October 30, 2010

           Several times I’ve learned Morse Code in my life. But without an interesting partner to keep in practice, eventually you gradually forget it. That is what I miss most about Robynette, she was always willing to learn anything new and was outright supportive when she finally met a guy like me who admits he doesn’t know it all because I keep insisting on learning. There will never be another Robynette. I’ve certainly never met anything of her caliber in Florida.
           I was looking for software that allows code to be transmitted over the Internet, and I was looking for a club to join. I could not find either. I’ll look deeper, for it is impossible I am the only one who had such an idea. What I found was this home made telegraph shown here.
           This key and sounder are available as a kit from Makezine, but the $49 price tag quickly put me off. Two blocks of wood, a door hinge and a spring, everything else I’ve got sitting in the junk drawer. I am still in austere mode not spending a penny more than necessary. I’ve got a sneaking feeling I’ll be needing the extra cash for my lawyer buddy quite soon. Remember, if there is another confrontation, I will not settle out of court. Last time I did that, the other guy told people he “won”.
           Of all the bad luck, a guy swings open his gate without looking and knocked me off my bicycle on the way home last night. I have a bruised right forearm and lost my fancy sunglasses. We could not find them in the dark. I hit that wire gate at around six miles per hour. The guy was careless, for that lane is a clearly marked bicycle path.
           I spent the day in the library, the less than popular branch in Hallandale. Where they let people talk out loud and kids run wild. The libraries don’t get the message, they have huge rooms of books with nobody reading them, but only one tiny computer room with 16 computers scrunched together like those old sewing machine sweatshop photos. That room has a two-hour waiting list but they just don’t get it.
           Another look at the “pedal pub” shows that outside of the one expensive rig from Chicago, all others are homemade. Interestingly, the fine print of their liability waiver you must sign to ride contains the statement that you will not “build or cause to be built any vehicle of the same or similar construction”. Now that is precisely how you get me to take a second look at something.
           Dave-O says he can build it, including the gear train. I’ve only conducted mental research with nothing on paper. I’m inclined toward a smalerl ten-person version with the rear tires trailing instead of underfoot. That heavy wooden canopy has to go. I think something like canvas or tiki hut is more appropriate. Dave-O of course wants to haul it down to Key West and run it 24/7. But Key West already has those little train trolleys that snake all over town. Dave-O thinks Key West is paradise.
           One thing I’m fairly certain of is that the rig is a two man operation. Dave is pricing the materials but for the most part we have agreed on aluminum. I see the little tow hook at the front end. Dave has access to an industrial laser cutter if we need gears. It isn’t rocket surgery to figure out the people across from each other would pedal in opposite directions and other less obvious features that seem up to me to notice.
           Last, I had a heated discussion with Eddie, the guitarist. He is miffed because, get this, in my band the guitarist isn’t the star of the show. To me that just shows how deeply the typical American guitar player psyche is ingrained with self-worship. I never gave the matter a second thought. I reminded him that it was, after all, my show, and I have every right to be the star if it so pleases me. He’s the guitarist I let go last autumn because he wanted to join my band yet play only his music. It don’t work that way.