September 1, 2012

           Top billing today is one of the strangest sights I’ve seen. It is a closed down tombstone plant. Whatever happened was sudden enough that half-finished gravestones were left strewn in the front yard, where the weeds have taken over. Are you thinking the same thing, a “tombstone graveyard”. I should submit this to one of those captioning contests. My submission is, “I guess business wasn’t dead enough.”
           The performance of the batbike is recorded more accurately now. On the freeway, the best mileage I got was 35.02 mpg, and in town, it falls to 28.35 mpg. This is comparable to my 1985 Cadillac. But I would not trade, that is where the comparison ends. There is nothing like the sidecar.

           And the sidecar is going to get better, I stopped in at Extreme Hitch to get a quote for a trailer hitch. A top notch job estimate of $319 is to my liking. The last hitch I had cost me $220 nine years ago. The proprietor was impressed by the sidecar setup and said he welcomed the custom job.
           Next, I was at the library reading up on some intermediate level robotics, a lot of egghead stuff on the how and why of robot behavior, tracks versus wheels, and finer elements such as today’s trivia. On average, your robot wheel can climb over objects that are a third the total height of the wheel. It can go over at the sacrifice of battery power. Tracks, both in complexity and price, are not being considered. I found a fascinating robot built without a microchip, you’ll want to know this.

           It was a tail-dragger, that means two wheels on an axle and a non-powered caster that followed along. Each wheel had its own motor, which turned at the same speed until a relay sensor detected an obstacle. Then, both wheels would reverse, but using ordinary resistor capacitor pairs, one wheel ran a little longer, thus turning the robot. Then after a stop, it would move forward again and repeat this process. I also found out that robots that turn in an arc rather than at right angles will navigate by a shorter path.
           As a reward for this study (around four hours and twelve different books), I went to Harbor Freight, and in an astonishing aberration, got out of there spending less than $20. I kept the receipt, but I have no idea how I managed that. All kinds of neat stuff was on sale and that is like a candy store for men.

           On the way back, I stopped at Sheabeen’s to discover they don’t have entertainment on Labor Day weekend, the only time in the year they don’t. They say business is so bad, and the place was empty. Actually, the whole town was quiet for a holiday weekend. There must be some explanation, maybe a fair or who knows. I took the evening off and read real estate material. There’s a forty acre farm for sale for $68,000 not too far away. The operation is bankrupt, but I have no intention of farming, I would let the forty acres be and get myself a log cabin. A pre-built I mean.
           Another book caught my eye, an extensive work on “people without a history”, referring to the countless masses that went to work for wages as the world, led by Britain, became industrialized. It’s a new perspective, as it looks at how the function of the new factories and transportation caused the disruption of traditional family activities. Before the changes, they say and I had never thought much about it, that every community was a self-sufficient as possible. That makes sense, because travel was so difficult.

           The example given is the American south. Due to cotton, railroads, and steamships, it became precariously dependent on outside support. Food came from the west, the cotton went out to factories in the north by rail, or to the English mills. Thus, a strike, a drought, a storm long distances away could impact the local labor market. Business became dominated by large industrial concerns and commodities could not be cheaply moved to distant factories or markets. The book covers cocoa, palm oil, cotton, opium, coffee, tea, and the plantation system needed to operate these elaborate farms, as profits can only be made when these products are moved in huge volumes.
           Here's a dude I met walking a mountain road as I skirted past Boulder. He was going to meet up his girlfriend for a trip to Yosemite. For the lift, he bought me a coffee in the "Pioneer Inn" in a little mountain town I forget already. Nederlands, that's it. I can now say I drove through the Nederlands on my sidecar. He's lived through a few of the winters and we talked about real estate. Prices are still outrageous. He reports last winter was so cold he burned eleven and a half cords of wood. At least like me, he didn't have to go chop it himself. He's a food server and never rode a sidecar before. Yeah, pal, that goes for lots, so here you are, immortalized in print.

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August 31, 2012

           Ah, the first Labor Day weekend in my life without a care in the world. How long can it last? Even the garage sales are better in Colorado. Less junk, you might say. It says a lot about the intellect of a neighborhood when I can pick up a professional set of ringhead bow pencils for a buck, and the lady said a half hour earlier a man got an entire set of map-making tools, all solid brass and wrapped in velvet, for five bucks. Collector’s items.
           Here’s a photo of my haul that cost $3.20. Yep, that original set of United Airlines playing cards, back when such things were often free. See the gold tinted aviator shades? And my wooden handled screwdriver? Mine, all mine.

           [Author's note 2017: the beautiful aviator glasses fell off my motorcycle on a trip to Neversummer a few weeks later.]

           Boy, did I pick the right place for some custom work on the batbike (don’t tell Marion I called it that, she wants it to have a girl name). It’s called “Extreme Hitch” and the first thing the guy said was that motorcycle was “pretty fantastic”. That’s the kind of outfit I want for custom work. I have a written estimate for a trailer hitch and depending on finances in the next four days, I don’t think I could get a better quality job done.
           I had concluded my motorcycle headlight had been installed upside down. Upon dismantling the entire assembly, I see that Sarasota had micky-moused all the major parts. The bracket held the retaining ring wrongly and the filament hood (the little metal shield inside the bulb that directs low beam downward) were a mismatched set. An hour of twisting metal and bending tabs got it shining the right way. The hitch shop, if from what I saw, should have no trouble fabricating the new faring brace.

           This morning I took yet another bike path through a creek area. Denver has really preserved the setting along these waterways. The flora is left natural for a hundred yards on either bank and every half mile seems to find a park or picnic area. If you want tenements built right up to a stagnant ditch, you could visit any of the “rivers” that flow through Miami. For those who like politics, explain why both Colorado and Florida have water shortages in the summer. (Hint: the reasons are polar opposites, Florida is, how to put this, drowning in water.)
           Before I forget, I won some microscope slides in a bet. The sale ladies had a hand sized gadget that nobody could identify. To me it looked like a fancy vice grip, but too elegantly chromed and detailed for that. I wagered if they let me take it out of the box, I’d figure it out. I almost lost, as it had no brand name or identifying marks. But I noticed a tiny set screw, like the kind on eyeglass hinges. Ah, then a 4” strip of that cellophane typewriter ribbon used on IBM Selectrics that appeared to be in the box by mistake. Oho, a tiny but dried up bottle of fingernail polish. I got it from just that, no other clues than seeing it, but seeing it won’t help. I got it. Can you?

