So the other day I was out riding around my usual evening stomping ground of Chesterfield Valley. As the sun sank, I found myself proceeding eastbound on the Monarch Levee Trail, nary a pedestrian or fellow cyclist in sight. Approaching one of the gravel road crossings, I noticed a maroon Toyota Highlander moving towards the trail on the gravel road. Oddly, he pulled off and parked at the foot of the levee, on the grass, parallel to my direction of travel. As I drew alongside, the roar of an engine alerted me to odd happenings. The Highlander was pacing me! I was cruising along at a brisk 20mph. Thinking that perhaps the SUV driver was trying to figure out how fast (or slow) I was going by pacing me, I naturally nailed it. Accelerated up to around 28mph, the SUV engine roaring anew to keep pace. Over about 200m or so I drifted down to 25mph, not deigning to look over at the SUV, which I could no longer hear. Fortified by fear that perhaps the SUV driver meant to launch onto the trail proper and run me down - I was a cylist and it was a big powerful cyclist-mashing SUV after all - I proceeded at that pace to the next big metal posts in the trail, maybe 1/3 - 1/2 mile along.
Why would an SUV pace a bicycle, on grass? Why would he accelerate to match me, then drop back? Very mysterious.
I proceeded down to the ice rink, then deciding there was enough light for another lap, I turned back. The SUV was back on the gravel road where I'd initially spotted him, moving again towards the trail crossing. I slowed, because there are "Yield" signs on the trail. He stopped at the foot of the levee, still on the road. I proceeded, with a friendly wave. The driver waved back. That was the last we saw of each other.
Weird. Perhaps it was one of the creepy statues come to life and out for a joyride?
August 24, 2009
August 20, 2009
Tales of the TeMo
You may be wondering, how did this rivalry between Brian and the TeMo evolve? Well it's a long and painful story, my friend. Pull up a chair and I'll tell you.
It all started many years ago, when the TeMo was first emerging into the world. It was a ferocious beast, hastily engineered and programmed to compete with the multichannel dominance of the Biomek FX. Tecan, being a Swiss company, normally builds finely crafted, exquisitely engineered robots. The TeMo was a little rough around the edges. Or should I say razor sharp? Be that as it may, I was among the first U.S. service engineers dispatched to Switzerland to train on them. Possibly even the very first.
The TeMo made its move early. While lifting the monstrously heavy beast out of its shipping crate, one of the four lifters slipped, and the TeMo teetered towards the hapless soul threatening to crush him under its mighty mass. Fortunately, the other three of us were able to restrain its ferocious assault until the man was able to regain his footing.
Later that day, as we disassembled the TeMo, one of my kind Swiss hosts calmly pointed out to me: "You're bleeding." And lo, it was so. Not just any cut. A deep, razor sharp gash across the entire palm of my hand. The TeMo innards were so sharp, it had sliced me open like a scalpel and I hadn't even felt it. Blood was streaming from the wound. Being a tough American, and not wanting to appear weak in front of the Swiss, I merely wrapped the cut in a paper towel and squeezed my palm until the blood stopped. Which took the rest of the day. The TeMo literally drew first blood in our epic years-long struggle.
A few months later, back in the U.S., I was called upon to install the first TeMo to be sold in the Midwest region. Up near Madison, WI. Although it did not manage to physically injure me, I struggled to make it work. It taunted me. The software then was a little primitive, and it didn't help that I didn't have the specialized tools required for the job. Eventually I got it working, but it required Herculean effort and every ounce of brain power and patience I could muster. And then a little bit more.
All was quiet between me and the TeMo for many years. I moved on, as did it. Its software improved, razor-sharp edges were dulled for safety, vast strides were made. Until that fateful day when I met the TeMo again. Not all of its claws had been removed, and it remembered me. Remembered the taste of blood. It still had powerful motors, blazing speed, and no regard for human life. It attacked me, and I was too slow to avoid its headlong rush. Too many years dealing with calm, docile robots had dulled my reflexes.
I am humble enough to admit I've never fully mastered the TeMo. I'm a little afraid of it. The electronics bewilder me, the command set eludes me, its speed and power intimidate me. I don't intuitively grasp how to teach it where it needs to go. I can muddle through, but it's not easy for me.
I can only hope, being a mostly peaceful man, that the TeMo and I can find a happy middle ground. Wary of each other, certainly. But no longer lusting for blood and/or seized bearings and cooked motors. I'll be keeping my eye on you, TeMo.
It all started many years ago, when the TeMo was first emerging into the world. It was a ferocious beast, hastily engineered and programmed to compete with the multichannel dominance of the Biomek FX. Tecan, being a Swiss company, normally builds finely crafted, exquisitely engineered robots. The TeMo was a little rough around the edges. Or should I say razor sharp? Be that as it may, I was among the first U.S. service engineers dispatched to Switzerland to train on them. Possibly even the very first.
