One year ago today: June 29, 2016, the mothership.
Five years ago today: June 29, 2012, Amtrak doubles its prices.
Nine years ago today: June 29, 2008, find the error.
Random years ago today: June 29, 2014, a day in West Palm.
Welcome to June 29th, which I say because there was a time not that long ago, this was supposed to be the end for me. I did one of those on-line surveys of my expected life-span and today was it. Croak day. You don’t really count the last days until you don’t have so many left. But hey, I’m still counting so I’ve beat the odds. No, I won’t buy a lottery ticket. And don’t take anything I say seriously. I’ve still got jet lag. I could hardly order coffee, vocal cords not working right.
Trivia for you. Did you know that Germany produces twice as many cars as America? Now you do, plus, they pay the workers twice as much and the cars sell for less. Since WWII, the USA has awoken from the capitalist dream, staggered to the toilet, locked the door, and fell back asleep in there.
Moments later, the new battery charger is connected and working. The records show the last charger, in nine years, was used 22 times. It works out to about a dollar per use. The replacement is from Harbor Freight (my boycott is over) but I still do not trust them or their intrusive return policy. I’m not too keen on the pushy broad they have working the till, either. But the product itself is improved since the first model, which lasted nine years. Here’s what I like best:
a) the instruction manual now written by a native English speaker
b) the cables longer and noticeably better quality
c) the meter back display changed from amps to percent of charge
d) the carry handle enlarged to fit an adult man’s grip
For the remainder of the morning, I read PopSci. Man, that publication has also gone downhill. Instead of retracting to a more lean standard (easy because of their past), they’ve diluted the articles to that superficial humdrum of the masses. It’s perpetually easier for the proles to identify with global warming than to grasp verifiable scientific fact.
As for global warming, I find the most accurate studies surrounded that volcano in the Philippines that blasted all the sulfur dioxide into the air. In 1991, it spread around the globe and cooled the planet half a degree for one or two years, yet it varied the total amount of the gas in the atmosphere by less than a few parts per million. A group of Seattle scientists came up with a plan to spray nozzle the compound into the stratosphere on hoses suspended from helium balloons.
Would it work? Well, said the scientists, that depends on who is doing the spraying. Had it been Al Gore, they’d give him another Nobel Prize. If it had been Hugo Chavez, he would have been visited by a few cruise missiles. The US military does what it is told, even if the command comes from inside a locked bathroom.
Meatballs.
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This object, called by the makers a cone, won an $85,000 prize. It’s actually a milestone in 3D printing. There was no banana for scale. Other than the cash, I could find no information on why it is so special. But I’ll hazard a guess. It is part of a study on 3D structures of the kind that make sense to send to Mars. Or at least would potentially make sense in the unlikely event somebody invents a spray nozzle that actually lasts longer than a week.
“All my risks are calculated.
I’m just bad at math.”
~ Various.
Man, did I call the weather wrong. There I was, heading along Hwy 98 and I could see the storm clouds on the SE horizon. That’s miles away, said my brain. Nope. I caught sprinkles near dark and had this brilliant brain flash. Why don’t I drop down to Kooters and do the books? The local storms never last overnight. After an hour of steadily worsening sprinkles, it decides to become the deluge of the decade. I walked out back several times to convince myself I was not seeing things, and nearly choked getting past the other people checking things out round back. Gasp.
Sure enough, what a storm. I stuck around as long as I could, but finally wrapped my important gear in a borrowed plastic bag and took my chances. I got half-way before it’s soaked to the core, for it is always bad to get raindrops in the face, neck, or goggles. What adventure, for you see, this is the essence of the motorcycle as a prime mover.
Beginning July, I start an orderly search for a used station wagon. I received a tentative reply on my application of last month. While it was not the answer I needed, it reveals I’m sufficiently far into the system to be confident of something. My main objection to a vehicle is the compulsory insurance. If I ever get sued, I already carry liability insurance so I should not have to double that up because of a car. Auto insurance does not work the same way as other insurances. If you can’t afford to repair your own car, insurance is really no help in the long run.
Yes, but should I investigate the new VW bus? There will come a day when I can no long snooze in the cPod. In case you are wondering, no, I’ve never lived in a van or gone traveling in one. But I used to make five and six day trips crashing in my Cadillac. It was soundproof. To my overseas visitors, ‘crashing’ means to sleep for free or to sleep on a sofa. If you calculate it out, America is a very, very expensive place to sleep. Unless you are homeless.
Here is another picture of the reincarnated Volkswagen bus. The price of the one you want is $38,000. I told ya.
[Author's note: don't think you can buy an older hippie van and fix it up, either. Along with discontinuing the camper van, Volkswagen also quit manufacturing the motor and spare parts. They've become as rare as rubies. These original motors are pretty well the only one that will fit into the old chassis. So if you see one on the road, it is owned by very wealthy people.]
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