           It was a golf ball monogrammer. The plastic casing of the box turned out to be alphabet letters once we knew what to look for. They were meant to be punched out of the case, like model airplane parts, except these looked like sets of false teeth. You put the letters in the grip, secure with the tiny screw, stamp the golf ball, and when the ink dries, coat it with clear polish. QED. Sorry, no photo. I forgot the camera on the way to morning coffee, where I read more Ann Coulter. The lady certainly has an education I admire, though that does not extend to how she uses it. The intellectual content of her writing totals zero percent. Most of the people she insults I have never heard of. But the fact they are actors, senators, and the like betray how different our environments must be.
           I don’t think I will ever become educated enough to care who won an Oscar or the sordid details of how this is done by today’s talentless women, nor ever be paid enough to give a bleeding hoot which president falsely claimed to be Jewish. Yet here is a woman so far more educated than I, dare I say if I’d had a fraction of the resources poured into her schooling, I would by now likely be one her targets. To Coulter, the lies people tell to get elected are such real concerns that she is moved to publish 300 page books on the matter. I accede to her superior knowledge in those realms. (Though I wonder if she can play bass, wire up a transistor, or tell me what a mercaptan does.) I would like to meet the woman some day, for I do not question the clarity of her brainwaves once she latches on to something.

           Today’s novelty is this bed frame built from 6” PVC. I gave it a rap and it is pretty darn solid. When I think of pipe furniture, I envision patio chairs, so this rather massive oddity gets my daily award for first time actually seeing something of the kind. I didn’t get the price. It was in the Goodwill at Chambers and Iliff, where I went on the suggestion of Marion’s neighbor.
           It was late afternoon by the time I crossed back into Aurora. So I went to an afternoon matinee at the Movie Tavern, deciding on “The Expendables 2”. Golly gosh, my generation of actors is getting up there and the half-shaven Karate-types trying to replace them are about as cookie-cutter as they come. The movie theme is completely worn out, wrung out, and hung out to dry. But lots of guts and gore, none of the Hollywood bloodless, curseless deaths of yore. The renegade Ruskies are still terrible shots and I’ll spoil one scene for you, but it isn’t really crucial to the plot.

           The team finds an American town in the middle of Russia. Right down to the coke machines and jukeboxes. I say what a clever budget-minded idea for the producers. The explanation is it was a mock-up used by the Red Army to practice for their invasion of America. We’ll assume they invaded east LA.
           It was the whole enchilada for me. Movie Tavern has a real tavern out front and inside the theatres, every chair has a table for two facing the silver screen. It is licensed, I went for the coffee and my traditional first meal at a new location, a hamburger deluxe. You eat in the dark, there is a small button to summon a server, but I had all I needed. The food is medium-good, a little pricey, but you are paying for the atmosphere which can hardly be beat if you are, like myself, a die hard movie fan.
           They did get me for a total of $19.15, so next time I’ll avoid the $9.00 burger and just go for the $2.50 coffee, which was excellent I add. Better than Starbucks.

ADDENDUM
           I’m often asked how one learns so much about computers. It is a lengthy process of trial and error, mostly error, and never taking no for an answer. I won’t sugar-coat the frustration, but I have some unexpected good news from the second day of my trip. The one where I lost some primo photos because I forgot to put the SD card back in the camera. Well, I have news.

           Although the camera states it has no internal memory, it must. Somehow, I recaptured the lost 24 photos. This is double-eerie, since there is no margin for error, I had to stop at the roadside, dig out my knapsack, take out the card, and place it in the camera. But lookie here, this is one of the snapshots. This is the rainstorm I hit in north Florida, where I quickly doubled back and ducked under the canopy of this abandoned roadside store. About two miles south of Jaspar, FL.
           The building was so decrepit the rain was causing chunks of the asphalt shingles to slide off the roof just inches ahead of my front tire. If it had been windy as well, I’d have cleared out fast.

           How did I get these off a camera without memory? I don’t know, but I’ll tell you what I did differently. I normally take the SD card out and transfer the day’s shots to a permanent computer. That’s how I managed to forget to put it back. But this time, I took the “memoryless” camera and plugged it into a USB port to recharge at the same time. So, the camera and the SD card were simultaneously plugged into separate USB ports. Surprise, there must be internal memory in that camera, and here is the pudding. I believe that is called serendipity.

           [Author's note: Update September 2013: It transpires that these cameras do have a limited internal memory, generally around 26 photos. That is comparable to a roll of 35mm film, the most popular consumer size in the past. I emphasize that this memory is not mentioned in the documentation and no, it is not an intuitive feature for most people. Nor am I happy that this memory disappears when an external card is inserted. Building things that way is just plain stupid no matter who you are.]

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August 30, 2012

           This is what you get by taking a new route for morning coffee every other day. Here is the most fantastic train set I’ve ever seen. It spans the entire back yard of a retired electric employee along the river walk. This is outdoors, folks, and you can see the early sunshine. The entire scene includes tunnels, a safari setting, and is controlled from inside a backyard gazebo. Originally vines blocked the view, but one year after trimming, the neighbors banded together and convinced him to leave the yard in view.
           The creator is working on a roundhouse, as the trains are steam models. They were not running today so I’m not sure. He estimates the project spans some 17 years in his spare time. A roundhouse is the name of the repair sheds for steam locomotives, which entirely by coincidence I was reading up on a week or so back. I’ll keep an eye out, as he posts the train schedule in advance.

           I followed the river walk by eBike several miles south (to Quince) for a twelve mile ride this morning. This is possible by nursing the battery along in third gear (of seven) ever so gently up the rises. Every person I passed on the path said, “Good morning.” Sadly, when that phrase is translated into Floridian, it can only be spoken by magazine subscription salespeople, conspicuously overdressed in the tropical sun and suffering from perma-grin. The kind I like to tell, “Don’t under-think the situation.”
           The afternoon I spent gathering parts for my blinker signal, and noting the headlight on the motorcycle is installed badly. The original bolted to the handlebars, but this one is in the faring, and seems to be upside down. Then I parked in the shade and traced out all the wiring back to the harness. So now I know how each wire gets there, no mean feat on that apparatus. It took only moments to spot the Radio Shacks out here have the same inventory problems in the component drawers. Tons of junk, but the parts you want are sold out and never reordered.

           Thank goodness I showed up for open mic at Sheabeen’s or I’d be in a real sour mood. By now, I’ve “rehearsed” (on stage) with the band and the sound balance was superb. Having all professionals helps immensely. Alas, it was good news bad news. The guy that offered the job called in sick. Bronchitis is making the Colorado rounds. Two guys on stage had it. I’ve played less than a total of two hours, including tonight, so imagine my thoughts when people walked in and implored me to play. Since they were not present last week, it must be the result of what they call reputation.
           Once again, the best songs were the ones I knew and the worst were obscure, possibly “originals” with even obscurer chords and chord patterns. Even my comping, which I cannot do, brought compliments from unexpected sources, like the bartender (who said he’s hired this show for eight years, so he’s seen most of it if not it all.) In the big picture, I’m damn satisfied with how it went, including the four numbers I sang. Me, fronting a band in Colorado, if only for a few songs. Who’d a thunk it even six months ago? Certainly not a number of people whose names I won’t state here.

