January has afforded me the opportunity to use the snow blower I bought from a former neighbor who was looking to downsize. It's a good one, big, but not too big, powerful enough, easy to maneuver. But there is one fact about using the snow blower that I just can't stand.
No matter which way I aim the "directional discharge chute", the g@dd@mn snow blows right back in my face. It's like I'm being filmed for an episode of "America's Most Annoyed!" a show that surreptitiously films people failing at doing menial tasks.
I hear the neighbors, sitting in their large woolen sweaters, cupping a warm cup of something, looking out the window, snickering. Cackling. Guffawing at the expense of my displeasure. At least I imagine they are doing that, because that tableau jibes with my strongly held view that the universe exists because of, and surrounds only me.
If that were the case, of course the snow would cooperate. Actually, we would have to go much more deeply than that. There would be no snow. Yes, if I could fashion the universe, there would be no cataclysm, there would be no discomfort. There would be no television shows that starred Peter Scolari.
So in spite of my grandiose delusions, I am just a shlub getting "whitewashed" every time I run the snow thrower.
But isn't that life? In alternate universes, a less prosperous me has a backache from hefting snow, because a machine to do the work is an unobtainable decadence. In still another, the machine picks up a piece of decaying blacktop from the driveway and jets it with spectacular force through the next door neighbor's window. I imagine it's possible there is a universe where my cosmic doppelganger is a reedy go-getter who shovels because he, (gulp), WANTS TO!
All this being said and I am still me, living in my reality. Right now my reality is putting the snow clothes back on for the second, (and likely not last), time today and go blow this motherloving snow off my driveway and into my face!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The Car Show That Wasn't, Then Was After All
"I can still go," came the plaintive text from Greg after he read my previous blentry about missing the car show. I had just resigned myself to my fate when that text came through and I began to feel hope all over again.
"Sweet," I said, "I'll come over earlier than planned on Sunday and we can make it for the last day!"
The show was still slammed, deep into the afternoon of the last day of the show. I think that bodes well for the industry and for Detroit in general. I have included here some photos of the new Corvette, which I found particularly fetching.
The front end run through some filters to accentuate the light reflections.The hood vent, which I found detracting in photos vaguely recalls the shape of the new "Crossed Flags Insignia", which has been the hallmark of Corvette throughout its life, though in many iterations.
The headlights are perfectly sized and highly contoured, like the fenders in which they sit. Those fenders by the way have very complex creases that look expensive to mold in the composite SMC material that makes them up.
Triangular nodes that stick out at the bottom of the front airdam are mandated for pedestrian safety. "Sweep the leg," anyone?
The rear (and most controversial angle) rendered black and white with a some additional clarity added to the "squeem" of light that I captured entirely accidentally while fighting the throng of people, iPhones outstretched all trying to get pictures to add to their blogs.
I want to hate the rear end treatment because it goes against Corvette canon, (Corvettes have had four round or roundel shaped headlights since 1961).
At first glance, I called it "Cormaro", because it is highly evocative of the current Camaro, which is supposed to be down market from the halo car, Corvette. The Camaro is supposed to aspire to be the Corvette, not the other way around.
I imagine it is to bring the Corvette styling into the fold with other Chevy cars, which are finally, after eons of being designed by committee starting to carry a unified styling theme.Like it or not, it is a Chevrolet rear-end treatment, without a doubt.
In spite of all my ranting, I don't hate it and it is well integrated into the overall design. It makes sense to change form to improve function, rather than doggedly sticking to a played-out esthetic for the sake of tradition. I begrudgingly accept.
An up close detail shot of some of the intricacies of the body shaping. In person, these nuances are much more pronounced. This is by far the most complex Corvette ever in terms of panel shaping and surface detail. Extractor vent seen on rear fender is functional, not fake.
Note the very top of the picture, you can see the white waistband of a teen boy wearing white athletic shorts and a red t-shirt. He was across from us, hands in pocket the whole time, so he ended up in every shot Greg and I took. Later, while cropping and processing the photos, we were inconsolable because he just sticks out in high contrast compared to the rest of the crowd, which tended to collectively be a sort of amorphous grey background. Had we been paying attention, we would have repositioned so this "photobomber" was not a factor. As such, we did not and he is now an integral part of our memories, both real and photographed.
My "Best Looking Concept" car award goes to the Acura NSX. Photos courtesy of Greg Gruley.
Hard to see the stylized flying butress C/D pillar, which stands proud of the greenhouse and doubles as a spoiler, managing the air flow around the back end without resorting to additional appendages. Very classy, efficient and race-car like.
