The Podium

There has been lots of construction going on in a lab here at work. From a distance, the floor sealer (or something) they’ve been using smells EXACTLY like the leather protectant that BMW uses in their cars. For an entire day last week, the scent of “new BMW” drove me nuts as A) it reminded me fondly of my first BMW and B) also reminded me that I don’t have the cash to go buy myself a new BMW.

Nice smell, though.

Last night was the annual pumpkin-carving fiesta, where we joyfully assaulted helpless gourds (gourds that were stolen away from their friends and loved ones weeks ago) with saws and body scrapers, gutting them and then displaying their mutilated remains for our neighbors to enjoy. To add to the overall gruesomeness, we even added flames to the equation, lighting the bodies from within.

Of course, modern industry has made these tasks much easier. When I was a child, for example, we had to make do with inappropiately-sized carving knives and simple teaspoons, and you considered yourself lucky if the evening ended without shedding some of your own blood. (It was only honorable to bleed during the actual pumpkin hunt, when we would attack free-range gourd villages in the early morning, preferably with the sun at our backs. There are few creatures more dangerous than a wounded pumpkin. Kids today have things SO easy.)

The car racing organization that I run with holds two endurance races each year, one in the spring before the regular season starts and one right after it ends. This past week-end saw the 34th running of the “12 Hours of the Cascades” at Portland International Raceway in Portland, OR. Our “regular” enduro team was out there running Eric Krause’s Porsche 968, a car that does surprisingly well in these things despite regularly being matched up with cars that are faster. The secret is the comparatively tiny amount of time the car spends in the pits for driver changes, tires, fuel, or mechanical problems.

This particular race was a little different, in that Eric had finally installed his turbo motor earlier in the year, so fuel mileage and overall reliability were unknowns. The car was certainly faster, but it was also a lot more complicated. Unfortunately, one of those “more complicated” pieces was the piggyback engine controller that decided to burn itself up. What’s worse, it took probably 5 hours of mechanical and electrical troubleshooting to trace the problem. Seeing the car owner/driver upside down with his head buried in the wiring under the dash is never a good thing when you’re in the middle of a race!

Still, neither he nor anyone else on the team gave up or even got discouraged. We were still laughing and having a good time, despite the disappointment of watching the car drop further and further back in the standings as we tried to find the cause of a misfiring and stalling engine. The car even got running again (thanks to someone associated with Matrix Integrated) until that ECU, too, developed a problem in the final hour of the race. We finally parked it in our pit box and drove it across the line when the checkered flag waved. We were well down the running order, but we finished nonetheless.

The effort and determination to get the car back on track, even when we had no hope of finishing anywhere other than at the back, reminded me of this terrific quote from 1910 by President “Teddy” Roosevelt that I’ve always liked:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

Huh. I don’t know why I’ve never noticed it before, but being both a homeowner and a parent has meant that many of the crap jobs I’ve had over the years have made surreptitious returns… although now I get to do them for free:

• daycare (obviously)
• landscaping
• janitorial
• carpet cleaning
• customer service
• working both the front and the back of the house (restaurant work)
• light industrial/warehouse
• not to mention ad hoc carpentry, plumbing, electrical, and painting

Dammit.

Heh. Turns out I was about to create a re-post. Still true, tho’.

Like many car-enthusiast nerds, I had read all about how unpleasant run-flat tires could be in every situation except the case of a “flat.” I never had the opportunity to try them back-to-back on the same car, or do a comparison to a similar car without them, so I filed the negative comments away with a grain or two of salt. About 5 months ago, though, I bought a used BMW that was equipped with what are really good run-flat tires (Bridgestone Pole Positions, if you’re curious) and so now I have some serious experience with them.

Unless you drive to places where stopping to replace a flat is dangerous or even highly inconvenient, I would avoid run-flat tires like the plague. They are horrible, horrible things and should be replaced at your earliest opportunity.

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After waiting way, WAY too long to update my version of WordPress, I finally got off my booty and did so. In the days leading up to this, I noticed a new theme I really liked, so I decided to switch over from the “Default” theme I’ve used for years (’cause, after all, this is about the content, not the “frosting”) to something a little fancier. Of course, I can’t leave well enough alone, so I’ve spent the last hour tweaking things here and there.

I still need to change the CSS and the header graphic, but I’m too tired to do it now. We’ll all have to struggle on, somehow.

Today marks one week since I had a little accident on my bicycle. Ordinarily I wouldn’t post this story, or even really talk about it, but “someone” felt the need to mention it on Facebook and so now my entire extended family and even people I don’t know are talking about it. :facepalm:

The story begins as I ride down the hill from my house at the start of a quick 1.5-hour ride. As usual, I’m pumping in top gear to try to hit 40MPH. I became aware of a car approaching from behind while I was still on the flatter (25MPH) part of the hill, so I had shaded well to the right of the lane in case they wanted to pass me, even though the speed limit on this road is 25MPH. They hadn’t gotten too close by the time I approached the tight turn on the steepest part of the hill, but I strangely stayed right out at the fog line, although I was going faster at that point (39.7MPH according to my computer) than most people are willing to go. This was my first mistake.