           I found a set of Jenga blocks, the ones Jimbo’s uses for free drinks. I know it is some kind of game, but that’s all. I see them as model aids, motorcycle repair jigs, and holders for small electronics projects. Here is how I arranged them on the downstairs table. Please forgive any inaccuracies, I have never done this before and the arrangement is entirely from memory.

           Last, I have plenty to think about and practice. Some of the music I know, but it has been years since I ran through it (“Lovin’ Her Was Easier” and “Smoke, Smoke, Smoke”). But tonight was the second time in a row I delivered the wow, so that rules out coincidence. At least this will be no rush decision because I’ve got weeks to make up my mind. Driving home at 1:15 AM, I had to cross a river valley and that reminded me of what cold is like.
           Mr. Frost says this is a winter town, that the pubs are packing in the winter. That doesn’t make sense, as we are miles from the ski resorts and who would visit here except in the summertime? I think I’m about to find out the answer. I brought only the barest equipment, that is, bass, tuner, and cable. This mini-computer isn’t helping either, especially MicroSoft who never did understand the “now” part of “end now”. And I also found out that Colorado banks will not hypothecate pensions. That means for accommodation, I can buy only what I can afford cash, which also means nothing until next year.

ADDENDUM
           I read the business section of the local paper today. I really don’t think the current depression has punched the wind out of Colorado yet. I know that like smallpox, it takes a while for the eastern dry rot to reach the other end of the country and I don’t think the impact has really been felt yet out this far.
           However, I would like to make it clear on this issue that I am not on anybody’s side but my own. To my eyes, the trouble out there is the entire middle-class and the debt they plunged into. It is one instance I believe their elected politicians really did represent them—in greed, self-delusion, and ducking personal responsibility. Why? Because the collapse of traditional America was brought about by debt, and can be traced in every meaningful instance to stupid debt.

           And no, they cannot avoid the blame by pointing fingers. They, or their agents, borrowed the money. It was not the poor, they can’t borrow. It was not the rich, they needn’t borrow. It was you middle-class big shots all the way, and now it is payback time. Let’s look at the option you don’t want to see.
           Traditional media says there are three ways out, I say there are four. In a moment we’ll talk likelihood, but first a review. To pay the debts, Washington could borrow money, but they can’t borrow much more. They could raise taxes, but what did I just say about personal responsibility. Would any middle-class readers out there vote for higher taxes? Or the Fed could print more worthless money, which they can do thanks to middle-class complacency.

           But I say there is a fourth option, and one that will happen fast. The entire middle-class will be brought down to the level of their true worth. Inflation will help along, though even the inflated dollars they will try to borrow to preserve their “lifestyle” will be harder to come by. Don’t look at me; I have always lived within my means. I never had a $600 lawn mower, but what the hell? As soon as they get hungry, I can have theirs for five cents on the dollar.

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August 29, 2012

         Here is one of the unexplained models at the Da Vinci show. It is a model bridge about two feet long. I know the guy worked for military patrons and this is typical of his work. I could not research it. The library I use goes into “self-serve” mode two hours before closing, something nobody would chance in Florida. The carpets would disappear.
         Ben, Marion's dog, has a reprieve. To give him a real bath, we need a kiddy pool and Ace is sold out. The plan for today was to stay at home, much as I’d like to visit the Movie Tavern and find out their format. Like, how can Marion get around in the place? My system says stay home and relax, so I’ll toss a coin later. Let’s talk about the reading material I bought concerning nanotechnology. It is hard to find books that aren’t too advanced to follow.

         What I’ve got focuses on matters such as quantum computing and smart materials. I’d be more interesting in the equipment needed as well as how to operate same. In layman’s terms, quantum computing uses the fact that an electron has either a positive or negative spit (called +1/2 and -1/2 for any budding physicists out there). The major problem of this arrangement is that the spin stops the instant you try to measure it.
         Thus, the research is all on ways to “read” the spin by light waves or by inference. As ever, the impetus behind quantum computing is so that the authorities want read encrypted e-mail. I wonder why? The US government does not recognize privacy as a fundamental human right. (Other governments including communist China and socialist Canada already treat individuals to seek privacy as felons, so the US is still the free-est. I made that word up.)

         Another nanoscopic approach is using DNA for data storage. While DNA computers are still far-fetched, the idea of biochemical memory has already been demonstrated. But just like in living species, errors occur too often to produce reliable results. Missing was any mention of errors that have positive outcomes (often called mutations). Hey, I’m just saying that such things happen and I wonder why, in the labs and for reasons unknown, hey have not said a word [about mutations, only problems] since day one.
         So that nobody thinks my peek at nanoscience has diminished my self-learning of electronics, here is my notebook from y’day. This is a design (based on several existing schematics from the Aurora library) for a beeper to remind me to cancel a turn signal on the motorcycle. This is a constant problem, as the only indicator blinking dash lights which wash out in the sunlight. This design is far more advanced than the simple buzzer mounted on the red scooter.

         This model waits around 15 seconds after the light has been blinking before making any noise. Both the timing and volume are adjustable. And touching the brake restarts the timer, an ordinary 555 chip. The design is very rugged, using only one chip, one transistor and one MOSFET (specialized transistor). It taps entirely off the fuze box.
         My curiosity about nanoscience has little to do with the off-shoots of quantum and DNA. I am far more intrigued by smart materials. So far the commercial application of nanotubes seems to be tennis rackets, but consider that material that never gets wet. It is a spray-on layer that water cannot even stick to, called hydrophobic. None of the available ads will say how durable the spray is, or what happens when liquids other than water-based are applied. Still, I’d like some that works on my windshield.

         Nanoscience could produce real self-sealing tires, or hospital walls that automatically kill bacteria, and more importantly, viruses. While I accept that much of this research would be tightly kept business secrets, I’d like some openness about the part taking place in publicly funded universities and such. Take a look at this nanovideo or if you’re more daring, got to whatisnano.org.
         So what did I learn new today? Nano is actually the Greek word for “dwarf”, now taken to be the fraction one-billionth. That’s 1/1,000,000,000 and a damn small amount of anything on Earth. And one of the biggest [USA} objections to nanotechnology is, go figure, that those with the know-how can build designer drugs. Both the drugs and the stance of the government are a sad and telling commentary on how far out of touch Washington has become. I say it again: Prohibition does not work.

         Since the connection is not easy to understand, think of it this way. If you and I had a printer, like the type described here recently, in which we could punch a button and molecularly build anything we wanted, it would greatly upset society. Particularly vulnerable for the first time, and finally at last, would be the traditional high-priced help. Why would I pay a doctor if I had qbots that would seek and destroy any disease in my body? Who (I ask Sony) would spend 2/3 the price of a new camera for a battery that could be synthesized for pennies? There is also the cry about marginalization, but we’ve all heard that song before. If you are such a deadbeat your job can be done by a machine, you had it coming.
         For anyone stumped by the term, “marginalization”, it refers to people whose “jobs” become obsolete by each new round of technology they can’t afford. Well, the fact is, they probably don’t understand it, either, so why blame the invention? Those affected most are not the class of society known for innovation or creation, but rather blind consumption. In other words, the maggots, who will always be present no matter what. They will sink to the lowest levels of existence no matter who helps them and the world knows that by now. I would welcome anything that frees me from dependence on American factories and their overpaid staff and their bloated executive salaries.

