One year ago today: March 26, 2015, Sony and Angel Falls.
Five years ago today: March 26, 2011, the photo is posed.
Nine years ago today: March 26, 2007, Florida, the moron state.
Random years ago today: March 26, 2008, retirement ain’t worth it.
MORNING
My, aren’t we up early? 4:49AM. It would be nice to get that clutch cable fitted today. I can live without the new starter. There are several ways to start the sidecar without the fancy parts, including running a cable forward from the cPod. I can explain [being awake at] the early hour because I didn’t go out for coffee last evening. I usually have an order of toast, sigh, muffins are a thing of the past. Anyway, by middle of the night I was famished and here we are. Wondering when I’ll get that cable happening and this blog can get back to the high adventure of open road travel.
[Author’s note: this sidecar flat tire is a separate issue from the clutch cable. That cable repair was successful and you can read about it in the Addendum. ]
I’ve discovered a quirk in the sidecar design. The tire is on a spoked wheel, which is fine except same as a spoked bicycle rim, it is never quite round or quite straight. Hence, a slight nudge from a curb or even a swift kick can break the bead. The older the tire, the more it goes a little brittle and doesn’t like to flex with the rim. It’s apparent when the rig begins to pull to the right, but pro drivers will instantly fly the chair slightly off the ground all the way to an air pump. I went past pedestrians today who saw the sidecar but did not notice the wheel wasn’t turning. Ta-da!
And after a day of rain, the next day it is 97F out there and I don’t feel like fixing a flat. Of course, there is no shade in the front yard and I can’t use the back because the last Frenchie is leaving and needs the space to pack up. This just has not been my day. Only one thing to do. Take the scooter to the Aventura library and bask in the government air conditioning.
The Wiki picture of the day is a dying commodity. I initially tried to link to the articles, but they were not all compatible with this blog, so you get just the pictures. Anyone who reads a lot of Wiki has spotted the tendency toward truth by majority rules. Put another way, that means truth by whomever conducted the most successful propaganda campaign. Wiki insists on too many versions that long been disproven, but as for the link, only one picture in 17 is blogworthy.
It is the same old story, that author or photography starts off with a big idea, but can’t sustain it, and before long the pictures reduce to his lowest common denominator. One may rightly ask the question of whether it is even possible to produce a non-news, non-porno, non-political blog over a period of years and still keep up with material fresh enough to hold anyone’s interest long-term. I suspect I will be out of Wiki pictures that make the grade before the end of this year.
South Dakota, 1936.
NOON
“Compliment women on their intelligence, not on their looks.” ~ Me, I said that.
So one of the Frenchies threw out some small drawers, which I grabbed to salvage for the wood panels. I figured I’d just chisel apart the pieces but when I hit the first one, son-of-a-gun, this isn’t laminate or glued up. What a score. The panels appear to be shaped out of solid 5/8” red alder (I’m no expert). I matched the grain and color to some on-line charts. They are too thin for whirlagigs, but I’ll find something nice to make with this. I wish I knew how to make dovetail boxes and such.
I know little of the politics going on, but I certainly know the mannerisms, expressions, and inflections of a professional liar when I encounter one. And this Ted and Hillary reek to high heaven. Again, I know zero politics, but I would not sit next to these types of people at the local saloon. Whereas this Trump guy, after one beer, he’d hire me as vice president. That, you know, fits my philosophy of never being the top guy. Be a little down the chain of command, but be the real power while somebody else takes the heat.
So to be somewhat fair, I listened to a speech by this Sanders guy. There’s your personification of the old school hard line say-anything-to-get-elected type that will do nothing if he gets in. These sort always see politics as not solving problems, but “addressing” them as an on-going way of life. He has that measured tone perfected by countless bureaucrats but he ruins his own chances by over-criticizing Trump. Example, Sanders says Trump will never be president because the people will not vote for anyone who insults Mexicans.
This is your typical political double-talk. He never actually said Trump did the insulting, or showed that what Trump said was false. Instead, Sanders made a direct appeal to the lowest mentality of voters, those who instantly associate Trump with “insult Mexicans”, which Sanders knows is not true, but he’s counting on the segment of the electorate that thinks it is. And it is twisted double-talk, because the people who do vote for Trump will still not be voting for anyone who insults Mexicans.
