Today's America. From the side of the road.

I just returned from a bike ride, and had some thoughts while riding.  Instead of my typical research backed musings, I'm going to let you readers find the research you feel supports your counterpoints.   You're likely home on your corona island anyway, so you have the time.  Anyway, modern america summed through experiences in just a 45 minute bike ride:


1. Mile 1.1 While I'm locked into my pedals, stopping and therefore, intersections aren't fun.  Mile 1.1 brings a simple 4 way stop.  I roll up and try to make eye contact or somehow catch the driver of the light blue Toyota econobox to no avail.  She's not paying attention at all to traffic, giving it all to her phone. In an active intersection.  Shiest, I know traffic is light these, but this instant laziness / selfishness is unacceptable.  Fail.  2020 America...generally selfish, unaware, and obsessed with social media.  Maybe I'll post your #drivingfail, Courtney.


2. Mile 3.5 Diesel pickup truck passes me and purposely "rolls coal" dropping diesel soot in my path.  Seriously, what's your deal dude?  I get that you bought the pickup truck even though you have no real need for its utility so that you felt more "like a man", but what's the deal with trying to hurt the environment, hurt your engine, crush your fuel economy and possibly get a lawsuit?  What makes it worth it to you?  Do you know that I can't afford to sue you and likely win as many states now consider what you did a crime?  Do you know that I don't have my mobile phone affixed to my handlebar recording you?  Fail 2020 America...Watch this, maybe I'll get on YouTube. And even if not, I'll feel better about myself since I can put this person in danger or make them feel worse.  And I'm a man damn it, watch me obliterate nature and the place my kids will grow up in.  Hell yeah, git r done, Hunter!

3. Mile 6 Old farm truck is pulling a massive farm implement, yet gives me plenty of room and passes slowly on a straight stretch of road, giving a polite wave as I go by.  Pass 2020 America...Older farmer who worked hard and knows many out there have had to do the same.  Even if I look like an alien to him in full road bike spandex, he just wants to say hi and let me be me.  Nice guy from a mostly nice generation - one that had to live through real hardship and appreciates life and others.  Thanks for your contribution to balancing society, Farmer Jim

4. Mile 7 Didn't take long, but now this Hyyunndayyy crossover utility marketing term vehicle passes me, flooring it up a hill with no visibility and giving no room for any mistakes, oncoming traffic, branches in the road.  Clueless.  Fail 2020 America...mid 40's mom rushing around as if there's some race she'll win if she just gets it all done faster, damn anyone who could get in her way.  Likely a hit and runner if she were to swipe me, and that nearly happened...single digit inches separated her vehicle and my handlebar.  Wake up "I'm sooooo busy" Lisa and realize you're not in a race.  Your car is not for speed, and your life will benefit, even while getting it all done, if you just slow down.

5. Mile 10 Coming around a corner and some red hand me down Chevy Cobalt decides she should just drive as usual giving me zero thought as she goes right through the turn, not allowing me to get out of her way first, which would take all of .01 seconds.  Fail 2020 America...she didn't do this on purpose, but simply had no one teach her the right way to drive.  Driving instruction now is horrendous, and what used to hone driving skills across the multitude of potential situations on the roads was experience.  Experience doesn't come to young people who use the internet to interact.  Young people who use Uber.  Young people who just don't care to drive, and get their helicopter parents to take them everywhere.  It's not your fault, Madison, it's us.

6. Mile 14 Rolling up to a stop light that's turning red.  Gray minivan is right behind me, but we're like 100 feet to the stoplight which turned yellow about 10 seconds ago, and red 2 seconds ago, so it clearly will have at least a minute more of red before it will turn green again.   Nevertheless, driver races past me only to apply the brakes hard and stop next to me.  Fail 2020 America.  What was the point of passing me, older gentleman?  Seriously are you putting that little thought into driving?  You're like the person who changes lanes constantly on the highway in traffic to get ahead by a single car at best.  Start treating driving with respect and even better treat those sharing the road with it too, Ralph

I'm out of miles and experiences, but in this pandemic time, I would hope more people are being forced to recognize their impact on overall society, and what they do to contribute to some of the very things they say they dislike about it.

USA: Driving Instruction Fail

Why aren't we providing decent driving instruction to new drivers in the US.  

Many call the passing lane "the fast lane" and truly don't know the difference, and stick in it causing traffic and accidents.

Many weave right before a left turn or vice versa as if they are driving an 80 foot tractor trailer, or have forgotten they aren't racing at Le Mans that day.

Many feel a red light or stop sign is a green/go for checking one's phone, despite being part of active traffic.

Wouldn't we save far more lives by adequately providing driving instruction to young and new drivers.  Better yet, what about a graduated system as in other Western countries?  

So many people feel they are better drivers than they really are, and given an instructor I've recently talked with, I can understand why this might come about. In my opinion, this instructor wasn't a good driver himself, having learned some rules from a book written long ago without relevancy in a world of smartphones, loud stereos and a majority of drivers that lack expected common sense in an "accident" scenario.

I will find data to support.

