One year ago today: July 7, 2014, Greenwich Mean Time.
Five years ago today: July 7, 2010, routine maintenance.
Six years ago today: July 7, 2009, my camouflage idea.
MORNING
If you think you are tired of real estate, trade places with me. Upon examining the other winning bids on similar properties, I now know there is no real chance of winning this auction unless nobody else shows up. While we have more cash than the average person, the average person never goes to auctions where he cannot afford anything. Still, the consensus y’day was that the experience alone will be worth the trip. Today’s addendum raises some questions about the ethics of all this.
I bought it for less than half, being fully aware that alternator needed replacing. That has been the only expensive repair so far, at $720. The rest of the expenses were consumables, in particular the tuneups which cost $400. Because there are four carburetors. This afternoon, the rear brake gets fixed and hopefully it is just a broken bleeder valve, not the master cylinder. But it doesn’t matter, this machine has saved me a fortune and provided many a unique experience.
Trivia, here is the Morse code distress signal sent by the Titanic. It’s simulated, but probably close to what happened. Except it does seem a bit fast for the hand keys in use at that time. Compare with this sound, the Japanese Torture Comedy Hour.
NOON
“Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
To cut down on shop time, my mechanic asked me to remove the saddlebags. They block direct access to the rear brake fittings. When they are removed, I see there is actually quite a bit of space both in the pockets and above them. In this photo, that is the space between the outrigger bars at the top and the yellow tail lights at the rear of the motorcycle.
An hour later, it is the brake master cylinder, so that’s another $100 repair. While in there, I was reminded I need $300 worth of new shocks and so on. Still, this projected total still brings the bike in at $2,000 less than I paid for it. But it is rapidly reaching the break-even point. The bike will not be ready until late Saturday. It is drivable.
So I spent the day reading, taking it easy in the heat. The whole history of World War II needs to be re-written from a neutral point of view. Right now, it is truth by victory and majority rule. Most common myths are that Hitler started the war, that Germany wanted to rule the world, and that the terms “German” and “Nazi” are interchangeable. Another good one is the myth of the Stuka, which in fact was a fighter pilot’s dream come true. It was slow and clunky.
I see the Internet has spawned another lame round of fascination with female soldiers. I laugh extra at the videos of groups of blond Slavic women marching through Moscow. Anybody who’s seen large groups of women know the likelihood of finding more than ten good-looking examples in one spot is confined to the sidelines of American football games. And even those are paid to do it.
AFTERNOON & NIGHT
The expense which stops us from building a robot has not stopped us from continuing our studies. I spent some time looking into hydraulics. That’s pure curiosity, for if you cannot afford electrical controls, don’t even look at hydraulics. Robotics is more about precision than the control of raw force that seems central to hydraulics. This subject is not for me, but has any one thought of making a nano tube 100 miles high and filling it with water? Then you have your satellite at the bottom drop its anchor. How to pump water 100 miles high? Easy. Hydraulics.
While on aircraft, I continue to be impressed by the monocoque construction method. I’ve chopped and altered 40% of that model airplane I built on a lark and it retains strength. As for the newer, smaller servos. I’m finally designing small compartments or “nacelles” to hold them motors in place. I guess you can [rate] your model accurate when you find yourself duplicating full-scale practice. I was also watching the progress of drones, which I think are a must if the only thing they accomplish is to get rid of these grinning bozos who’ve bought into their own top-gun hubris.
Too many half-wits are going on about the need for an “inhabited” cockpit in case civilians are killed. Since when did the US Air Force start worrying about the wholesale slaughter of civilians? Dresden? Nagasaki? I say the “experts” are jockeying for publicity and are not seeing that the move is toward sensors that will enhance the remote pilot’s view and awareness above what is humanly possible today. Such people would complain that ATMs and cruise control lack the human touch, let's bring back manual labor for all.
From what I’ve seen, at least the drones, when they make errors, kill in far smaller batches. Besides, what is the "head of an orphanage" doing walking past the you-know-what headquarters on the other side of town at midnight? And it is not as if the bad guys are avoiding the death of civilians.
ADDENDUM
I think it’s a holdover from the Great Depression, but there is a lingering attitude that banks and foreclosures are evil, and those who attend auctions are bottom-feeders. It remains a minor psychological hurdle, but one you get over. You see, if people had learned anything from the last depression it is that you don’t get too attached to something you bought with borrowed money. You don’t own it.
We considered the morality of the situation and to heck with the hard-luck stories and the other guy losing because through no fault of his own, he failed to make his last few payments. What kind of jackass thinks he can read his own life thirty years into the future? That he’s the one who will be constantly employed, etc. He’ll probably defend himself saying everybody else was doing it—the “family” argument.
No, not everybody. I spotted the trap with my first mortgage and it was only ten years. (I’ve owned four houses, all bought cash except the first one.) I’m not the number one fan of home ownership. Houses not only tie you down, they force you to obey an outdated rulebook written by people who don’t like you. There are few things worse than a man who thinks working his life away for the bank makes him rich and free.
After sixteen hours of study on the topic, I now see auctions as what is left over after two other parties have duked it out. I’m more like picking up the pieces. But it carries a certain intellectual challenge to figure out what the others are going to do. I like winning, but I prefer to do so without always resorting to being smarter than the next guy. That gets a lot like work.
Last Laugh
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