I listened to the old guy for nearly a half-hour before I fell asleep. Bernie is too politically correct to ever be a serious contender in a world of terrorism, feminism, and narrow self-serving agendas. Even if Trump insulted ten women who desperately needed it, that is not the same as insulting women in general. Plus, Bernie, there is something that needs explaining to you. Trump is not a career politician. So what he said or did before he became one is not as relevant as you would like it to be. You don’t seem to realize how trite you sound by bringing up Trump’s past when he had no intention of being politically correct.
The average American now realizes full well that if either of the parties had been able to come up with a viable candidate, Trump would never have entered the race. Funny how none of the candidates argues the point when Trump calls them do-nothings and lightweights. But the real self-inflicted wound of the other candidates is the millions they’ve spent, not on getting elected, rather on trying to find that one accusation they can make that will bring down the Donald. Not prove anything, just be the one to make the accusation. We are curious why they are not bellowing the Hitler comparisons.
NIGHT
It took until after dusk, but the sidecar flat is fixed—I think. I say that because I won’t really know until the morning. I used the spray goop, which is ten bucks a can now, you know. That’s tripled since I’ve owned the motorcycle. What I would like is to one day go through everything I own here and find all the missing pieces and parts that I can never find when I need them. Because I don’t have adequate storage and I wind up stashing things where they’ll fit, and forgetting them. Then like today, I had to make a special trip to buy #10 metric nuts, even though I know there is a package of them around here somewhere.
It was now too late to go out, even for coffee, so a quiet Saturday at home. It comes to this sooner or later for everyone. While I don’t go touring on Fridays, Saturdays were always a party day. I don’t think I missed a single Saturday for decades at a stretch. It’s not lack of gumption, but that I’d go out in an instant if I knew where there was a nice place to go.
Which broaches the question, what would I consider nice? A club with a small country band, no cover charge, no sports TV or obnoxious sports fans, female staff that doesn’t hover, and fair prices. Sure, the old Jimbos was a dive, but it had all those things and thus it was also a safe place for single women to show up. Also true, some of those women were a little too single but you did get the occasional gem. Which never happens anywhere else I’ve found in this arena. Yes,even at my age, meeting women remains an important aspect of a successful evening.
ADDENDUM
The clutch cable repair. Except for the way it is threaded through the frame, it’s straightforward. Here’s the photos, I got it right the first time. Allow an hour for this job, more if you are not mechanically inclined. I’m not, but building robots is not a game for mental midgets. If you look in the lower right photo, you’ll see the string tied to the front tire. This was to pull the old cable out and to pull the new one in via exactly the same path.
Notice the job was done with the assistance of my sparkling new magnetic parts holder. Okay, so there were only two parts, but you see, I also got to use my custom made “ice pick”, consisting mainly of a sharpened bicycle spoke. The rest, you can see, it has to do with figuring out the cable is not really attached to the motorcycle. Rather, it “floats” between the two end brackets.
Now listen up. Last day I described how I drove the last five miles home with no clutch. I think I need to tell people not to try this. It is bloody dangerous. I did it because it was late, there was little traffic, I knew the shortcuts, and the stop light patterns. I could have been in big trouble if I’d hit a red light along the way. I did run a flashing red. So I’m saying, don’t try this at home.
I find out later this kind of driving is called “cramming”, as in cramming it into gear. However, I did not know that when the cable snapped and take full credit for figuring out the solution that got me back to base. But I’m recommending that you do NOT even try such a thing.
And I had reported on the high quality of the replacement cable. This turned out to be an illusion caused by fancy rubber sheaths on the new part that were missing from the old. The cables were otherwise identical.
As for Google removing your option to cancel counting your own blog visits, there is more to the story. It turns out the feature worked by adding a “cookie blocker” to your browser. Note, that if you worked on your blog from more than one browser, you would have to activate the feature on each browser. Well, it turns out people were doing just that, and the blocker was persistent. It stayed in place even when you were not working on your blog, preventing Google from tracking all your usage. And, as you know, Google is not going to put up with that kind of nonsense. Everything you do on line is their business and they have a God-given right to record it.
Last Laugh
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