Confectioners on crack

What drug(s) were candy makers on when inventing some of the names of popular candies and chocolates?  Certainly some names come from another era when society's lexicon included these unusual pairings. 

I'll return to this one later with some findings on these to start...

Butterfinger

Heath

100 Grand

Snickers

M and M's

Twizzlers

Meteorologist Monkeys

What if animals were able to predict the weather like we do/guess through Lou the meteorologist? 

Would they be ever more efficient at life?

Have humans become more efficient at life, at creating comfort through fairly accurate weather prediction? I think it's fairly easy to argue yes.   So then would this additional this enable some animals to live differently and possibly extend their lifespan?

Are you one of those with the opinion that animals can predict weather?  I think all would agree that animals can feel pressure changes and notice those visible differences in the sky, oceans, and earth, but what about prediction that's more than a day in the future?  Do (some) animals have some senses we don't?  

Daddy Issues

American society falls one more bit behind other advanced societies every time we embrace an inane phrase and proceed to overuse it.  

An example I just overheard "She's got daddy issues".   I would be willing to wager that most don't even know what this phrase relates to, what it really means, and how insulting it is to both those who know what it means correctly and incorrectly. 

Related to this has grown adjacent phrases like "come to papa".  Seriously, break that one down a minute.  Imagine the same cro magnon moron who pokes fun at a woman for having "daddy issues" in the afternoon uses "come to papa" with his wife later that evening. Sick. Stupid. Stupid sick.

6000 Mile Savory Sip

Travel via air from Edinburgh, Scotland to Sao Paulo, Brazil and you'll cover a touch over six thousand miles.  However, if you pick up a local specialty from each locale and combine them deftly with some ice in glass, you may think every one of the six thousand miles was worth it.

I recently met a bartender of bartenders.  Dave was one of the characters you meet in life who has a never ending supply of genuine experiences, all interesting, and all worth telling many times over.   Dave and I were discussing some of finer points of wine and beer, or rather Dave was gracefully keeping me in the conversation, as his expertise was exceptional.

Dave had a particular interest in cocktails of late, and had been experimenting with various ingredients, hoping to add more great libations to his notebook.  We talked about the science of pure ice production, (it's really not too difficult to make perfectly clear ice cubes at home) and soon we shifted to Scotch based drinks.   Dave's mentioned an appreciation of coconut water, which I also have, and before I could say no, Dave had poured two Ardbeg Scotch and coconut waters.  Refreshing and unusual in that it's a Scotch based mixer, which is difficult to mix, as I understand it.  Jamie, another bar patron had now partaken and proclaimed it excellent.

All we needed now was a name.  "Scoconut" sprung to mind, but that really wasn't all that interesting. Although Bobonut (Bourbon and coconut water) and Jojonut (Jack Daniels based) make the trio fun to say if nothing else.  Give one a try, and create some "Dave" stories of your own.

Sarcastic Safety

Little sums the dumbing down of the world more than some examples of "safety" improvements made to consumer goods.   Consider a few recent experiences of mine...

I finally had worn out an old kettle burner - the type one uses to prepare a "boil" like crawfish or lobster or crab. These are the outdoor propane burners that sits under a large kettle and heats whatever is in the 6 gallon kettle above it.   Others use these to boil water and components for beer, as do I, but many others use these to fry whole turkeys in oil.   Whole turkey frying became much more popular in the mid-2000's, and with that, the masses tried their hand at it.   Of course, instructions were ignored, in the name of manliness, wisdom, or hubris, and as a result US fire departments were called to 156,000 home fires in 2011, with many accidents likely self-extinguished.   Therefore, these types of burners were made subject to additional government agency requirements in design to help insure the less intelligent consumers from their own lack of fire safety.
 

Unfortunately, the changes required to outdoor cooking products like these clashed with the drive to lower the cost of these units due to competition.  Most sell for less than $100 USD, and therefore the safety enhancements needed to be added at a minimal cost.  However, these changes such as temperature monitoring and cooking vessel sensors aren't inexpensive, simple improvements.  So, they were done as inexpensively as possible, and in doing so, design and components suffered, thereby making them nearly impossible to make effective.  My experience has been one of safety sarcasm...I spend more time messing around with the product close to flowing gas, ignition sources or flames than I do warming the kettle.   So, in the end, the safety devices mandated for the idiots actually makes the product more dangerous to use.  Hopefully the accident statistics wake up the governmental agencies soon to allow for alterations to the specifications to truly make these things safer.   Until then, the old style, pre-mandate burners will continue to sell for a premium on ebay, and consumers will ignite home fires for entirely new reasons other than dunking a frozen turkey into 200+ degree oil.

