May 26th, 2009 at 8:30 am

REST STOP

Confronted with these phenomenally sexy photos of a phenomenally sexy couple going at it in a car with abandon and cowboy boots, the first thing I ask photographer Glenn Glasser is, “What kind of car is that?” (I suppose that shows where my mind is.) “A 1961 Lincoln Continental,” Glasser tells me. “The kind JFK was shot in.” I actually whistle. That’s a car. It’s a machine, a beast, the kind that contains its own rumbling universe. It’s meant to hurtle assertively down a highway, to envelop its passengers in the silent, protective nowhereness of travel.-— Carrie Hill Wilner