This car is sculpted tightly. There is not one ounce of fat nor any accoutrement that could be considered superfluous. This car is very evocative of Acura's established design language, except in this case, the execution is brilliant and universally praiseworthy. Not something that can be said for Acura, historically.
Close up view of the front surface treatments. The front and rear of the car are completely cohesive. While many of the elements seen here could never make it to production because of pedestrian safety requirements and some other federal laws, the finished product could still come to market looking not terribly different. That would be a wonderful thing.
After the show, we dined at a local Detroit legend Traffic Jam and Snug, which I heard of watching "Diners Drive-Ins and Dives" on Food Network. It sports the most unassuming facade, you would never know it is capacious inside, decked out like an old log cabin filled to the rim with chotchkies and memorabiliae from.
Service was good. Dinner was excellent. Greg was very happy with his house-brewed wheat beer and Chicken Marsala, and I with my Delmonico Steak and asparagus.
We got home before the ice started falling from the sky like a plague and split a bottle of Asti left over from the new year.
Greg and I have known each other for going on 20 years and this is the first time we have gone to the car show, just the two of us. Good people, good show, good food.
Good day!
"Sweet," I said, "I'll come over earlier than planned on Sunday and we can make it for the last day!"
The show was still slammed, deep into the afternoon of the last day of the show. I think that bodes well for the industry and for Detroit in general. I have included here some photos of the new Corvette, which I found particularly fetching.
The headlights are perfectly sized and highly contoured, like the fenders in which they sit. Those fenders by the way have very complex creases that look expensive to mold in the composite SMC material that makes them up.
Triangular nodes that stick out at the bottom of the front airdam are mandated for pedestrian safety. "Sweep the leg," anyone?
The rear (and most controversial angle) rendered black and white with a some additional clarity added to the "squeem" of light that I captured entirely accidentally while fighting the throng of people, iPhones outstretched all trying to get pictures to add to their blogs.
I want to hate the rear end treatment because it goes against Corvette canon, (Corvettes have had four round or roundel shaped headlights since 1961).
At first glance, I called it "Cormaro", because it is highly evocative of the current Camaro, which is supposed to be down market from the halo car, Corvette. The Camaro is supposed to aspire to be the Corvette, not the other way around.
I imagine it is to bring the Corvette styling into the fold with other Chevy cars, which are finally, after eons of being designed by committee starting to carry a unified styling theme.Like it or not, it is a Chevrolet rear-end treatment, without a doubt.
In spite of all my ranting, I don't hate it and it is well integrated into the overall design. It makes sense to change form to improve function, rather than doggedly sticking to a played-out esthetic for the sake of tradition. I begrudgingly accept.
Note the very top of the picture, you can see the white waistband of a teen boy wearing white athletic shorts and a red t-shirt. He was across from us, hands in pocket the whole time, so he ended up in every shot Greg and I took. Later, while cropping and processing the photos, we were inconsolable because he just sticks out in high contrast compared to the rest of the crowd, which tended to collectively be a sort of amorphous grey background. Had we been paying attention, we would have repositioned so this "photobomber" was not a factor. As such, we did not and he is now an integral part of our memories, both real and photographed.
My "Best Looking Concept" car award goes to the Acura NSX. Photos courtesy of Greg Gruley.
Hard to see the stylized flying butress C/D pillar, which stands proud of the greenhouse and doubles as a spoiler, managing the air flow around the back end without resorting to additional appendages. Very classy, efficient and race-car like.
Service was good. Dinner was excellent. Greg was very happy with his house-brewed wheat beer and Chicken Marsala, and I with my Delmonico Steak and asparagus.
We got home before the ice started falling from the sky like a plague and split a bottle of Asti left over from the new year.
Greg and I have known each other for going on 20 years and this is the first time we have gone to the car show, just the two of us. Good people, good show, good food.
Good day!
Friday, January 25, 2013
Poker... I damn near killed her
I played poker last night with a group of guys who have become friends through my friend, Jason. I wouldn't have known any of these guys were it not for that mutual association, but over the past couple years, I suppose I have burrowed enough into their group that I can be considered "one of them."
That means I'm on the low end of the totem pole so to speak, not having been there for years and years of stories and inside jokes. I circumvent that by dominating the conversation and making everything about me. That's how you win friends, right?
Moving on.
I have missed poker several times in a row because of my erratic, (yet somehow at the same time consistent), travel schedule. I was delighted to be able to respond "yes" to this week's game, held last night at Karl's house, our de facto venue.