Another example of safety sarcasm comes in the form of a gasoline container.  Recently, a product failure in a vehicle I was driving led to my running out of fuel.   As the vehicle's gauge didn't accurately read the fuel level, the engine stopped on a major freeway, at night in a snow/sleet storm.   I didn't have any advance warning, so the best I could do was to pull over as far as possible and set the hazard flashers.   After a long brisk, wet walk to purchase a fuel container, I finally found a large home improvement warehouse with 6 different fuel containers.  Each had a new device on the nozzle which wouldn't allow dispensing of fuel without turning a safety lock and then compressing the nozzle.   Having no other choice, I bought this container, and proceeded to find fuel and return to the stranded vehicle.   In the dark and snow, I located a flashlight to figure out exactly what this new design required to pour fuel.  Unfortunately, the government agency seemingly thought of exactly one requirement when mandating this design on all manufacturers - dispensing fuel into a small machine's tank.  The nozzle required one hand to hold the container (upwards of 40 pounds, full with 5 gallons) and another to hold a safety slide to one side.  It also required that the nozzle be compressed in order to dispense fuel.  I learned all this as I stood within 6 feet of semi trucks doing 75 miles per hour.
 Recall it's 25 degrees F and snowing, and add deafening sounds, blinding headlights, and gusts of passing blowback.

In the middle of this extremely dangerous situation, I'm trying to use a flashlight to ensure I've got the safety slide right, and trying to find something on the vehicle's fuel intake to "catch" the nozzle on so as to allow fuel to dispense.  The problem is...vehicles don't have a catch like this.  So, while my life is in more danger than I've ever been while filling a lawnmower, I'm being "protected" by the safety "improvements" made to the modern fuel container.  I had to stand in that extremely dangerous position for 15 minutes rather than 3 due to this improvement.  Luckily I finally figured out a way to get the fuel from the container into the vehicle's tank without being killed. Again, ebay holds all manner of older options for those that wish to more safely dispense fuel to a standed vehicle.

I hope more consumers raise concerns about these isolated design "improvements", so we can reduce this safety sarcasm, and hopefully prevent injuries.
 

Jogging Memories

Unusually, I was the spectator, rather than participant, in a recent running/jogging/walking event.  It was refreshing to be there, and take in the buzz and energy of the event without enduring the discomfort and unease of maximum effort exercise.  It was also fun to get a full glimpse of what goes on around and within the ranks of participants, filling the full spectrum of personality.

Competing rather well in a full marathon distance run were:

Punkathon

Mennonthon (check the gent and his wife wearing jeans, boots, suspenders, backpack and requisite mustache-less beard)

Buzzathon (runner who likes to dress like a honeybee)

Poohathon / BlackedOutAnonymousManathon

Insprirathon (runners in a local charity to raise funds for clean water access in Africa)

RegularJoeathon

RunnerWithSpouseWhoWalksHisCatathon

Ninjletathon

 Watching the competitors rather than watching the stopwatch felt luxurious.  It's really a great experience to help support those undertaking the nearly impossible to succeed, knowing that humanity supports them, even as complete strangers.  It stands as one of the ever more rare situations where people drop boundaries and simply openly support others. Support for choice of clothing for certain racers was tough to give however, as the whole range of personality is exhibited in the choice of clothing for the event.  From pictures alone, one would face difficulty in determining whether it was 100 degrees outside or 10.  It would be tough to figure out what was at the end of the race as well -   A beach? A dance club? A pole barn build party?

Entertaining,surprising, impressing, inspiring...sign up for a race as a spectator soon!

The Seas Were Angry My Friend

Recently, I experienced one of those events that truly instills fear.  One that really tests you well beyond what people often experience.  An experience on that short list of times when you really haven't control over the moment, and you simply have no comfort other than reliance on your wisdom, training, and prayer.

I've spent a few decades learning the many nuances of boatsmanship, and I'll surely spend remaining decades in my life continuing to learn.  The event of Sunday, Sept 1st was one I'll never forget, and has exponentially added to my boatsmanship skill set.  This is one event that will exist in my pantheon of scariest life experiences- err, near death experiences.   Unlike the major motor vehicle accident I was in, wherein the car rolled twice and flipped end over end, this experience took more than 6.3 seconds.  This event lasted 30 minutes or so, but felt like 30 hours. 

Around 11am, my younger brother and I headed into the Atlantic mid-day under an oppressively hot and humid day.    We went in search of the sea's bounty, settling in at a little known artificial reef that often hides sharks, striped bass, Atlantic croaker, skate, sting rays, summer flounder, tautog, and other salt water species on migration.    As this area is only 50 or so feet of depth, I often anchor to hang right on top of the reef.   This day, however, I didn't do so, for no particular reason other than some internal nudge - The proverbial "gut feeling".   

We drifted with the minor wind and current, taking in the sun and reeling in a few Atlantic Croaker... 

 Noticing a bit of darkness in the sky over the land, I immediately checked the weather radar, which reported a minor area of precip a few miles southwest, but on a heading toward us.  We thought "No problem...a short shower will feel good to cool off.  20 minutes later this shower came by and it cooled things off a bit, pushing the temperature down, yet producing little rain.  

Fishing continued, and more fun was had pulling in more fish, and trying different baits and techniques. After one catch we turned to look at the sky again, feeling some wind kicking up, and noticed a much more ominous cloud, very dark and funnel-ish in shape much like the picture below.  

We began to weigh the option of returning the 5-10 miles to shore, but before we had pulled in the fishing lines, the rain really started coming down, and the winds picked up. This is when it began to get interesting, but still just little more than an inconvenience.