         And just you watch how the factories try to prevent or restrict home ownership of nano-factories by patenting everything they can before it catches on. One outfit is trying to patent a process whereby you download their “formula” and are allowed to print a certain amount of toilet paper before the formula expires. I dislike this, because it is not a new idea, but the capitalization of a new process using ancient restrictive practices. I did not look it up, but I got $10 that says the idea originated in the Atlantic northeast, the place I call New Vermichohiganois. Where they claim your best interests but have an 80 year history of doing nothing except tweaking the system in their own favor.
         Another annoyance is National Geographic, which I will never forgive for ceasing their photography of bare-breasted young women. I understand the editor’s need for material that sells, but they glamorize far too many useless jocks risking their useless necks for no scientific reason. (Oh boy, another pointless trek across the pole.) Nor do I care for their championing activists whose real agenda is preserving the very same wilderness where they just happen to live. But now, NG has taken to portraying Mormon polygamists as bad—but only the men are evil, never the women stupid enough to marry them.

         [Author’s note: The condition of monogamy for initiation to the Union was not religious-based, but insisted upon by tax (inheritance) lawyers camouflaging it as Christianity. Not that many monogamists in the Bible when you get right down to it.]

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August 28, 2012

         What a treat, the Da Vinci exhibit in downtown Denver, Colorado. It wasn’t all roses today, but you should stroll the 16th Street Mall when you visit. I didn’t [visit the mall] but that is another story. Here’s a sparking gal on a sparkling Honda, ready for the big ride downtown. Yes, that is a wheelchair strapped on the back of the sidecar. We ain’t runnin’ no two-bit rodeo over here. To think, just think, of the number of women who could be in that sidecar and in the end it was my best friend after 30 years.
         It took us 7-1/2 hours to get downtown and we arrived at 5:25, a mere 35 minutes before the exhibit closed. That gave us time to breeze past each model just once. However, that is a story for another time. The show was impressive, featuring every major item that old Leonardo invented or investigated, and about another 15 he didn’t. Like the Archimedes screw and the perpetual motion wheel.

         Myself, I did not have a great time and I may describe the reasons later. I would have preferred to examine the models in great detail, a wonderment of how Da Vinci could think so far around his situation. Nothing in the show is inherently complicated or difficult, he was gifted in looking at alternatives to the largely grunt physical labor of the day. Who would want to build a machine or robot when the nation can hire a thousand immigrants to build the same tower for less?
         I was intrigued by the flight models and again by his bridges. Yet you can see that by far the most advanced of his designs involved war machines. Double-hulled boats, trebuchets, machines to make more weapons. Don’t confuse advanced with complicated. Here is the model of his human-powered flyer. Most of the exhibits, billed as interactive, had stickers not to operate. It seems too many scout troupes or something had passed through and worn out most of the gear teeth.
         If you are expecting anything fantastic, too bad. These are general reconstructions of what Leo might have done if the metal and engine technology was available. Most of his inventions were or seem the result of watching thousands of others do things the hard way. (We have the identical situation in Florida today. As long as there are throngs of the uneducated willing to labor for minimum wage and welfare for the unwilling, there is no need to invest in expensive mechanisms.)

         Each display had a brief explanation, though the language was geared lower than most of Leo’s machines. If time had permitted, I would have paused for deep thought in front of the majority of the machines. Otherwise, the show was more entertaining than thought provoking. Maybe I’ll see it again before I leave, as the show was extended past month’s-end, the guy said December.
         There is a street mall downtown, called the 16th Street Mall. It is also worth a look, if you can find a spot (hint, drive a block either side of the mall and you’ll find parking at half the price). The area is dressed up, lots of flowers and something I’ve never done, horse drawn carriages. There are free buses both directions, though it is hard to find the stops because the signs look like advertising.
         I’ve been in Florida so long, I forget what it is like to shop in an upscale grocery. Sure, I mentioned Publix is picking up, but they’ve got a long ways to catch up to an Aurora Safeway. Winn/Dixie, meet the competition. Safeway has a display table up front with all the articles on sale and which aisle to find them in, aisles wide enough that one fat lady can’t block it (though nothing will ever stop them from trying). The selection of food is far less working class and even the shopping carts sport a cup holder. You can find three to four times the variety of imported food. Here is the famous One Chip For Mankind.

         Not only that, the day was clear enough to see mountains to the southwest, very distant mind you. I still haven’t got up close to one yet, the snow covered peaks I like to look at but not climb. That’s one “sport” I rank right up there with belching contests for its sheer contribution to society. But maybe next week, as I am still adjusting to once again being broke at month’s end. That hasn’t happened since I worked for a living.
         I talked to Guitar Eddie last evening. I ass dialed him in a saloon in North Carolina and could hear somebody yelling “Hello” until I figured it was coming from my pocket. That’s an eerie experience on a motorcycle. He’s got kin just across from the Georgia border so he’s livin’ large. He’s definitely quit smoking. And he’s heard of Dick Frost. Eddie was surprised I finally made it. Me too, Eddie.

         Marion warned about the summer drought and I felt it. Dry or not, midday is uncomfortable, so I’ve taken to a siesta and reading. Reading means trivia. Recall my mention of how little of our total electricity can be provided by windmills? I discovered that 1910 was the top year for US windmill sales. Mainly to pull water out of the prairie aquifers, the industry in that year employed 20,000.
         I was looking for something else about windmills. Why are they so inefficient? Why do modern specimens look suspiciously like Holland 500 years back and rock carvings in Mesopotamia 2,000 years ago? The formulas were hard to follow, but I dig that the blade tips set the maximum speed which must always be slower than the wind. The fastest wind in a given area (not including storms) is nine to ten times the yearly average speed.
         Wait, there’s more. In a vertical shaft windmill, think anemometer, the returning blade or fin has to turn against the wind, so they are even less efficient. Thus, I make a prediction. The next breakthrough will not be in windmill design, but some means of funneling the wind onto the working part of the fan, or sheltering the non-working areas. I saw an ancient drawing of a windmill housed in a stone shed with windows that could be opened to admit wind in such a fashion. Why has this never been pursued?\

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August 27, 2012

         Today's an anniversary, read below. If I didn’t mention, on the trip here, I had to utilize the reserve gasoline (of about one gallon) on seven different occasions. That is an empirical tradeoff to the number of convenient gas stations and the smaller motorcycle range (180 miles). Here is a rare shot of heavyset me strolling past the Chiltons. Hey, not near as heavy as two years ago, when I was surrounded and under siege. I’ve found a trailer hitch shop that does metal work up on Quebec and Iliff. I want a cup holder attached to the sidecar. I had to pull over too many times for liquids crossing the central plains.
         Let’s talk money a bit. I’m saying the remainder of the month may not be as adventuresome, since unlike the highly educated leaders in Washington, I have to make up the 23% budget shortfall by the 31st. I never carry anything over because that’s plain stupid behavior. Fiscal responsibility lets me occasionally take the trip of a lifetime instead of, well, let’s not mention Wallace and Patsie at this juncture. They are so busy fighting for their principles that they have no time to live up to them.

