From the award-winning director and star of American Hemp Farmer comes “an antic and engaging account of one man’s giant step toward a smaller carbon footprint” ( St. Petersburg Times ).   “If you’re a fan of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy -style humor—and also looking to find out how to raise your own your own livestock to feed your ice-cream fetish— Farewell may prove a vital tool.”— The Washington Post   Like many Americans, Doug Fine enjoys his creature comforts, but he also knows full well that they keep him addicted to oil. So he wonders: Is it possible to keep his Netflix, his car, and his Wi-Fi, and still reduce his carbon footprint?    In an attempt to find out, Fine ups and moves to a remote ranch in New Mexico, where he brazenly vows to grow his own food, use sunlight to power his world, and fuel his car with restaurant grease. Along the way he uncovers a slew of surprising facts about alternative energy, organic and locally grown food, and climate change.    Whether he’s installing Japanese solar panels or defending the goats he found on Craigslist against coyotes, Fine’s extraordinary undertaking makes one thing clear: It ain’t easy being green. “Fine is an eco-hero for our time.” — The Miami Herald “Fine is [a] storyteller in the mold of . . . Douglas Adams. . . . If you’re a fan of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy –style humor—and also looking to find out how to raise your own livestock to feed your ice-cream fetish— Farewell may prove a vital tool.” — The Washington Post “Fine is carrying on a lovely literary tradition. . . . The lure of a thinking man in or out of harmony with nature is delicious.” — Los Angeles Times “Fine’s writing is an invigorating cocktail of environmental awareness mixed with can-do optimism, honest reflection, and spiced with plenty of laughs.” — Portland Tribune “An antic and engaging account of one man’s giant step toward a smaller carbon footprint. . . . Changing the way we live is not a single decision but a learning process, and Farewell, My Subaru makes clear that process can be a challenge—and a hoot.” — St. Petersburg Times “Entertaining and eye-opening.” — Newsday “A chuckle or a wry grin is waiting on every page. . . . It’s the kind of humor that builds gradually, that sneaks up on you with such stealth that you hardly even realize what a good time you’re having. By the end of Farewell, My Subaru you can think of nothing that would seem like more fun than hanging out at Fine’s ranch, vainly striving to keep his goats from eating the rose bushes. Think James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small —updated for the iPod generation.” — Salon “Fine is Bryson funny.” —S anta Cruz Sentinel “[Fine] set himself the goal of living ‘off the grid’ for twelve months. The results were hilarious as well as enlightening: nearly electrocuting himself with solar panels, fueling his truck with waste oil from a local Chinese restaurant, and learning to live with coyotes, goats, and an eclectic assortment of neighbors.” —National Geographic “This is Green Acres for the smart set: a witty and educational look at sustainable living. Buy it, read it, compost it.” —A. J. Jacobs, author of The Year of Living Biblically “The details of Doug Fine’s experiment in green living are great fun—but more important is the spirit, the dawning understanding that living in connection to something more tangible than a computer mouse is what we were built for. It’ll make you want to move!” —Bill McKibben, author of Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future DOUG FINE, a contributor to NPR and Public Radio International, has reported from remote perches in Burma, Rwanda, Laos, Guatemala, and Tajikistan. He is the author of Not Really an Alaskan Mountain Man, and lives in southern New Mexico. One THE PARKING BRAKE WAKE-UP CALL As I watched my Subaru Legacy slide backward toward my new ranch’s studio outbuilding, the thought crossed my mind that if it kept going— and I didn’t see why it wouldn’t—at least I would be using less gasoline. A few days after I moved into the sprawling, crumbling, forty-one acre New Mexico spread that I had named the Funky Butte Ranch (it had a funky limestone butte on its east side where two great horned owls with an active love life nested), I neglected to firmly apply that last click to the parking brake on my aged fossil fuel–powered hatchback, the LOVEsubee. This was a good thing. Really. The imminent demise of my ride, I rationalized, would help me with one of my four big goals for the next year, which were: 1. Use a lot less oil 2. Power my life by renewable energy 3. Eat as locally as possible 4. Don’t starve, electrocute myself, get eaten by the local mountain lions, get shot by my UN-fearing neighbors, or otherwise die in a way that would cause embarrassment if the obituary writer did his or her research Epiphany in the desert Southwest is not subtle. Almost nothing in this stark, gorg