10 minutes later, the ocean had taken on an entirely Mr. Hyde to the Dr. Jekyll of earlier.  The wind had picked up tremendously pushing waves ever higher, but worse, it was blowing hard enough to blow sea spray into the boat and worse still, into our faces as we stood watching the situation deteriorate.  At this point, the boat was really getting pushed to it's limits of seaworthiness.   I pulled off my drenched shirt and hat, and stood in the sideways rain pelting me at 50+ miles per hour.   That hurt.  It's similar to being hit by hail or a bb gun.  And the noise...it's such a freakish noise with all that water being blown in every direction.  Watch the final sequence of The Perfect Storm and you'll get the idea.

I worked to keep the boat pointed into the waves, and did so successfully for a while although the rain and salt spray from waves was now making my vision nearly worthless, so I was really running out of scientific, skills based actions to counter the now tremendously sized waves, coming at odd frequencies, and seemingly even directions.   I had the engine running constantly, and was constantly making steering adjustments to try my best to keep the water out of the boat, although a few waves cleared the bow entirely and splashed water onto the deck.  The gps was left on during so that I had some semblance of direction and position.  Although we could clearly see the shore 30 minutes prior, it was now to the point where we couldn't see 30 feet from the boat.  During the storm I was forced to continue further to sea, so as to keep the boat from rolling over in the waves by pointing the bow directly into the waves.

There was a clear point where I became very afraid of the consequences of having to do this for much longer.  I could see the Japanese paintings of huge scary waves in my mind, and trying to remember if the ships in those made it, or were sunk. 

My vision was down to nothing, I was freezing, and the waves and wind grew larger and faster, such that something would soon cause that 1 in 10 sequence where the boat can't sustain the abuse, and a wave either rolls or floods the boat, sinking it quickly.   This was the point that silent prayer began in earnest.  I wasn't about to let my younger brother know just how grave the situation was...as he was being a trooper and staying low and out of the stinging spray as I asked.   I wasn't saying much to him, as I was concentrating on two things: prayer, and the waves.

This is the moment at which I knew there was a clear possibility that we would sink, an ever increasingly probable inevitability.  Therefore, I began to ensure I had everything down for an SOS call to the coast guard, and all we should do before abandoning the 7500 pound boat.   I was trying to recall how to figure out direction without visual reference.  Luckily, the winds began to slow, and my vision returned with that change.  Seriously, this was the first moment in about 25 minutes in which I could see anything.  Ever get sprayed directly in the face from a garden hose nozzle?  Yeah, try it for 25 minutes straight.  Eyes stinging, my vision did return, and also returning was some confidence in being able to keep us safe.   Conditions subsided further, and I was able to sigh with relief that I would be able to return my niece and nephew's dad to them.  That was really one of the scariest thoughts I had during the 30 minute ordeal. 

As the waves mellowed, my shivering and shaking due to cold and nervousness subsided.  The boat began to clear its excess water entirely, and I told my brother it was ok to stand up and look around again.   Such elation filled my shivering skull as I was able to see the shore again.   We were all smiles...adrenaline flowing, cheating death, and claiming a minor victory.   We put on some dry clothing to warm up, and returned to calmer bay waters, reflecting on the experience, and just how lucky we were to survive - keeping the catch for dinner was simply cream on top.  

So many factors could have led to that day being my last on the earth, and I truly have none to thank other than the person upstairs.  The events on the sea that day taught me once again that life is short, and fragile. One really mustn't take anything or anyone for granted. Be kind. Don't sweat the small stuff, and for damn sure, make the most of absolutely every minute.   Anyone up for a fishing trip?

Act Naturally

Often advice, a lesson, or wisdom arrives unexpectedly- in it's timing and source.  I inadvertently caught a television program recently that struck a chord, and my subsequent following has provided some great wisdom I've used in my daily life.  Any guesses?   A drama from a different era? The latest sitcom?  A psychological thriller? A "reality" show? Nope.

I've gathered great insight from some inhabitants of a faraway land...all of whom live their lives on four legs.  The BBC did an exceptional job capturing the lives of some groups of lions, cheetahs, and leopards in the Masai Mara since 1996, and titled the effort as Big Cat Diary.  

 

The documentary series captures every moment...happy, sad, triumphant, and depressing. It also details the ongoing effort to remain alive - one much less difficult for our grocery-store-no-more-than-2-miles-away human selves.   Not all humans have this luxury of course, and that's just another of life's realities highlighted in this series.  Cooperation, selflessness, trust, candor, assertiveness, mating, parenting, death, life...all are exhibited in their raw in-disguised and un-shielded view from these animals that have no ulterior motive.   Sure, these animals don't think as much perhaps, but I'd argue that human "thought" sometimes makes us act less intelligently.