         I’ve done some in-depth research into the sidecar. We are still trying to find something convenient to call it, but Uralhonda and such are awkward. (I'd prefer to call it the BatBike.) For now, it is the Hondural, enough Spanish-sounding to placate anyone at the convention in Florida. The one I hope the hurricane sneaks back and does an Andrew on the lot of them. Generally, I tried to find the items I can do myself to prolong the life of the motorcycle. The electrical system seems to consist of 28 wires, this sort of thing.
         Alaine called early this morning. My correspondence is arriving [back in Florida] and there are many people who know how long my planning for this trip goes back. So these postcards are their first indication that the real thing is underway. Since I was at the library, you trivia for today is that if all the available good wind sites in the entire world were used to generate electricity, it would supply only 3% of the daily American demand. That is not necessarily a bad thing.
         Here is a river valley a few blocks west of here, with a trail that according to Marion one can walk all the way to Denver. Why, if I was my mental age. To the copyright violators out there, keep in mind just because these photos are not watermarked, most or all of them contain something that only I can identify. But if it makes you feel any better, the big corporations that shut down Napster and Limewire for stealing music turned right around and “co-opted” the same distribution software for their own usage. If you are big business, co-opting is not the same as stealing, God bless ‘em.

         I’ve decided to read a deeper book on nanotechnology, since that topic seems to have disappeared from the news over the past six months. I was expecting a breakthrough by now, and let me explain why. This was not some random prediction, but those familiar with Moore’s law (that the number of transistors on a chip doubles every 18 months) means that these devices should have been down to nano size by around 18 months ago. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think? Why has nothing much happened in that time?
         My new book may have the answer. What Moore did not consider is the cost of tooling up. As the size goes down, the cost of the factory to produce the chips goes up, and the cost of a single factory is now in the billions. That’s enough to make anyone think twice if the equipment is obsolete in a year and a half. The significance of nano size is that is the realm where Newtonian physics begins to fail and quantum physics takes over. There is no easy way to visualize or understand quantum theory, but I know that if was to invest in nano anything, I’d want [the plant & equipment] to last more than a year and a half.

         I’ve been reading more Ann Coulter, as well. We’d get along well, though she moves in entirely different circles that I do. Or you could just say she knows lots of politicians, same thing. She tends to point out their past mistakes, which cannot be changed. I am more likely to point out their personal defects, which it is theoretically possible to modify. Although her writing lacks even a primordial shred of the hard sciences, not a hint of logical or mechanical abilities, and no evidence of practical cerebral activity, I’d still like to meet her. Then again, I’ve always liked, if they were sexy enough, bitchy women. The five I dated in Florida missed the sexy part.
         In what is acceptable vindication for me, I found the last two Honda key blanks without any Internet bull crap or becomeing a member. The Ace hardware on Iliff and Buckley had ‘em, and they cost eight bucks, a savings of around $30 over factory Honda pricing. This was a real success, as the keys are a rare left-handed size. I also looked at the chip keys, the ones that need the code to start your car. They are $70 each at Ace, twice that at the dealership. I’ve never considered such expensive technology to be an improvement.
         So, here I am, the Honda back in shape after another round of upgrades, and poised for a day trip through the mountains before month’s end. According to my detractors, this can’t be happening, see, because I don’t think like they do. If I did, why I’d pay them $1200 a month rent for a room in a trailer in a town where I could get a mortgage for half that, and I’d also pay their bills so they could quit their job at Pizza Hut and watch soap operas all day long, except when gossiping on the phone. If I want any adventure in this life, I better clean up my act, they said. Oops, too late. August 27, 2010, is the day I fired the last two peasants (pissants) out of my life.
         Bwaaaaa-ha-ha!

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August 26, 2012

           A moment’s silence for Neil Armstrong, who passed away y’day from heart complications. I admired his reserve and that he didn’t brag or go into politics. He’ll be upstaged by a successful Mars journey, but he’s first in my books. He deserved to see the Mars visit but NASA got too busy lifting housewives, school teachers and foreign nationals into low Earth orbit over the last 50 years when they should have pressed on to the next logical destination.
           Here is a Colorado crossroads from altitude. I’m a fan of these type shots, “They are ants, we haven’t taken off yet.” After a fast-paced week, today was a quiet day at home, brushing the dog, making tea, being domesticated. I picked up more reading material, having watched less than ten minutes of television since I arrived. I had no gumption today but keep reading, since my plan is to check out Karaoke tonight at Sheabeen’s.

           One certain thing, Denver is central and that’s important if you like to travel as much as I do. I’ve recorded many times the difficulty of getting out of Florida, it plain takes a day of travel just to cross the state line. That’s what I need, a nice healthy place to live and everyone is assuring me the winters are not that bad. It’s crossed my mind that I could keep an eye out for a winter place in Florida from here just fine, one of the wonderful aspects of the Internet I’m sure somebody somewhere is trying to change.
           Speaking of change, has anyone else noticed the influx of money-grubbers on the search engines within the last month? If you search for a business, instead of the business, you get “directory services” who will refer you, after of course, you have become a member and identified yourself to their database for purposes undeclared and unpoliced. This is related to my statements last week that slimy outfits from all over the country now have software that pretends they are located in any city you search from. When I specified Denver, my search turned up places in Illinois and Vermont who wanted to ship it to me, after of course, I became a member and . . . .

           Or how about those minute long ads on youTube that you can’t skip or delete, or the pop-ups which you have to click on the close button twice? I can imagine the people who do these things thinking they are so clever, but they have no idea what kind of world their short-term greed is creating for themselves. This blog will NEVER carry advertising that either annoys or inconveniences the reader, nor any product which offends non-users. Got that, Google? But be advised soft drink manufacturers, for the right price I’ll mention you in the text if I like your product.
           Here are some Colorado flowers. I confess, other than the obvious (rose and tulip), I never learned the names of these pretty plants. The color is washed out, but they are white and pale purple. About the size of a bottle cap. To the people who say the leaves are already turning, I have not seen anything but green in my entire travels here. I’m planning a trip into the mountains soon.