The TeMo made its move early. While lifting the monstrously heavy beast out of its shipping crate, one of the four lifters slipped, and the TeMo teetered towards the hapless soul threatening to crush him under its mighty mass. Fortunately, the other three of us were able to restrain its ferocious assault until the man was able to regain his footing.
Later that day, as we disassembled the TeMo, one of my kind Swiss hosts calmly pointed out to me: "You're bleeding." And lo, it was so. Not just any cut. A deep, razor sharp gash across the entire palm of my hand. The TeMo innards were so sharp, it had sliced me open like a scalpel and I hadn't even felt it. Blood was streaming from the wound. Being a tough American, and not wanting to appear weak in front of the Swiss, I merely wrapped the cut in a paper towel and squeezed my palm until the blood stopped. Which took the rest of the day. The TeMo literally drew first blood in our epic years-long struggle.
A few months later, back in the U.S., I was called upon to install the first TeMo to be sold in the Midwest region. Up near Madison, WI. Although it did not manage to physically injure me, I struggled to make it work. It taunted me. The software then was a little primitive, and it didn't help that I didn't have the specialized tools required for the job. Eventually I got it working, but it required Herculean effort and every ounce of brain power and patience I could muster. And then a little bit more.
All was quiet between me and the TeMo for many years. I moved on, as did it. Its software improved, razor-sharp edges were dulled for safety, vast strides were made. Until that fateful day when I met the TeMo again. Not all of its claws had been removed, and it remembered me. Remembered the taste of blood. It still had powerful motors, blazing speed, and no regard for human life. It attacked me, and I was too slow to avoid its headlong rush. Too many years dealing with calm, docile robots had dulled my reflexes.
I am humble enough to admit I've never fully mastered the TeMo. I'm a little afraid of it. The electronics bewilder me, the command set eludes me, its speed and power intimidate me. I don't intuitively grasp how to teach it where it needs to go. I can muddle through, but it's not easy for me.
I can only hope, being a mostly peaceful man, that the TeMo and I can find a happy middle ground. Wary of each other, certainly. But no longer lusting for blood and/or seized bearings and cooked motors. I'll be keeping my eye on you, TeMo.
Me vs. the Robot, part II
I had cause to work on my arch-nemesis the TeMo again today. You know, the one that attacked me? Gouging a nice furrow in my skull and causing a mild concussion? Well we had at it again today - man vs. robot. I am pleased to report that I managed to fix its broken ass, and it did not so much as scratch me. TeMo: 1; Brian: 1. It's go time for the tiebreaker! I've got my bandages ready. You want some of this, TeMo? Come and get it...
Mind you, the TeMo is perfectly docile and user-friendly in normal operation. Until you start removing parts to work on it...then the claws come out.
Mind you, the TeMo is perfectly docile and user-friendly in normal operation. Until you start removing parts to work on it...then the claws come out.
August 19, 2009
Vintage Bikes and Funny Emails
A guy I know who is in the business of providing people with bicycles and other goods, just inquired if I had any big road bikes to sell. Because I'm tall, you know. It's true that my hovel is choc-a-bloc with bikes...most of which were constructed when "Flock of Seagulls" was spankin' new. His reply when I stated what was available was funny: "...house full of my dad's road bikes."
Steel is real! Sure it may be a little heavy, and a little flexible, and it might rust a bit...but man it's smoooooooth. Like the Town Car of bicycles. And yes downtube shifters might be a little hazardous to use when going around corners...or up hills...or ever. Maybe the wheels aren't exactly "straight" or "round" but they do alright. Those 12 or 14 speeds might require you to stray from your maximally-efficient cadence from time to time, and the brakes may stop working at any moment.
I mean what part of "original SunTour parts, downtube shifters, 7 speed" is not exciting?
What was my point? Anyway, I have old bikes.
Steel is real! Sure it may be a little heavy, and a little flexible, and it might rust a bit...but man it's smoooooooth. Like the Town Car of bicycles. And yes downtube shifters might be a little hazardous to use when going around corners...or up hills...or ever. Maybe the wheels aren't exactly "straight" or "round" but they do alright. Those 12 or 14 speeds might require you to stray from your maximally-efficient cadence from time to time, and the brakes may stop working at any moment.
I mean what part of "original SunTour parts, downtube shifters, 7 speed" is not exciting?
What was my point? Anyway, I have old bikes.
August 16, 2009
Dehydration = bad
I'm not a fan of dehydration. First, it makes it hard to pedal a bike. But that's really secondary. What I dislike most about it, is how thirsty you are for the entire freaking day after a lengthy, high-temperature ride. I've consumed at least a gallon of various beverages (Diet Coke, Hawaiian Punch, 7-up, strawberry milk, water, Gatorade) since the end of today's ride, and I'm still thirsty! But my stomach is full to bursting. So even though I want to drink, I'm afraid to. A burst stomach can't be good for you.