In my current corporate business life, I have seen many humorous similarities.  Numerous mornings I'll watch the series as I prepare for another day on the corporate savannah, and I can't tell you how many times an incident I watched on Big Cat Diary directly mimicked a situation in a meeting room.   It's hilarious and sad at once.   Hyenas pester a lion until they get their way simply because they are endlessly annoying with their cackle and ignorance of personal space.  A cheetah mom stands its ground for her cubs, risking certain death, against two large male lions, and somehow makes it out alive. A brave leopard excels at making the kills, but seriously lacks the wisdom to stash its prize, and time and again, loses it after a few morsels.

The lessons aren't on the surface, and so you really need to bring an "Art of War" approach...breaking an interaction into fundamental components and rules.

 

There are some real parallels between human and animal behaviour that can be drawn.  I've learned to truly respect the adage about finding the greatest wisdom in the simplest of models.  You'd be hard pressed to find an animal on the savannah that wouldn't agree whole heartedly with "Life is short", "The  God lives in the details" or "There's no such thing as a free lunch".  (ha)   I hope you can mine some of the same wisdom I've taken from nature.  If nothing else, take the opportunity to learn about one of the most diverse ecologies on the planet - the African Savannah.

An Influenza laced Flyover of American Pop Clture

Too many factors couldn't be controlled in my life recently, and I came down with a nasty variant of influenza.  Whether the stress of 17 hours of travel, no sleep for an evening, being stuck in a middle seat between a sneezer and wheezer, or a stressful work day immediately thereafter the aforementioned were the ultimate primary culprit, I am now paying the price.   For those who haven't experience the flu, it's not fun.  Colds with their coughs and headaches and congestion are a relative field day compared to the additional body pains that accompany the flu, and do not accompany sleep.  Not being able to get regular sleep surely is prolonging my flu bout, but I'll just keep trying all the tricks and recommendations I've heard from all.

Anyway, while suffering the day away trying to get comfortable on a typically comfortable couch, I for once was forced to stay in, and take in current American pop culture.    I spent 6 hours in front of a TV, and found myself intrigued, shocked, dismayed, and encouraged...

1. Are Geico and Progressive insurance companies competing for the worst commericals on television?  If you want to run such trite ads, please please choose a reduced frequency.






2. Why are so many American advertisements using a British-accented voice over?   (Are we really so insipid to not catch on that a British accent doesn't make the person, or product, smarter/better?

3. Grammar is all but dead in popular culture.  I think we may have hit the tipping point where idiomatic definitions of phrases have outnumbered the actual definition. E.g. pleading the fifth (but not carrying the "because it could incriminate me"), using "could care less", instead of couldn't care less, and many more.   What saddened me most about this one was that I watched a few C-level executives speaking today, and the incorrect tense, grammar, and word choice flowed.  A few mistakes are fine, but the constant flow I noticed from two execs was dismaying

4. All collegiate BigTen university commercials are 95% identical, save for the specific logos and still shots.  Why make a very expensive commerical if it doesn't convey much of anything about that's university's experience?
Penn State's Men's Basketball team cannot play while on the road.  I viewed a crushing loss at Minnesota (who has fielded a great team this year!), making it a big fat 0-9 on the road record. Ouch...keep the heads up team.

5. T.G.I Friday's wins the award for the worst series of commercials I watched.  Their food offerings didn't seem worthy of a plate either.

6. Reality TV really has "jumped the shark".  Airtime has been given to the most uninteresting situations/people, and these shows cannot possibly go much further, so hopefully soon, rock bottom will truly be stricken, and the air will fill with entertainment or informative programs once again.  I was surprised just how low these show producers aim when aiming at the American public...Hollywood has admitted we're idiots, in large part.

7. Sex continues to be at the center of most advertising...the more things change...

8. Catherine McCormack in Braveheart was so unbelievably attractive!  No makeup, thank you very much.   Even in this medieval era film, her natural beauty flows through.

9. The truth in advertising award goes to Kleenex for their "cool touch" product...this is finally a variation on the hoary facial tissue that is truly different! Kudos, Kleenex.









So, I'm fairly certain you got little use from reading this blog entry, but perhaps it was just a wee bit more entertaining than the latest episode of Alaskan Pawn and Child Beauty Pageant.   Here's to you not contracting the flu this season!

Silver Saab Sedan Stereotype

On this day, I found three silver Saab sedans.  Each time I see a Saab at all I kinda crack a smile, sometimes only internally, but often externally, flexing all those smile muscles in my face that we heard so much about as students in physiology class.

I smile because I once inherited a run down Saab which was very good to me.  I loved that car...great power, sportiness, utility (hatchback)...in fact I loved it so much that I drove it beyond the point of typical operation.  I had little expendible cash at the time, so when the sunroof started leaking, it wasn't trade in time, it was red duct tape time (my Saab was Carmosine Red Metallic like the one below).  This car was so much fun that I continued using it when reverse stopped working, and  when the ignition wouldn't work on a hot day, requiring putting the key in ice for 5 minutes before the ignition. Even scarier, I continued my long 500 mile sprints to Boston when the engine mounts were blown out, causing crazy rattling and never knowing if the engine might just fall out somehow.   I just didn't want to see her go, but the time to sobb for the Saab came...my 9000 turbo soldiered on to 268,000 miles, when at last it left me stranded in an airport parking lot 100 miles from home- after travelling 23 hours from Australia.   This was a breaking point and so the directions for the tow truck driver had to be to the dismantler... but I surely shed a tear.  This car was special - it had a certain je ne c'est quoi - a saab-ness that made it hard to part with.