           Deciding against Karoake tonight, and instead of reading ads, I learned about carrier pigeons, the military kind. Most of what I thought was wrong. Here are some facts. They aren’t carrier pigeons, which are a breed from Persia. They are homing pigeons that originated in Belgium. They fly up to 500 miles on their own at 60 miles per hour, although special racing breeds can do 800 miles in ideal conditions. The last consistent use was World War I, when it was discovered the birds died from even the lowest concentrations of poison gas.
           Their flight navigation has been studied but remains a mystery. Theories about the sun, stars, magnetism, and something called atmospheric impressions fail because the birds are able to home even when those conditions change. Somehow they are able to compensate. They are so reliable that a failure to return is considered a sign of certain death. And, the lofts to which the pigeons return have an electric alarm that rings when they enter.
           What did you learn today?

ADDENDUM
           I’m miffed at my pharmacy, who told me it was a simple matter to have my prescription filled in another state. They lied, and caused me not to get a 90 day supply, because I believed them. What’s got my goat is they refuse to admit any fault. When I explained they messed up, they tried to find loopholes in my story and kept handing me false apologies. The nearest place I can get the refill is, you are not going to believe this: Nashville, a one-way distance of 1,145 miles.
           What dickheads. Maybe I asked the wrong question. Maybe I misunderstood. (Nonsense, I asked twice and was given the same information twice on two different days.) All they could harp about was what they could not do. When I asked for somebody in charge, I got the company bum boy, “I’ll pass your information on to the office.” Then he acts offended when I asked why he was on the phone if he had no authority, as if the conversation was about how he felt. I wanted them to fill the prescription, and since the problem was entirely their fault, mail it to me. The ignoramus was stunned by the concept.

           All I got from them was that fake “sorry” routine. They’re a sorry lot alright, particularly said ignoramus who actually said this was an “unusual situation”. The guy was so stupid he could not grasp he was implying people never travel to other states. I told him I hope they fire his ass, and hung up. That’s what a nobody gets for wasting fifteen minutes of my perfectly good time. Good thing I didn’t ask him for wheelchair tires, or he might have had a conniption fit.

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August 25, 2012

           This is Unit 22 parked in front of a four bedroom two bath house in Aurora. It last sold in 2002 for $193,000 and is now on the market for $93,000. Nice neighborhood, which means it is full of people like me. You know, quiet people, the kind most likely to be minding their own business most of the time. If house prices do a drop here, places like this move within striking distance of what I can afford. And I already know Colorado flies circles around Florida.
           I took the Goldwing in for diagnostics and was disappointed. I’ll try again later, as I caught the mechanic at closing time. Wow, what a dour old guy, like a prophet of doom. “They don’t make parts for this anymore,” and “Everything you adjust will throw something else off.” Like it was an ill patient not expected to make it. Hey, to me, if a motorcycle engine runs, the rest of the machine is just bent pieces of metal.
           It was a grabbing front brake pad (I suspected in Alabama), which he said would cost $300. He’s acting like that is out of [my] range and I’m thinking it is no big deal. I want the headlight aimed, the clutch adjusted, and a metal bracket for the faring. Turns out Sarasota added their own faring as it was not made for a 1979 model, and the it was held on with hose clamps. I like the faring, but one of the clamps broke.

           Marion and I did not go see the Da Vinci exhibit yet, but it is getting rave reviews. I tinkered around on the Honda and replaced the factory splices with new heat resistant models. Buying that battery booster was a wise move, as it turns out the alternator on the Honda is just barely strong enough to top off the battery. Any overstrain, like the marker lights or sidecar lights can drain faster than the top off. That must be why Sarasota cut all the wires not required by law. There is no kick starter and it will only start with a completely charged battery.
           Nearby is a Thrift I’ve mentioned, and I now consider it the best I’ve seen. All merchandise and clothing is clean and like new or they don’t accept the donations. It is a chain called “Unique Thrift” and, in this economy, expanding and doing a booming business. I may pick up some cool weather gear since I can already tell it is late summer. And they have that big used book section, alas they must clearly have a policy of no text books.
           Next, it was Saturday, so I hit Sheabeen’s to see the entertainment. It was nice, but precisely the type of band I would never fit into. One guitarist, loud, and a bassist who was trying a bit too much to be the stereotyped stage entity that I am totally against. The bassist as a backup musician who takes second place because, shucks, he’s glad just to be there. His low end was too low, he tried to dance around like it would inspire the crowd, but tired quickly because he had a Fender bass. I have an aversion to big, heavy bass instruments that look like super-size guitar. Guys, the sound is all in the electronics, there is no need for a bass the size of a war club.

           Also, they played 90% originals, which were okay if you are the type that listens to ballad lyrics to get the message. The crowd did not pay attention, but his loud guitar was played well enough that he got an applause after each tune, encouraging him to play more originals. When he finally did play a cover (Folsom Prison), he butchered it. The same happened with his lady singer when they did Jackson. Johnny Cash changes chords to match his vocals, making it impossible to try to sing lyrics off a score sheet. She tried it.
           Now, I’m not the hired critic, I’m noting what I would have for competition if I ever play here. That act suffered the same as all do when they try the same thing and I know it when I see it. Originals have their place, and that place is not a working class saloon on weekends. It was blatant how the crowd paid attention only when they played their few cover tunes, but like Florida, that fact was somehow not getting through to the guitar player. They were a great coffee house band.
           Another thing I don’t care for is the style of country music that builds a song around some single catchphrase. There must be a term for this. Do you know what I mean about songs like that? I can’t think of an example right off, but that could be the nature of the music. The only part of the song ever remembered is the catchphrase repeated in the chorus, but the rest of the song nobody even recognizes.

           I stuck around for two full sets. It wasn’t getting any better, so I left. Why is it all jazz guitarist have a go at lame comedy or protest songs? I did talk to a biker who just got off an 18,000 trip around the country “from San Diego to New York and back”. I’ve taken to wearing neckerchiefs and head scarves, which I once saw as biker uniforms, but have discovered they are entirely practical. That doesn't extend to cowboy gear. The last thing I'd wear riding a horse through the brambles is those furry chaps. They must enjoy picking out the burrs.
           Here is an excellent shot of a canyon road. This is from the trail up Lookout Mountain last day. Can you see the mountain stream beside the pavement. I love driving through such terrain and look forward to it in the near future. But, I’ve already got the end of the month blues as I believe I already said that Colorado is not cheap and I’m 23% over budget. I can afford it, but I have to keep focused where I’d rather be carefree. I paid my dues.

           I’ve found a BK on Iliff that is quiet enough to read in over coffee. They have a big screen TV that some people sit and watch for hours, a nice touch. A hurricane is blasting parts of Florida, and in one of the most asinine things I’ve heard, some newslady is afraid this weather will bounce her daily reports of some political convention off top spot. Disgusting, really, people who think like that. Who was that other lady who opposed the liberation of Kuwaiti because the US bombs would damage the ecosystem? Dumb-think.
           Last, I’ve been looking into a motorcycle camper, and have decided on the basic “mini-mate” design. At 235 pounds, that is lighter than my old utility wagon that I could haul with one hand. The problem is the camper price tag of $2,895.00. The literature keeps saying that motels are $160 per night. The most I’ve spent this trip was $45, and it was comfortable and quiet. I’d have to say in the camper over 70 times to break even. The hitch at $275 installed, is also, well, a hitch. But check out the camper, the concept is great—except that you have to completely unload all cargo from the rack before setting it up.