Managed to slip between two major thunderstorm cells today. There was one to the east, and one to the west. Lightning, curtains of rain, the whole shebang. Nothing where I was, except wind. Towards the end of the ride, energy flagging from dehydration, the wind shifted and the temperature dropped. I hightailed it home, but the rain never showed.
Although I knew I'd be dehydrated riding today (still dehydrated from yesterday, after all) I went anyhow. And as it happens, it was a good move. Forecast for the week looks pretty storm-intensive. I don't mind riding in the rain so much, but lightning makes me twitchy. Get it? Twitchy? Tough crowd.
Managed to slip between two major thunderstorm cells today. There was one to the east, and one to the west. Lightning, curtains of rain, the whole shebang. Nothing where I was, except wind. Towards the end of the ride, energy flagging from dehydration, the wind shifted and the temperature dropped. I hightailed it home, but the rain never showed.Although I knew I'd be dehydrated riding today (still dehydrated from yesterday, after all) I went anyhow. And as it happens, it was a good move. Forecast for the week looks pretty storm-intensive. I don't mind riding in the rain so much, but lightning makes me twitchy. Get it? Twitchy? Tough crowd.
August 11, 2009
Great ride
Some days, you just have a great ride. You don't plan it, you don't know it's going to happen - it just appears all by itself. Today was a great ride. The semi-regular Tuesday meeting at Babler of some MS150 folks and/or coworkers. To be honest, I almost ditched. Poor sleep last night, frustrating day at work, total lack of energy and 30 minutes late when I got home. But I headed out anyway. My ride started pretty lethargic - my computer shared the mood as it refused to work. I pedaled around hoping to meet up despite my tardiness. Soon enough, I encountered Mike D. Then we came across John S. and Jerry C. Shortly thereafter Mike's wife arrived. We chatted for a bit then resumed riding. Mike and wife peeled off to head home; John, Jerry and I continued around the tortuous Babler loops. My computer decided to start working, and I also started to feel pretty good. Good enough that I made it up the climbs without excessive trouble, mustered a couple of "attacks", and generally rode with a decent degree of dignity rather than struggling and straining just to hang on.
The greatness of the ride dawned on me about halfway through. I had energy, the grind of work had washed away, it was hot but not suffocating, and the Trek was nicely orange. Days like these really put an exclamation point on why I love cycling.
Oh - and I took some phone pics of the freaky statues/aliens over the weekend. Once I roust myself to get the pictures from my phone to my computer, I will share them in their bizarre and unsettling horror. Why Chesterfield chooses to install statues rather than repair terrible roads (Chesterfield Parkway, Baxter, I'm looking at YOU!) is beyond me, but there it is.
The greatness of the ride dawned on me about halfway through. I had energy, the grind of work had washed away, it was hot but not suffocating, and the Trek was nicely orange. Days like these really put an exclamation point on why I love cycling.
Oh - and I took some phone pics of the freaky statues/aliens over the weekend. Once I roust myself to get the pictures from my phone to my computer, I will share them in their bizarre and unsettling horror. Why Chesterfield chooses to install statues rather than repair terrible roads (Chesterfield Parkway, Baxter, I'm looking at YOU!) is beyond me, but there it is.
August 8, 2009
Wind Noise
Yesterday, by the last remaining light of day, I was out riding on the Monarch Levee Trail. The wind was howling at 10-12mph out of the SSE, sparse traffic on the trail. Perfect for a little experiment I've been wanting to do. I stuffed my Shure SE115 noise-blocking headphones in my ears, cranked up some Audioslave, and hammered into the (cross)wind. It felt weird, and somewhat nerve-wracking, to not be able to hear what was going on around me. But the relief from wind noise was profound. I didn't go any faster, but the "psychological pressure" of battling through the wind was gone....I could maintain a given speed longer. I wish there was some way to cancel the wind noise, but still hear motorists barreling down on you.
In other news, another creepy Chesterfield fake-person has appeared. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOME! Yes that's right, they're getting closer. If you find yourself driving by the Chesterfield City Hall, look at the nice fountain/pond out front. Is that a person standing there fishing? No, it's a freaky alternate-reality zombie cyborg statue from beyond the 9th dimension! Don't worry, though. I'm keeping my eye on them. For the safety of humanity.
In other news, another creepy Chesterfield fake-person has appeared. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOME! Yes that's right, they're getting closer. If you find yourself driving by the Chesterfield City Hall, look at the nice fountain/pond out front. Is that a person standing there fishing? No, it's a freaky alternate-reality zombie cyborg statue from beyond the 9th dimension! Don't worry, though. I'm keeping my eye on them. For the safety of humanity.
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