I further shed a small tear, mostly a tear of worry, when GM invested in a Saab auto spinoff (so rarely do these live up to expectations, but lawyers benefit, so. Anyway, different blog post).   GM plunged completely into Saab in 2000...or rather (I should be more precise), GM made it a wholly owned subsidiary in 2000.   The marketers at GM swore Saab wouldn't lose it's Saab-ness, but surely it was diluted year after year as more GM shared parts became part of making Saab profitable (a handicap likely brought on through the brand bruising of GM's ownership itself), but that's a long story for someone more expert than I.  Here's a video link for someone preferring to watch than read.

This blog is about those three silver Saab sedans. A different smile I get when I see a Saab is because some very good friends drive cars similar, with one friend driving one identical to the cars I saw- a silver saab sedan.  That internal smile turned to an external smile when I noted the driver of the first car - a professor type replete with beret, trimmed beard and some steampunkish oculars.  Awesome! The stereotypical Saab driver!   This made me smile for I've had much experience with Saab owners of the US Northeast, who often turned out to be professors wearing elbow patch sportcoats and beards.  I brought my case for this stereotype to a fellow auto-knowledgeable colleague in the US Midwest, and she thought I couldn't have been further from the truth...

Her case for the Saab driver stereotype was rooted in the gay / lesbian community. Except the convertibles, which were for successful professional women.  I heard plenty of this line of logic when I disclosed that I once drove a Saab.   I couldn't get a good look at the second silver Saab driver I noticed - even after racing around some traffic to get a good view.  However, I did spot a rainbow flag bumper sticker and some sort of "equal marriage for all" message on the back window.   Second stereotype...check. This is easy.

The third silver saab sedan I noticed was when I was leaving Trader Joe's, unsuccessful in finding decent grits...Southern food hankering again.  This Saab's driver blew away all stereotype's entirely- a miss so far from the stereotype mark as to cancel out any points earned in having the earlier drivers match the type.  This driver was a young man with a coiffed mohawk haircut, wearing some punk like earrings.  He was certainly enjoying the saab-ness of his car as he turbo'ed right past my anemic suv.

We often rely, or rather over-rely on stereotypes, and mass decisioning in our lives.  I would encourage you to step forward, pretend you're a Saab driver, and stand up for all that drives you individually.   Wear it proudly.   I for once, savor the smile silver Saab sedans give me...that, and alliteration.

Life and the Extension of Experience

Simple rules abound.  Behind the most complex scientific concepts are simple rules - E = mc^2.  Regardless of flavor, all religions come down to a simple rule of faith. Human relationships, often highly nuanced, boil down to a few basic rules as well.   A few interesting, obvious and absolutely simple rules of life in general recently made themselves evident to me:

1. Life is short.  This one has been handed down in many languages and short phrases through history.  Tempus Fugit, literally "time flees", but oft interpreted as "time flies", and my favorite "time's a wastin'", which I often hear Carl Smith and June Carter scolding me with.  A close relative is Carpe Diem, or "seize the day", which is the natural extension of what to do with the limited time we have on this planet.

This rule can take a while to appreciate in life.  I can imagine some who make it through a lifetime without ever realizing the depth of its wisdom.  Many find this one through the process of a "mid-life crisis" - the point at which looking wholly forward clashes first with a contemplative look backward.   This is an epic moment, a drastic epiphany, where youth graduates, and wisdom is conferred.  At this point, one stops to look both ways, like crossing a road.  Looking back, we see all that we've experienced, and just how much has occurred within a limited span.  Turning to look forward now takes on a new process - one that evolves the question of "what's next?" into "what's the next thing I want to spend limited time on".   Until this point, we were in a rush of the spontaneous road trip of life...all smiles and in the moment living, looking only forward as life's events blurred past.  But then all of a sudden, just as the rush of the road trip of life subsides just a tad, we see a road sign that reads simply "Life is short".   This gives us pause.  We look in the rear view mirror, check the odometer, and most importantly the fuel gauge.  Where next?  What should I do with the fuel I have left?  What sort of story should the rest of this road trip become?  This point in life brings many of us to the next simple rule...

2. The meaning of life is to have meaning.  Happiness, success, love, etc all come from having purpose in life.

Now realizing we've got limited time and resources, decisions about how to spend them become much more difficult.  Or does it?  Virtual experience has continued to expand through time...from second hand storytelling to written word to motion pictures to virtual reality, all dependent on the stage of development in which we reside.  An indigenous indian in the jungles of Colombia has only storytelling , while we developed world denizens have a limitless supply of Travel Channel episodes on demand.  These new channels for knowing just how wide and expansive our world is could make it more difficult to make decisions on where to go and what to do with our ever shrinking, and always fragile life.   However, I'm here to take some stress out of that decision.   Seeing and doing it all doesn't have to be the goal.   Watching and reading it all certainly doesn't provide a valid substitute, as that clearly breaks simple rule #2.

