Scooters don’t have a turn signal cancellation feature. It stays on until you notice it several blocks later. The rub is turning it off right after cornering is the situation most apt to be distracting. This is a prototype of turn signal alarm. Not shown is the IC that counts 10 blinks before the chime begins, and after 25 blinks, makes the chime progressively louder.
The real revelation of the photo is the advances in logistics, if you know what to look for. No flashlight batteries, but heavy duty lantern cells, professional prototyping board, all new components, safety diode (seen lit) and tight clean wiring. Too bad the real advance, the use of the IC, isn’t shown here.Those seven bolts on the scooter tire took me all day (13 hours). That includes 20 miles on the electric bike to the tire shop (there and back twice). Add an hour figuring out how a bushing fit, and the stop at BK for coffee. Otherwise, it was a good repair, saving roughly $80 in labor, but losing the $65 of non-budgeted expenses. How were we to know that 5,000 miles is considered high on a scooter tire?
What’s more, a third of the price of the scooter has been plowed into repairs at a third of the projected life span. An upper limit of 15,000 miles seems reasonable for this vehicle. The perfect upkeep is a matter of record, and it is still not going to last. A third of initial purchase price nine months ago has gone in to regular repairs and maintenance (starter, battery, bulbs, towing, oil, special tools, record keeping, and now the tire). It may have already served its purpose. But I love it and intend to keep it.
On the way back, who do I see but Pudding-Tat? She’s got the gallstone condition again. Nobody was around, but I looked across the way to inspect the old property. It has turned into a maintenance nightmare. Somebody tried to patch the roof instead of looking after the real problem which is the shifting foundation. This is easier to fix than the roof, but they would not listen. Look hard, Patsie, at what you’ve done.
Now my real problem is my office chair. It has a wonky design. No matter what article of clothing you hang over the back, it eventually catches on one of the casters. Isn’t this chair supposed to be an ergonomic design? What’s human-friendly about snagging trouser cuffs? I’ll think about that while designing some ads for the tire shop. True, I can’t make a living at that, but don’t overlook I am a past master on Craigslist.
Trivia time. Did you know there have been no new evolved species on Earth since the great die-off 65 million years ago? That’s correct. One of the leading arguments against evolution is that every life form alive today has descended from one that already existed in the age of the dinosaur. To me, that merely enforces the concept of a common ancestor. Maybe 65 million isn’t enough years for an effect to show up. Besides, a new species doesn’t necessarily have to represent a step forward. Look at your average guitar player, or an eastern Canadian.
It isn’t often I get weirded out, but I got a phone call from what could only have been the party selling that sidecar motorcycle. Except, I can’t be sure because it was one of those total paranoids with a compulsive need to check you out before they’ll state their business. That bottomless paranoia which stems from decades of dope-smoking. I say hello, and she demands to know my name and if I am a cop, she says, I sound like a cop. What? Lady, who are you and what do you want?
Whoever she was, she insisted on private information. I’ve been shopping around, so it hit me this must be about the sidecar. These are popular in France and at one point she did ask how I knew so much about mechanics. Ah-ha, I did send an email asking for the displacement of the motor. She had a French accent, but Euro French. And that total brain-rooted marijuana fear-suspicion complex. With the possible exception of Ken, the meat salesman, I haven’t encountered such a serious case since I left the phone company.
Later, I convinced it was the sidecar lady, so I called in some help to deal with her. I admit to limited ability and patience with morons. I’m okay with extremes but if working at the phone place taught me one thing, it’s that I can not tell the difference between half-stupid and half-crazy. They are so identical I’m lost, but pick the wrong condition and they get right antsy on you. Their tenuous hold on life is based on believing everyone else is in even worse shape than they are.
Later even still. For the first time in 27 months, bingo was a wipeout. Five people showed, so we closed ‘er up and all went home. This is congruent with downtown, which I pass through on the way. Deadsville. The only place hopping is Aventura Mall where the 1% shop. The traffic [there] was a mile deep when I went looking for a new hard drive. So here I am, at home on a Saturday night for the first time since I don’t know when. It has been several dozen years since I’ve been home both a Friday and Saturday consecutive.
So don’t misjudge the urgency of my guitar practice. I’m here in what seems like a strange house with the sense that the entire rest of the world is clubbing, and I should be there. On the stage, of course, not actually in the audience with the plebes. What a strange sense of nothingness. To think many people consider this natural. It’s been 45 minutes and I don’t like it already.
Last, here’s a thought. I know everybody has a complaint about some kind of computer screw-up. I suggest the fault is human, either the operator or the people who did the programming. My advice is that if you have any kind of advantage, keep it low-key. You never know when you’ll need to spring it as a surprise weapon. What brought this on? Good question. While I tend to keep things like the robotics club low-key, it is plain to many people that we are superbly organized. People are beginning to ask for favors. Time for a policy meeting over that one topic. We are a club, not a charity.
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