The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning
Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
Who’d’a thunk it?
He could claim to be accelerating after a stop signal and that’s just how those big Chevy “clean diesel” engines work, even with DEF and DPF in full effect.
In point of fact, this was deliberate:
I wish no ill on any man, but, should the Fates decree that a big pickup must be found wrapped around a tree, I have a recommendation.
We were northbound on 9W, returning home after an end-of-summer party.
Seven days and 300 miles of pedal pushing:
We rode north to the start of the Cycling the Hudson Valley ride in (wait for it) Hudson, rode south while crossing the Hudson six times, then I rode north from Da Bronx while the other 100 riders proceeded south to the tip of Manhattan and the finish line in Brooklyn. Mary, alas, drove the last few days to avoid aggravating a tender tendon.
While everybody else had a touristing day in Hyde Park, we slept in our own beds for two nights.
Everything you need to know about modern bicycle touring:
The straight line along the right side of the map, from just below the New Croton Reservoir to Hopewell Junction, represents data loss from riding in a valley, plus knocking the coaxial power plug out of the battery pack where the South County Trail becomes one with Rt 100 / Saw Mill River Road for a few miles.
That last day had plenty of hillclimbing, even on the rail trail, but with a rewarding section of Rt 52 that drops 500 feet in a mile; I hit 41 mph while passing under I-84.
A good time was had by all!
You can’t make this stuff up:
As nearly as I could tell, the vertical downspout along the edge of the building ends level with the top of the drain grate. If that convenient rock were high enough to level the last length of pipe, the elbow would be above the end of the downspout.
The architectural drawings for the apartment complex surely didn’t look like that.
I should do something like this to the Forester:
We were volunteering at the annual Locust Grove Classic Car Show, which also included a monster 1913 FIAT made in Poughkeepise.
Coming out of Adams, we’re ready to make a left turn onto Rt 44:
He was one car back in the left-turn storage lane when his light went yellow-to-red, crossed the stop line on the red, and was one car length over the stop line and accelerating when our light changed to green.
We’re ready to start rolling on green, but we’ve learned to wait a few heartbeats for just such occasions; what counts as a fender-bender for you would be a fatality for us.
Y’know how motorists get very, very angry at cyclists? I’ve always wondered why they don’t get that angry when motorists do those same stupid things, at higher speeds with much more energy.
We ride as though we’re thin cars, which is how it’s supposed to be done, and generally don’t get too much hassle.
One thing that is annoying, though: short-stroke yellow cycles that last maybe two seconds. We can cross the stop line on green, accelerating firmly through the intersection, and still get caught in the middle as the signal changes to green-to-yellow-to-red behind us and red-to-green for opposing traffic. No, we didn’t run the yellow, but that’s what it looks like.
My desk flashlight has three “functions”:
A four-click rotary pushbutton switch actuates the three functions (plus “off”) in sequence:
All three lights became intermittent, which suggested a poor return connection at the far end of the battery. The case is, of course, aluminum, with coarse-cut threads that grate as you tighten the parts. I cleaned the crud out of the threads, anointed them with Ox-Gard compound, and discovered that the laser and UV LEDs were still flaky.
Taking the thing apart and unsoldering the switch connections revealed the problem:
Yup, two lousy solder joints. They’re not exactly cold solder joints, because there’s not really a joint there to begin with; the switch tabs never got hot enough to bond with the molten solder before it cooled.
A dab of flux and touch from a hot soldering iron solved that problem.
Assemble in reverse order and it works better than it ever did before!
Mary signed up for the National Bike Challenge and is currently ranked 4201 out of 32 k riders, by simply getting on the damn bike and riding. About 3/4 of her miles count as “transport”: grocery / gardening / shopping / suchlike. We’re no longer biking to work, but when we did, riding ten miles a day, every day, added up pretty quickly; we chose houses in locations that made bicycle commuting possible.
Her father, at age 84, also signed up and ranked neck-and-neck with her until cataract surgery cut into his riding schedule; their standings flip-flopped depending on who updated most recently. He’s our role model for getting old without slowing down.
I’m not participating, being far more quantified than anyone really should be.
Makes you wonder what the bottom 28 k (*) riders are doing, doesn’t it? I mean, sheesh, my esteemed wife spots most participants an entire lifetime or two; her father spots them three or four. They’re not star athletes, that’s for sure, but they’re doing just fine.
I commend to your attention:
Less Exercise, Not More Calories, Responsible for Expanding Waistlines
Takeway: half of adult Americans report no physical activity at all.
May I suggest a health(y) plan?
(*) The Challenge had over 40 k riders at one point. We think they’ve tossed folks who haven’t done any riding at all, which might serve to improve the overall averages.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 