Kicking off with a well tuned imagination, we can effect an experience through our real experiences that are closely related.  Imagination can take actual experience and sort of graft it onto a new setting or context.  Kind of like a merger of the real and virtual or develop an experience that closely resembles an actual experience, yet without the spontaneous interruptions.  High Definition video really helped make this possible, as now you can experience more than center stage.  Between HD clarity and wide cameras, we can a close approximation of the real experience.

Before you stop reading this seemingly suspect line of logic, I'll prove it.  If you've ever had a dream, your brain has followed this exact process without your express permission.  You dreamt of a scene that likely involved you doing things you've never done in places you've never been.   So, if it works while sleeping, why not make it work while awake?   Certainly, this is not an excuse to lay on the couch and daydream, as only real experience provides life meaning.  However, it does allow one to take some of the less important real experiences off the list of "life to-do's" so we can make wise decisions, under less duress, about which real experiences we want to pursue.  If you need more proof, take a read of this New Yorker article.  Then, get started on your next life experience, real or effected, immediately because as even Mr. T knows, Tempus Fugit!

Summons to Scholarship

Not so many years have passed since I attended university that I can't recall at least some things from that era.  Although close friends can recall numerous embarrassing comical adventures that found me during that time, I've lately been reflecting on the words inscribed on the main uni library:  "The library is a summons to scholarship".  

Matched with another snippet of wisdom (aren't the best quotes the short and simple ones?) - "Education's best result is questioning", which I heard early in my college career from a professor.  A psychology professor.   Many people have argued over the centuries on the topic of the core area of study that best supports humanity.  Scientists go further and debate amongst themselves about which is the "central science".  However, I'll make the case for psychology... 

Psychology certainly ties back to Education's best result.   Nothing brings up more questions than amateurly applying psychology to understand peoples' motives, actions, words, and expressions.   Even more questions can be raised and pondered when one tries to apply psychology to analyze complete strangers.  In most amateurish form, this is the classic game of guess the guest, where one makes an attempt to figure out the life context of someone with nothing more than a glance.  Hardly scholarship, but it does exercise the memory of those 75 minute lectures of psychology 101, and also uses any "wisdom" accrued to help better understand the anthropologic logic unfolding before my eyes.  And it's fun...especially when you actually meet the person/people in question and get to confirm or deny any guesses.

It's important to understand that I would never consider using any conjecture to judge, but rather simply to exercise the brain a bit.   In recent days I've been in some unfamilar settings, with cultural norms different to mine, and with time to ponder, all of which has provided a wealth of opportunties to question, answer, and question the answers.   Not taken scientifically, these observations and interactions provide a great bit of fun, as I learn about what makes the folks in this area "tick", and at what pace they "tick tock".   

Furthering the exploration is finding a whole new sub-culture, complete with it's own dialect.   This raised so many questions, which felt almost like a Christmas gift in a way.  Luckily, I was in an area rich with information about the culture and traditions so I wasn't left longing.   The historical path of just this Gullah/Geechee sub-culture alone is so deeply fascinating - although many don't really even know of it's existence, it has had a major impact on their own history in various ways.   What went through the minds of the people who were part of the origination of this culture?  Or, what goes through the mind of someone far removed from it, when they hear the first ever description of it?   These questions are equally important, in my mind, to questions of dates and places of origin - the SAT question stuff.

So, what's the point of this blog entry?   I can't exactly answer that just yet, but I can certainly ask the questions.   Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to all.  

Pain that's not Pain

I purposely put myself in the path of pain this past weekend.  However, pain found me in more ways than I expected, and interestingly some pain can serve to counter other pain.  Ok, enough use of the word pain for a bit.

Myself, and 4000 others raced through the beautiful wilderness of northern Michigan for 30 miles on mountain bikes.  Northern Michigan in November isn't typically warm, and this day was no exception - it was 31 degrees (F) that morning, and remained below 33 all day.  I suppose they were serious when titling the race "Iceman Cometh". A partly baked weather forecast for partly sunny skies parted ways around 9am, and snowflakes began falling.  Take cold, add wet, and mountain biking really gets interesting.  During the race, which I did next to zero to prepare for, I went through all sorts of pain, but wonderfully, pain often gave way to joy...

A fast start is often a good strategy in a mountain bike race. That is, unless your legs are cold, and out of shape.  In this case, a fast start is a painful strategy.  Lactic acid, heart rate, burning muscles...you know it as well as I.  At this point, Pain 2 (cold, muscles); Joy 0

Approximately 2 miles into the race, the course finally took a turn into the woods on a single track trail rather than winding on dirt around high schools and fields.   This was welcome since the advantage the in-shape guys were flaunting on me was about to give way to a section that required riding skill, rather than fitness.  I took some joy in immediately passing some chaps on the tight and windy track who had passed me seconds earlier on the flat and open spots.  They were likely more experienced at road cycling, where the fitness and high-cadence pedaling win races regularly. (with the aid of doping).   Pain 2; Joy 1 (skills matter!)