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I’ve been going to a particular old-style barbershop for years and years now. I’ve moved several times since first finding it (and it moved once) and each one of these moves has put me farther away, but I keep going back every 4-6 weeks. I’ve tried going to one of those chain places that’s much closer to home (and quite a bit cheaper!), but I quickly grow tired of having to train each new “stylist” on how I like my simple haircut.

As this place isn’t anywhere near either work or home, getting to it during their business hours is a real challenge: They open at 7am but close at 5, Monday through Friday. Early in the day can be tough, what with traffic that time of day and having to wait my turn at the shop while missing work, so I typically go in the evening after work.

The other day, for example, I left work 2 hours earlier than I would’ve otherwise, with the commensurate loss of pay (I get paid by the hour) and arrived at 4:37, only to find the owner closing up shop so she could be ready for her VanPool that arrives at 5:05pm or thereabouts. I pointed out that my haircut only takes her about 15 minutes, but she complained that she needed the time to close the till, clean up, etc., and so I really needed to be there no later than 4:30.

That’s all well and good, but if you’re “open” until 5pm, you should stay open until 5, don’t'cha think? Hell, if you really need that 20 minutes to close things up, then you should… oh, I dunno, change your hours to say you close at 4:30. Yeah?

I am NOT happy about this (this isn’t the first time I’ve been bitten by their goofy hours, either) and so I tried a different place last night. It was a real change of pace from what I’m used to, and I have to start all over again with helping the barbers understand exactly what I want from my haircut, but it’s both cheaper AND closer to home.

People: If you’re a pedestrian in a parking lot or parking structure, please remember that you are a “guest” in another “creature’s” environment and, as such, should behave accordingly. This means, for example, that you DO NOT meander your way down a traffic lane, nor do you get pissy when I eventually grow tired of tailing you and honk politely to remind you to uncork your head from your ass.

For that matter, you DO NOT walk out from your car without looking, and you DO NOT let your young child run around like it’s a playground. Really, folks, it’s simple physics.

Oh, and drivers? Just because your car CAN go 0–60 in 3.5 seconds and CAN corner at up to 1.5Gs DOES NOT mean you should tear through said parking lot/parking structure as if you’re on an auto-cross course. Seriously, woah it up there, pardner. That awesome sale isn’t going to end in the new few minutes.

Okay, people, this one’s pretty simple: If we’re passing each other in a hallway and, in order to avoid a collision with you, I have to move so far to the side that my right shoulder is brushing the wall… yeah, you might want to consider hogging a little less of our common space. Schmucks.

Proving that poor taste and a thirst for self-deception know no age limits:

Some friends and I went to the SOVREN “Pacific Northwest Historics” vintage car races last week-end and a Bentley pulled in behind us in the parking area. Even with all the tech money floating around, Bentleys are fairly rare and you typically see one driving, not sitting still a few feet away. Eric and I, virtually at the same time, remarked that A) we weren’t all that impressed by it and B) it looked a lot like a Chrysler 300. We said all this quietly, though, as the man driving the car (and apparently in his 60s or 70s) was still in the car.

Returning to the car several hours later, but approaching the cars from behind, we noticed that… yes, it really WAS a Chrysler 300. How could we tell? Well, although it had a Bentley grille, Bentley emblem, and Bentley wheels, it also still had the Chrysler logo and “300″ on the rear deck lid. Yes, not only did this geezer attempt to fake a Chrysler into a Bentley, but he didn’t bother to finish the job.

Randy (Eric’s dad) wondered if maybe the guy bought it used and THOUGHT he had purchased a Bentley…

Since I haven’t done one of these in a while…

• If it takes more than two attempts to back your car into a parking space, maybe back-in parking is not for you.
• If it takes more than one attempt to drive a car into a nose-in parking space, maybe driving is not for you.
• If you signal a lane change in stop-and-go traffic and someone gaps you two car-lengths to help make it happen, but you don’t take the hint, don’t flash your high beams at them when they give up and pass you.

(All witnessed in the last week, although I see the second item WAY more than I would expect… or hope.)

Barry, one of the two people I share an office with, returned from a trip to the kitchen and expressed this quietly brilliant nugget of wisdom:

I just realized this place is like a casino: There are no clocks, it’s hard to find the exits, the drinks are free, and if you stay here long enough, you will lose all your money.

Okay, so this is probably fundamentally old news to just about everyone, and I’d bet my left… upper incisor that it’s been covered ad nauseam before, but I just noticed “Sara Lee’s” slogan on a truck the other day. Like a lot of people (according to the relevant Wikipedia entry), I’d always thought the slogan was “Nobody does it like Sara Lee,” but “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee” just makes my brain bleed.

Seriously?! That’s how you guys want to pimp your product? That’s not a slogan, it’s a frikkin’ grammar exercise.