and move to the Indian Territory in Oklahoma. But because they were unable to hunt on the trip and were given very little rations by the government, many suffered from starvation and disease.

Dull Knife saw what was happening, and in September 1878 he decided to lead the tribe on a 400 mile trek north again toward their ancient homelands. Fighting 1,000 soldiers the Cheyenne were unable to win a battle against U.S. soldiers in the Nebraska Sand Hills. On Oct. 23, 1878, Dull Knife and his people surrendered peaceably to the Army and were imprisoned in nearby Fort Robinson (Nebraska). When they refused to return to Oklahoma, an attempt was made to starve them into going, and the Indians were not given heat, food, or water.

They broke out of prison on January 9, 1879 and, in their dash for freedom, 64 were killed and 78 were recaptured, but six people, including Dull Knife and surviving members of his family, escaped and made it to the relative safety of the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. By this time public opinion was on the side of the Indians, and the Bureau of Indian Affairs were forced to a establish a reservation for the northern Cheyenne on the Tongue and Rosebud rivers, where Dull Knife and his people (fewer than 80 remaining) were finally allowed to settle. Because of his courage, the Northern Cheyenne today still possess a homeland in their traditional country (present-day Montana). Dull Knife lived out his days on a reservation assigned to the surviving Cheyenne in the Rosebud Valley. He died in 1883 and was buried on high ground near his home. Find out more about him at: www.legendsofamerica.com/NA-Dullknife.html

Research info gathered at: www.wikipeida.org

Now, here's one of my poems that can cut you too:

Do You Read Me, Copy?

His chair can purr.

He takes it everywhere he goes.

Some say he feels this unusual

closeness because the chair

reminds him of the basic

animal instinct in all of

us. Others insist the

chair is simply his

“security blanket”

he’ll never have

to wash. Whatever

the reason, year after

year he carries it over a

shoulder. He once even had

it upholstered in a flame-stitch

pattern using colors taken from the

rainbow. But the chair remained

non-committal with sturdy

legs. It prides itself in

being a perfect

dance

partner and

never eats meat.

It can be positioned in

an endless variety of angles

and has a built-in microphone.

Best of all, when he finishes this

life he can just fold it up and ship it

by parcel post to that place, rumored

to be somewhere beyond the white light.

Poem first published at: http://www.sundress.net/21stars

Visit my ezine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/

tutoring blog: http://www.miceintheclassroom.blogspot.com

and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/

Poem Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.

Native American Warriors: Chief Joseph

Hinmaton Yalatkit, “Thunder Rolling in the Heights,” a Nez Percé chief, was a peaceful man who came to be known as one of the greatest Indian military commanders of the 19th century. He was born at the mouth of Joseph Creek, in Wallowa Valley, Washington, in 1832, the third child of Khapkhaponimi, a Nez Percé woman, and her husband, Tuekakas, a Cayuse man also known as Old Joseph. The younger got his name after being baptized by Christian missionaries. He would use the name for the rest of his life.

Joseph became chief at 30 when his father died. The 6’ 2’’ tall younger Joseph was brave but not a warrior chief. He relied instead on passive resistance in his relations with Whites. By 1835 (especially after gold was discovered) white settlers began to move onto the Nez Percé’s beautiful fertile land. Indians were forced to live on reservations. By 1863, a new treaty had reduced the reservation to about 550 square miles and no longer included the land of many of the tribal leaders land, including Joseph’s father, so some refused to sign it and continued to occupy their homeland in the Wallowa Valley in relative peace with their white neighbors.

Finally, in 1877, the government took action against Joseph and the rest of the non-treaty Nez Percé. General O. O. Howard met with them to try to reach a peaceful agreement, but fighting broke out between young warriors and white settlers and both sides were forced into a state of war. In the first major battle, at White Bird Canyon, the U.S. Army was almost annihilated. The Nez Percé won 18 more battles, but Joseph knew he had only three ways to end the war: annihilation, surrender, or retreat. He chose to retreat. His original plan was to join the Crow people in Montana, but they refused to help him, so he decided to go to Canada to join Sitting Bull and the Sioux who had fled there in 1876.