           For truly extended camping, there is the Time Out camper ($4095), which is the largest that can be towed by motorcycle safely. And you should have at least 1300ccs hauling, which is 30% more than my rig. I consider only those campers where the entire tent and interior area is completely up off the ground. Anything that contacts the damp, dirt, or worms is unacceptable. Want to see something ridiculous? A camper with about six inches of freeboard.
           Note to the grammar police. There is no grammatic rule about putting phrases in quotation marks each on a new paragraph. That is a typesetting technique so the reader can follow who is speaking, and in a dialogue, the assumption is the speakers take turns. Got it? That’s typesetting, not grammar, so when I quote somebody, there is no rule says I cannot do so in the middle of a paragraph. Learn your grammar before you police it.

           [Author's note 2016: within a few months of this post, I began developing my own set of typesetting rules based on what looked good on small computer screens. I believe this is the basis of typesetting and punctuation, to make the page or presentation look pleasing to the eye.]

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August 24, 2012

           And I finally made it to Golden, one of those towns you hear and it’s nice to say you saw it. Once anyway. This morning I drove uptown [Denver], still searching for a favorite way to get there, since like all cities that overgrow another, it is hard to find good thoroughfares anywhere. I found 6th street and drove west for ten minutes. There I was in Golden, just in time to see them blocking off all the roads for a bicycle race. Even though it was hours before anything happened, they would not let me park under this sign and snap a classic photo.
           The Coors brewery is tucked in a valley east of town, I didn’t remember that [it was in Golden] until I saw a free tour bus. Maybe another time, although several people were kind enough to repeatedly remind me they gave free beer samples. Hmm, free beer. What a concept. Golden is much smaller than I thought for something so close to Denver. It is right at the beginning of the foothills, set in betweenst some buttes, an entirely different geographical formation than the Rockies. Interesting contrast, since the mesas are worn down and the mountains are thrust up.

           Next, I took the long drive in low gear up Lookout Mountain, acontinuation of 19th street, Golden. That is the highest I’ve been since 1999 when I came over the continental divide on my way to rendezvous with a heart attack in Florida. Today was cloudy, great for travel, not so great for viewing, but I finally saw the foothills as more than distant blue horizon. I truly miss this kind of scenery. Many local signs say Buffalo Bill is buried at the top of Lookout Mountain, which I correctly identified, assisted by a large letter “M” visible from 30 miles away.
           This twisty road took a half-hour but the views are so fantastic I stayed under the 15mph speed limit. At least part of said bicycle race must be up and down that mountain, something I could not even consider. Hundreds of others were on the pavement, to the top, and then passing me in droves on the way down. The sidecar is a pleaser. I stopped at one curb just before the tree line, where the pines close the road in. That's this next picture.
           In fact, that large building just left of center is the brewery. If you can, blow the picture up because I know my eye could see the sign where the camera doesn’t. Behind the hills is the northern outskirts of Denver in this scene looking directly east.
           Now if you are like me, you mix up Buffalo Bill with Wild Bill Hickok. Maybe after today I’ll know better. At the top of the trail is the gravesite of Col. William Cody. And his wife. Apparently he changed his mind about being buried in Cody at the last moment, and asked for Lookout Mountain, where four states are visible. He must have died on a much clearer day.

           The drive is a must if you are anywhere near. There is a small museum that focuses on his wild west show, where I see he was quite the innovator. Mind you, toward the end, around hundred years ago now, he was including everything from elephants to Japanese cavalry. I saw his rifles, saddle, lariat, gloves, knife, gun, and all of it in tip-top condition, so the guy had friends. Spend the five bucks and see it, along with a few displays of Indian artifacts.
           What I learned today was about those artifacts, but not from the museum. I was reading a book on the influence of English mills on America once they discovered that cotton could be worked just as well as wool on the same machinery. English trade goods have been found west of the Mississippi as early as 1570, what’s that, 78 years after Columbus. It shows the Indians traded heavily between themselves, or at least that is my conclusion.
           The scenery from the road is wonderful. Unlike jack pine and tundra pine, these long needle trees space themselves so you can walk through the forest. I heard that the needles that shed around the base of the trees are acidic, a natural defense against other plants competing for the available soil. I saw that in the Georgia pines as well, it is far better scenery than bush.

           I used the long hours in the quiet to think about Colorado and the fun of the music last night. It would be so tempting to just walk into a playing situation instead of the uphill fight it became in Florida. I am a classically trained musician with experience arranging music, and arranging is a step far too many leave out. House prices here are still far too high, though I’ll take a peek. I can’t just pack up and leave Florida. But once I’m back there for a month or two to settle a few things, then I could—and I have no doubt I’ll be buying a trailer for the sidecar soon as I can afford it.
           Speaking of cash, a lady I casually knew a few years ago got mugged in Spain. Lost everything and got clubbed on the head. Sadly, she is writing everyone, including me, for a loan to get back and I cannot help. Like everyone on a budget, cash gets tight at the end of the month, and travel cost me nearly 20% more than I projected. If she is still stranded after first of the month, I could likely spare some. I should not feel bad, I mean, I can’t afford European holidays.

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August 23, 2012

           This photo is the Mississippi, I lost the folder and here it is this morning because I intended to publish it long ago. In the background are the two bridges just below the confluence of the Yazoo and the Mississippi. This crosses from Mississippi into Louisiana at Vicksburg.
           Ah, a week already in Colorado. I’m considerably impressed by things so far, but then again, I’ve got a free place to stay. Without that factor, I’d be really shelling out on a daily basis. Forming now is a plan to see the foothills. So far the mountains have only been a blue smudge on the horizon through the urban haze, yet the locals tell me the foothills are just a 15 minute drive. It won’t be long before that happens. Unit 22 is running smoothly despite an annoying short in the right turn signal I can’t troubleshoot.

           And I have the measure of the sidecar now. I know to find the smoothest part of the road, a much more delicate matter than in a car. I can take left and right turns easily even when changing gears, which is challenging. I’ll stand up on the pegs to get a better view or spot a parking space.
           I next went back to the Thrift on Iliff to buy two books I left because I was not yet sure I’d have enough cash for the guitar. Sure enough, in that entire mass of shelves they’ve got, guess which two books were gone. Instead I found an Ann Coulter, whose views on politicians are astonishingly similar to my view on certain types of people. However, she knows more about politicians and their names than I could ever sink my brain into. It’s her perspective that keeps me interested.
           For example, she notes how Liberals have only a limited number of memorized talking points, which they try to shoehorn into every argument no matter how irrelevant. I forget how she worded it, but my version is that losers have no policies or positions formed until after you make the first move. They fear commitment to a firm rule of law. They know they will lose if they can’t make up the rules as they go along—which explains the massive amounts of wasted time in their lives. They are watching for you to do something, anything, before than can pounce.