The long and the short is, I have only finished in the money one time. The rest of the time I have been a loser. One time, I was first out on an Ace-high straight and lost to a flush that I just didn't see. I lost to Jason, who was also my ride, which meant I was thrust into the enviable and highly esteemed position of "all-time dealer" for the rest of the night. Did I say enviable and esteemed? I meant dreaded and lamentable.
Last night, I tried to outlast Eric, whose pile of chips was about equal to mine. Problem was, my cards went cold a couple hands before his and he outlasted me - By one hand. I missed the money by one hand. And because Karl said so at the beginning of the night, (remember, it's Karl's house, so we kinda let him make up stuff at-will so we have somewhere to play)," 4th is in charge of food next time", I didn't get any money, AND I have more responsibility.
In short, it was kinda like my last 'promotion'. And the one before that, come to think of it. I need a career counselor.
Moving on.
And because it was Jason's turn to drive, (kinda, but not really since we hadn't discussed it, but we had been switching on and off and it was his turn), and he bugged out at the last minute, I didn't even drink. So there I was. Defeated. Sober. Tired.
But, I couldn't have that much fun at the bar for $20.00.And because it's a friendly game with friendly people in a friendly environment, it doesn't really matter who wins or loses, or who spills what on whom. Someone almost always spills something on someone. What matters is that we have an excuse other than sports to hang out. A lot of these guys golf together in the summer. I avoid golf courses like whores avoid church.
But we have poker. Win, lose or draw, it's always a good time.
That means I'm on the low end of the totem pole so to speak, not having been there for years and years of stories and inside jokes. I circumvent that by dominating the conversation and making everything about me. That's how you win friends, right?
Moving on.
I have missed poker several times in a row because of my erratic, (yet somehow at the same time consistent), travel schedule. I was delighted to be able to respond "yes" to this week's game, held last night at Karl's house, our de facto venue.
The long and the short is, I have only finished in the money one time. The rest of the time I have been a loser. One time, I was first out on an Ace-high straight and lost to a flush that I just didn't see. I lost to Jason, who was also my ride, which meant I was thrust into the enviable and highly esteemed position of "all-time dealer" for the rest of the night. Did I say enviable and esteemed? I meant dreaded and lamentable.
Last night, I tried to outlast Eric, whose pile of chips was about equal to mine. Problem was, my cards went cold a couple hands before his and he outlasted me - By one hand. I missed the money by one hand. And because Karl said so at the beginning of the night, (remember, it's Karl's house, so we kinda let him make up stuff at-will so we have somewhere to play)," 4th is in charge of food next time", I didn't get any money, AND I have more responsibility.
In short, it was kinda like my last 'promotion'. And the one before that, come to think of it. I need a career counselor.
Moving on.
And because it was Jason's turn to drive, (kinda, but not really since we hadn't discussed it, but we had been switching on and off and it was his turn), and he bugged out at the last minute, I didn't even drink. So there I was. Defeated. Sober. Tired.
But, I couldn't have that much fun at the bar for $20.00.And because it's a friendly game with friendly people in a friendly environment, it doesn't really matter who wins or loses, or who spills what on whom. Someone almost always spills something on someone. What matters is that we have an excuse other than sports to hang out. A lot of these guys golf together in the summer. I avoid golf courses like whores avoid church.
But we have poker. Win, lose or draw, it's always a good time.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Car Show That Wasn't
There have been more than a few failed attempts at blog posts over the past couple months. I am unhappy about not committing more to consistent posts, but I've always thought if you nice people were going to take the time to read, I may as well be somewhat happy with what I wrote.
And I have just been... drained.
Inherently introverted, the holidays, which now seem like distant echoes of a once familiar song, drain me. On top of that fact, I have also been immersed in a large couple of large projects at work that have stolen my ability to focus on anything else. In short, same old shit I always say when I haven't blogged for awhile.
A little Debby Downer moment, if you please - Life is just not that happy and exciting to write about now. No, it's nothing serious. No, it's nothing that won't be in my rear-view before too long. But right now, its more long sighs and fatigue than it is laughter and manic energy.
Take the car show. Emily loves the car show. Dave loves the car show. Greg humors Emily, Dave and I and is a good sport when we four go to the car show. This is a typically annually ritual, though not strictly annual. Sometimes we can't all go so we don't all go. But surely I go and usually Dave. We are the stallwarts.
Greg has been so busy he forgot about it, Em couldn't work with my travel schedule. That left Dave and I. The staunchest of the car show fans in our world. We made plans to go on Tuesday afternoon, after work. Him, after a long day of doing a job he doesn't love, and me at the end of a long day facing a looming deadline the following morning.