The retreat of Joseph’s people turned out to be one of the most brilliant in United States military history. They were able to escape U.S. troops because a few sharpshooters were able to hold off large numbers of soldiers. Their speed amazed the Army and they even managed to maintain good relations with the Whites they met along the way. Joseph led about 750 of his people twice over the Rocky Mountains, through Yellowstone Park (which became a park in 1872), and across the Missouri River. The journey covered four states and over 1,500 miles. But while resting on the way to Canada, General Nelson Miles caught-up with him and attacked on September 30th. Joseph and his men fought bravely but were to few in number to win. On October 5, 1877 he surrendered. He and his people were sent to reservations far from their homeland. Joseph went to Washington D.C. twice to ask President McKinley for help but nothing was done. He died on September 21, 1904. Find out more at: www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/people_c/chiefjoseph.htm

Research info gathered at: www.wikipedia.org

Now, here's one of my poems wearing buckskins:

Items Needed For 'Data Mining'

The list is relatively short. You'll need

the wealth of a shipping tycoon like

China. A signature that retains its

maiden name. The general idea

that history repeats itself. A

reliable 401K which is by

most accounts considered

"cautiously optimistic". Art

for art's sake. An obituary written

well in ad-vance. A couple of seersucker

summer suits. An old-fashioned rotary phone

and a phone book from '56. The uncanny ability

to mind-read. A religion that doesn't cause

heart burn. Pictures of the floating

gardens of Babylon. One lime

colored hula hoop. A pair

of genuine Mickey

Mouse ears. A

guidebook to the

first stop in your itinerary.

A room with a view of utopia.

And at least twenty-four hours to make your decision.

Poem first published at: http://www.whyvandalism.com/

Visit my ezine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/

and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/

Poem Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.

Native American Warriors: Red Cloud

Red Cloud was born around 1822, close to the forks of the Platte River near the modern-day city of North Platte, Nebraska. His mother was an Oglala and his father was a Brule Indian. Red Cloud was partly raised by his maternal uncle, Chief Smoke. At a young age, he fought against neighboring Pawnee and Crow, learning valuable military experience.

He became the Chief of the Oglala Sioux Indian Tribe. One of the fiercest enemies the U.S. Army ever fought, he led the successful Indian Campaign known as Red Cloud's War between 1866 and 1868. He fought the army for control of parts of Montana and Wyoming.

He started Red Cloud's war in 1866, which was the most successful war an Indian nation ever waged against the US Army. The military was building forts along the Bozeman Trail straight through the Lakota Territory of Wyoming and Montana. As miners and pioneers started encroaching on Lakota Land, Red Cloud feared the end of the Indian way of life there.

Red Cloud's military success forced the U. S. to make treaties with the Indians. The army abandoned its forts on the Bozeman Trail, and gave the Lakota possession of much of what is now South Dakota. In particular, the Lakotas were given the Black Hills of Montana and Wyoming. Peace was short-lived. In 1874, General Custer attacked Red Cloud. Red Cloud did not take part in the Lakota war of 1876–77 with Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, and other war leaders.

Throughout the 1880's Red Cloud struggled with the Indian Agent who had been assigned to the Pine Ridge Reservation on the White River in South Dakota where he was forced to live. He complained to the government about the awful way food was given to the people that lived there and about who should control the reservation’s police force. He was eventually successful in getting the agent fired from his job. Red Cloud also worked with whites back East who wanted to see a better life for Native Americans on reservations and he even with to Washington D.C. to meet the President.

Red Cloud became an important leader of the Lakota as they transitioned from the freedom of the plains to the confinement of the reservation system. He outlived the other major Sioux leaders of the Indian wars and died in 1909 at the age of 87 on the Pine Ridge Reservation, where he is buried. An Indian school on the reservation was later named in his honor. Find out more about his life at: www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Cloud

Research info gathered at: http://www.wikipedia.org/

Now, here's one of my poems riding side-saddle:

The Correct Way To Drive An Abu Ghrib

In this scenario I marry the blue dress and

end-up smiling with an ice pick in my skull.

Every dusty highway is lined with blinking

neon signs that declare "No Vacancy" or the

motel is a version of heaven for the affluent.

There's fire in the winter stars. The murky

water in roadside ditches hum Motown tunes.

A guardrail that likes to hug. A dim railroad

crossing that prefers bow ties. Miles and miles

of Route 66 with someones fingers tightening

around its throat. A dirty windshield with

telepathic eyes. Either way, it all depends on

the price of gas and whether we can move the

furniture around enough to have the room

we need to dance to The Supremes...

and the flicker of the candle grows imperceptibly
taller as it burns.

Poem first publised at: www.main.nc.us/wiresandwich

Visit my ezine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/

and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/

Poem Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.