           Good for you if you read this far, because I have something to tell that could be momentous. I followed up with that country open mic at Sheabeen’s mentioned last day. It was totally successful, right from the crowd, the band, the management, and the money. I received a firm offer to play bass, not to be confused with a firm offer of money.
           The good parts are on video, so I’m going to balk a retelling anything not factually shown there. I overplayed a few times and got some scowls, twice a patron walked to the stage and addressed me like I was the band leader, and I was tipped separately from the band, I won’t say how much. All this was duly noted by those that matter. I hope my performance didn’t shoot myself in the foot—but that Sinatra tune “These Boots” was a classic in that joint. I’m invited back next week.

           Later, I tried to peel some stills off the video without much luck. Where the fiddle player stood, I got some excellent footage of the back of his left shoulder. It was a nine-piece group including myself, all seasoned local musicians of variable talent. But as far as the country music scene, I hit the jackpot and it is less than two miles from here. I sang Jambalaya and Folsom Prison as well, also getting compliments on that. Colorado is getting more tempting every day—and hey, it’s been exhausting work trying to get even one Florida musician to try country music. It’s wait and see for me until at least next Thursday.
           What’s this then? A western style hamburger with fries. It has been so long I could not resist, I broke my diet and for the first time in months, I felt full. Look at that beauty, with pickle on the side. A mug of coffee. A local magazine. The sidecar outside surrounded by admirers. And a real blonde waitress, not the Miami blonde variety. It don’t get no better. I don’t even mind that the tab came to $9.57 and I left a buck tip. Enough calories till tomorrow, but it had to happen sooner or later: REAL FOOD!

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August 22, 2012

           It’s a known fact that rush hour traffic is always stop and go, except when you need a stop check a map or open your coffee. Has anyone named this effect? I purposely went downtown y’day in rush hour so I could drive around at a half mile per hour and not be out of place. This is the best shot I could get to prove I really was in Denver. It is on Colfax, I was heading back when I passed by, wondering if they had change for a quarter.
           The sidecar has been a masterstroke of public relations. As I drove past a circular park a great looking lady yelled out “Give me a ride.” I pointed to the curb but I was on the outside lane. By the time I got around through the one-ways and such, it was over eight minutes to return and by that time she was gone.
           When women ask, I’ve taken to telling them outright that I’m single, a musician, and if they want a ride, I’ll take them anywhere they want to go. I have not owned the sidecar quite a month yet. And I notice two types of women speak up. The adventuresome and those bored by ordinary men. Both are my type, please find me the one who just wants to make me happy. Really, it isn’t all that difficult since socially I generally fly on autopilot.

           That leads me to music, my primary role in meeting women. Admittedly, I’m heap new at sidecar travel and guessed what to bring along. I chose the bass, because of history. But the bass is something I know to make money with, not my selection for meeting people. That is why I went to the used musical instrument store and bought a Fender acoustic. Turns out the top location in the state is kitty-corner from where I have morning coffee, about a half-mile from here. They are the hardest nose types imaginable, they will not bend on the marked price. They got me for $118.73.
           Next, I dropped into the Irish pub that has country music tomorrow. A conversation quickly ensued with another guy who also played bass and shared many of the same acerbic opinions of guitarists. How was I to know he was the owner? I’m invited tomorrow to stand in and audition. It was luck that a rain sprinkle started as I arrived and I walked in carrying the guitar I just bought. I also left behind my Markley (acoustic guitar pickup) but like I said, I’m learning this.

           One thing I like about Colorado is that driving around you see young pretty women. So, I’m old and won’t get any, but one needs the reminder that they still exist. You would not know that in Florida, where anything remotely good looking is assailed from all sides. This is more than a fact in the Latin areas, where marriage or relationships don’t seem to inhibit the men from hitting on every white woman they see. It is the result of a severe, innate inferiority complex. Now don’t nobody go saying I recognized this syndrome from my brothers. They had no complex. They really were inferior.
           I always wave back at the pretty ones, and it won’t be long before I stop and chat. Even slowing down the sidecar, technically known as Unit 22, is somewhat complicated, as all Hondas gear down best when the vehicle is still moving. Here is a picture of the men’s room wall at the Irish pub. They re grayscale photos of Playboy pinups, which I’ve always agreed with because that is as close as most men ever get. Porno keeps beta males out of my way. The small sign by the hand dryer says not to steal the photos; the bar will print up a copy for free. That goes to show you.

           Tomorrow I’ll be buying some reading material. I’ve gone through every last volume I brought or bought. Oh, and the English murder mystery? Read it yourself, the ending is abrupt, unexpected, gruesome, and most un-Hollywood. So unexpected, in fact, that I doubt it will ever make any of the American lists.
           The protesters I saw last day wanted justice for some politician, so the protest was not based on justice. Politics and justice are hard to write in the same sentence. If it was some other type of criminal I’d pay attention. But politics, police, and protesters are enough p’s for any paragraph. I’ll reserve my sympathy for the far more deserving.

ADDENDUM
           One cannot but noticing the larger emphasis on camping gear in Colorado. In Florida, you drive through the parks, camping isn’t that popular. Certainly pine trees and mountains fit the city man’s idea of outdoors more than a swamp full of invasive species. Several pieces of high tech gear I found more interesting than the rest.
           A company called Caframo (I think) has two items I’d like to see. One is a lamp that reputedly lights up a room with a single tea candle. Called JOI (I think), it uses the heat from the candle to generate enough electricity to run LEDs to the equivalent of eighteen candles. I’d like to see that.

           Then there is the Ecofan, also electric by the sound of things. Again, the current is activated by heat. This fan is meant to sit on top of a wood-burning stove. The hotter the stove, the faster the blades twirl. The result is the heat is more evenly distributed and reputedly entails a considerable drop in the amount of wood needed to heat the structure.
           I discovered these items when researching BTUs, not camping gear, so no pix. Besides, I can’t hand people everything. A tea candle puts out around 2,000 BTUs, think of a BTU as the equivalent of burning one single wooden match. So the embodied energy quotient of a red brick equals over 90 candles. I’ve never seen that many burning at once.

           This concludes my study of adobe houses and I think I’ll take away some useful knowledge. For instance, I learned in accounting that building anything requires material, labor, and overhead. Now I know that overhead can be split so that design becomes a separate stage that, financially, is the most important. For example, I saw a graph of car manufacturing that showed design has more impact on profit than the other three components combined. So I imagine it the same or similar for housing, but never pondered it before.

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