The snow began falling while in the treed section, and the thick, heavy, wet snowdrops came down almost like large soaked cotton balls.   Unusual snow, but very pretty.  However, the wetness on the earthen trail started the mud a-flyin' - not great when you have riders directly in front of you and your mouth must stay open to suck in the copious amount of oxygen needed to keep from falling over.  Pain 3 (dirt in mouth); Joy 2 (awesome snowfall)

The snow continued beautifully falling as the trails became more vertically challenging.  One interesting chemistry/meteorological event that started going on was this mashup of snow, ice, sand, and mud.  The mix exhibited properties very close to velcro!  Tires were virtually sticking to the ground, not rolling with normal ease.  When the ground did let go of one's tires, they were left packed with a layer of this mix, making them much heavier than normal.   Pain 4 (heavy tires, velcro ground); Joy 2.

I continued to trade race places with a few guys that were clearly more adept at the pedaling part (probably road cyclists) as we transitioned between open stretches and single track trails that rewarded bike handling.  This was fun, but really getting old, especially as one of the guys I couldn't shake was really annoying in the way he announced his intent to pass.   Every time he passed me he yelled out "ON YOUR LEFT!!!" incredibly loudly, as if a meteor was about to wipe out Will Smith and the planet.   An uncalled for, blood-curdling scream that gave me concern, and nearly shook me from my bike (perhaps that was the plan?).   Somehow, for reasons I cannot explain, the "affliction" style of clothing made it to cycling gear before everyone realized how terrible it was.  And the guy in front of me was proudly wearing one of the affliction style bike jerseys.  It was such a rediculous look that it gave me pain...but it was a good kind of pain, so that notched the joy count up one.  Pain 4, Joy 3 (don't mess with one's dress)

Soldiering on, I "hit the wall", what's called "bonking" in the cycling world.  Recall my admission of non-preparedness?  I was seriously debilitated by the pain in my muscles...so much so that really all I could muster was keeping them going around using the "granny" gear on the bike. This has only happened to me twice in my life...not fun.  As my pace slowed, I knew this race wouldn't be a great showing, but I was determined to finish, and doubly determined to not get off the bike.  Already, a few tricky parts and near accidents allowed me to show off my 25 years of mountain biking experience to simply stay on the bike.  I noticed so many off their bikes at different times - not able to climb hills, taking a rest, stopping for the water stations, walking it over tough parts, etc.  I didn't.  I mustered all the balance between my inner ears to stay upright and not stop.   Each time I managed this where all others failed, I won a little.  Pain 5 (riding up the steep sandy bits was extreeeemly hard); Joy 4 (little wins)

I was now nearly 90 minutes into this epic race, and due to my legs' condition, I was really starting to think about "how much further!?" Inside my head were a pair of 4 year olds asking "how much further, how much further!!?"  I noticed a sign on a tree and then another.  On each were large numbers.  Yes, the numbers were large in size but my mind, numb from the cold, took a few seconds to register how high the numbers were.  WHOA! 24??!!  What. 30 miles, and I'm only 6 miles in! That's BS!!  A few other profanities flew, I'm sure.  I couldn't believe it...and started dreaming up reasons why it would be wrong. Was it numbered in reverse, as in 24 down, 6 more to go?  Was it some permanent sign used for snowmobiling and had nothing to do with the race?  I asked a rider in front of me that had the mack daddy of electronic gizmo's going "How far are we into this mess so far?"   "15.1 miles" came back the response.  Ahh, 24 kilometers. Through the rest of the race, I saw the kilometer signs, and although now I knew, I still couldn't conjure up the equation to convert it.  Luckily, I could see the car speedometer, so I had a rough idea of the remaining torture. Pain 5.5 (.5 for the temporary pain of confusion); Joy 5 (I'm halfway!)

The trail got snowier, more twisty, and even more encouraging.  As the final miles approached, more and more spectators lined the trails cheering, cowbelling (more cowbell!), and even someone that oddly knew my name yelled out...all of which restores a broken spirit.  The ultimate lift came in that last 100 meters, as I cranked out the last bits of energy from the furthest reaches of my body to sprint to the finish line.  I did it!!!

Pain 6 (another .5 for that sprint at the end); Joy 6 (I finished!)

It felt so awesome to finish this thing, that really felt like one of the most strenuous athletic events I've ever done.  Moreso than 100 miles in 100 degrees on a road bike. Moreso than 20 miles running. Moreso than shoveling stone for 12 hours.  The personal kudos was great, but a personal congrats from someone close put the feeling over the top.   Pain - what pain? it's all been forgotten and converted to joy;  Joy - more than can be counted.

Pushing oneself to accomplish things that feel insurmountable is an incredible ability of the human spirit.  It requires faith, hard work, diligence, and focus, but when it comes together, the reward is...priceless.  I hope you find something like my race soon in your own life.

ps. Reflecting on my particular skill set in the race (bike handling, and downhill parts) versus just plain speed, I think I may look into downhill racing in the future.   Makes sense...it's huge in Scotland after all.