October 10, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 10, 2015, a desirable spin-off.
Five years ago today: October 10, 2011, I built this.
Nine years ago today: October 10, 2007, Florida’s “detrailerization” program.
Random years ago today: October 10, 2013, analog brake & signal lights.

MORNING
           A travel day with a late start. The new motorcycle tire arrived three hours late. I left south Miami at 7:00 to arrive at 8:00 in Hallandale Beach. You have to get on the road early to make that twenty-mile trip in under an hour, then I was stranded until the afternoon. I had to abandon my plans of a leisurely return through the back roads north of Naples and had to burn up I-95 due to some looming rain clouds to the east. I took the standard high-speed route. To exit 87B, then through Indiantown to Okeechobee.

           Where I stopped and got some photos of that coin machine for Agt. R. That was quite the trip for all the rollover accidents along the say. The roads are long since dry and you know my opinion of single-vehicle accidents, right? There was semi-trailer on its side east of Okeechobee, but too many cops around to take you a picture. Too bad, it was a classic, the truck lying like a toy on the grass. The driver tried to take that weird Okeechobee corner too darn fast.

           Instead, here’s a close-up of the coin counter setting lever. That’s correct, a counter. Upon inspection it only counts, it does not separate. Nor does it fill tubes. It is designed to bag coins, like those canvas sacks you see in the old movies when coins were still worth something. The old guy started it up for me. It must make quite the racket when the hopper is full. Of sorted coins. It is also a large machine, where a coin sorter will sit on a countertop.

           Look at this other picture and you can figure out most of the works. The hopper on top feeds the coins into the port. You can see the electric motor that runs a belt beneath the guard. The small wheel at front is a tension pulley that is used to turn the mechanism backward to clear jams. Indicating that such events are common?

           That coin setting switch, on closer inspection, shows the marks are arranged by coin size. So the thing probably works on tension rather than centrifugal force. The canvas bag sits in that tray on the lower left. Nobody remembered what the rack along the front was for. I noted there are the same number of round holes as setting for the coins. That means missing parts.
           And I do not think the old guy will budge on the $400 price tag. It’s been there for years already. He only gave me a few dollars off on my band saw, which reminds me, tomorrow I get that set up. I miss my hobby.

Picture of the day.
Lightning strike damage.
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NOON
           You can blow this picture up if you want to read the fine print, but it is a container of an unfinished eyeglass lens. I got more information out of one shop in the Dadeland Mall than I could find anywhere online. Thanks, lady. I came this close to asking you out but it was the way you never smiled. Amyway, this package contains a single large round lens. It is poured plastic over a mould that creates the correct curvature or (I think) diopter. The point for me is that I looked through the weakest lens made and it completely corrected my vision.

           I’ll further research this lens. It is about three inches in diameter and I see now that the optical lab cuts and edges this piece to the shape that fits into your eyeglass frame. I saw nothing that would challenge a determined copycat lensmaker. The lady balked at saying where she received such supplies, but if you read the label, it says “Distributed by Shore Lens Co, Inc., Northvale, NJ”. That’s enough to get my investigation underway. Somebody somewhere is going to sell me the right parts.

           I averaged 65 mph on the return trip, so I had time to stop for corn dogs in north Okeechobee. Except for these meals on wheels, I still have not eaten in a restaurant in my new home town. I was in that shop when I heard the staff trying to give directions to a tourist. What a joke that was. How is a tourist supposed to know where Highways 27, 98, and 17 are? I followed him outside, pointed, and said go 30 miles straight down that road until you get to a four-way flashing light. He looked at me like I was pure raw genius before I told him that’s because I wasn’t from Florida.

NIGHT
           I’m home and sitting back with a big mug of home-made chicken stew. This is my first winter away from south Florida since the last century. That’s right, I arrived here in late 1999 and would normally have left 13 years ago. The delay made me old and nearly wiped me out financially. So, here is a shot of the batbike sitting in JZ’s otherwise empty parking spot y’day morning.

           See the construction fence? The whole Snapper Creek area is full of unsold condo developments and they are still building more. That’s unsold except for drug dealers who have bought all the studio and one-bedroom units to the far west of the complexes, nearest the night time crime capital of Florida, Dadeland Mall. JZ and I walked through there earlier last week. The shop merchandise is plainly completely out of context to the people who work or live in that part of town.

           JZ has an interesting theory on that. It goes that if you have money, you shop at Saks, if you have less money, you shop at Marcus. If you can’t afford that, you get the same products at Penny’s. And if you are a broke schmeeb, you pick up the identical goods at Target. Makes sense. What’s more, I do not like those new stand-up Starbucks outlets. I think it the habit of pigs people who walk around slurping a coffee. These Starbucks kiosks will tend to wipe out what few traditional sit-down spots left in town.
           Please, somebody open a chain that is nothing but stools along a counter with computer plugs along the wall. And serve one free refill at least. And only hire the very youngest sexiest local girls to serve it. Better still, let me be the judge of that. You'll be richer than imaginable.


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