Did I mention the high temperature was 8? Yes. 8. Degrees. Farenheit. That's not a lot of degrees.
Planning to meet at 4:30, I got a text at quarter-of-three from Dave. "How keen are you about the car show?"
I wanted to write back - "Very keen! Keen, keen the car show machine!" Instead, I wrote back what I really felt, "meh."
And because we were both exhausted. And because as Dave so eloquently put it, "I just don't feel like walking five blocks on the coldest day of the year (of course!) only to get norovirus the second I touch the door handle and have to jockey around a million people who are in my way so I can't see all the cars I want but won't ever be able to buy."
It was, without question, an excellent argument, and I was, without question not going to argue against. Besides, not having the chutzpah to argue, Dave is a lawyer... he argues for a living. See: "Lose-Lose Situation".
Historically, it's ALWAYS the coldest day of the year when we go to the car show. I can scarcely recall ever being comfortable, or even safe traveling to and from a car show. Why the industry persists in having a major show in January, in MICHIGAN is beyond any comprehension. The only good thing is even the thieves, bangers, pimps and whores, normally so redolent on Detroit's streets are thinned out significantly during the deepest days of winter.
It's one hard-core crack whore out when it's 8 degrees. I don't mean to be mean or even glib, but you spend enough time around the city of Detroit and you become less moved by the blight, human and otherwise, even while being increasingly aware of it.
And that about sums it up. A couple guys with a passion for not only cars, but for the industry, the very zeitgeist that is created by the car culture of the Motor City couldn't even see their way to be a little brave, a little patient and a little cold, (ok, a lot cold... it was 8), to go indulge in their great annual ritual.
I managed to sum up everything I wanted to say in one, compact anecdote. See, things really are weird right now.
And I have just been... drained.
Inherently introverted, the holidays, which now seem like distant echoes of a once familiar song, drain me. On top of that fact, I have also been immersed in a large couple of large projects at work that have stolen my ability to focus on anything else. In short, same old shit I always say when I haven't blogged for awhile.
A little Debby Downer moment, if you please - Life is just not that happy and exciting to write about now. No, it's nothing serious. No, it's nothing that won't be in my rear-view before too long. But right now, its more long sighs and fatigue than it is laughter and manic energy.
Take the car show. Emily loves the car show. Dave loves the car show. Greg humors Emily, Dave and I and is a good sport when we four go to the car show. This is a typically annually ritual, though not strictly annual. Sometimes we can't all go so we don't all go. But surely I go and usually Dave. We are the stallwarts.
Greg has been so busy he forgot about it, Em couldn't work with my travel schedule. That left Dave and I. The staunchest of the car show fans in our world. We made plans to go on Tuesday afternoon, after work. Him, after a long day of doing a job he doesn't love, and me at the end of a long day facing a looming deadline the following morning.
Did I mention the high temperature was 8? Yes. 8. Degrees. Farenheit. That's not a lot of degrees.
Planning to meet at 4:30, I got a text at quarter-of-three from Dave. "How keen are you about the car show?"
I wanted to write back - "Very keen! Keen, keen the car show machine!" Instead, I wrote back what I really felt, "meh."
And because we were both exhausted. And because as Dave so eloquently put it, "I just don't feel like walking five blocks on the coldest day of the year (of course!) only to get norovirus the second I touch the door handle and have to jockey around a million people who are in my way so I can't see all the cars I want but won't ever be able to buy."
It was, without question, an excellent argument, and I was, without question not going to argue against. Besides, not having the chutzpah to argue, Dave is a lawyer... he argues for a living. See: "Lose-Lose Situation".
Historically, it's ALWAYS the coldest day of the year when we go to the car show. I can scarcely recall ever being comfortable, or even safe traveling to and from a car show. Why the industry persists in having a major show in January, in MICHIGAN is beyond any comprehension. The only good thing is even the thieves, bangers, pimps and whores, normally so redolent on Detroit's streets are thinned out significantly during the deepest days of winter.
It's one hard-core crack whore out when it's 8 degrees. I don't mean to be mean or even glib, but you spend enough time around the city of Detroit and you become less moved by the blight, human and otherwise, even while being increasingly aware of it.
And that about sums it up. A couple guys with a passion for not only cars, but for the industry, the very zeitgeist that is created by the car culture of the Motor City couldn't even see their way to be a little brave, a little patient and a little cold, (ok, a lot cold... it was 8), to go indulge in their great annual ritual.
I managed to sum up everything I wanted to say in one, compact anecdote. See, things really are weird right now.
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