I’ve been making plans for a road trip. We haven’t been out west for over a year and it’s time. This trip will combine several destinations and we’ll be gone for just over a month. I tend to do a lot of planning for trips like this because, to tell the truth, I like that almost as much as I do the trip itself.
My father always spent time planning our family trips and we took one just about every year. In those days he had to do it the old-fashioned way, with road maps and a note pad. He always had a collection of road maps handy and we’d pick-up new ones in each state we traveled thru. My travel agent is the world-wide-web.
Back in the day we got to a town in which were going to stay the night and found a motel by neon “vacancy” sign. My parents based their choice on availability and their reaction to the looks of the place from the parking lot.
Yesterday I booked rooms in six different cities and states on-line. Before I chose a place I looked at photos of the property and read reviews. I considered which properties were most convenient to my planned route, what restaurants were near-by as well as what the rooms cost.
After a couple of hours of surfing I have confirmed reservations for rooms in Indiana, Kansas, New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana and North Carolina. I know how to get from my route of choice to my room of choice. I know how far it is between stops (an average of 573 miles) and the accumulated mileage (5159 miles). MapQuest even estimates fuel expense based on miles traveled, mpg and average gas prices ($688). How did we live before the Internet?
One of the first family trips I planned was to Colorado Springs from Phoenix back in 1971. I didn’t make lodging reservations for the one night we planned to spend on the road to Colorado because I knew we’d find a place the old-fashioned “vacancy” sign way.
There wasn’t a room available between Cortez and Colorado Springs, however, (it was Rodeo Season) and we wound up driving straight thru (777 miles according to Google maps). We arrived at 0-dark-30 the next morning and my son, who was only about a year old at the time, was sick. Elayne wasn’t happy and I haven’t left home without reservations since!
Not long after the Colorado Trip I was involved in planning another trip, this one to include the entire family, a four wheel drive caravan to Alaska! We’d all get together for Sunday dinner at my in-laws and B.S. about what we’d need to make the epic trek up and down the Alcan Highway to Alaska and back.
Around this time my Uncle Donald retired from the Alaska State Highway Department and moved to the desert near us. Naturally we invited him to our Sunday dinner and planning session. Well, Donald confirmed our notion that a lot of planning was required to drive to or from the lower 48 (that what Alaskans call the rest of the country). To illustrate he recalled the time he was unpacking the trunk of his car following a drive from Anchorage to Seattle and found he hadn’t brought a spare tire.
I know planning people will tell you that it takes careful planning to make sure you’ve got all the essentials and to eliminate the non-essentials. That’s hogwash! The more/better the planning, the more junk you’ll have, period. Uncle Donald would not have had room for Aunt Irene’s crafts (gifts for everyone in the family) if he’d planned for a flat tire. He didn’t have a flat so he didn’t need the spare!
On a couple of occasions my friend Bunkie and I traveled together. He was as opposed to planning as I was addicted to it and we worked well together. I’d do all the planning I wanted and he’d either go along with my plans or completely ignore them. When you make a plan it’s really hard not to stick to it. When you don’t do any planning at least you don’t have to worry about the plan not working. I suppose winging-it is just another way of limiting your opportunities to be disappointed.
Back in the Day
A few weeks ago I checked-out a car show at the Boonsboro American Legion Post, getting a twofer in the process; hanging out with some neat cars and their people while making my debut at the Post to which I’d recently transferred my membership. The weather, for a change, moderated and it turned out to be a great day.
There were several El Caminos in attendance and they, coupled with the “remember the war” vibe that hangs around Legion Posts, reminded me of the U-2 chase cars I watched doing their thing at Bien Hoa Air Base in Viet Nam.
The U-2 can’t land by itself because of its extreme wingspan and a bicycle (two wheels in a row) landing gear. They use “pogos” (small wheels on flexible steel legs) to support the wing tip upon landing. This requires someone to put the pogo in place when the plane touches down.
Hence the El Camino chase car and a guy in the back to handle the pogo install! The El Caminos were 1968 SS396 models that earned their keep running down the U-2s as they landed. Watching these USAF hot rods going from zero to gotcha in half the runway convinced me I really wanted an SS396 El Camino when I got back to the World!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Roads Scholar
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
“ . . . The current 55 mph limit results in prevailing speeds of about 65 mph near the Hayward Road intersection.” Frederick News-Post, June 23, 2010.
“ . . . the majority of posted speed limits in speed zones nationwide are much lower than the 85th percentile speed and in many cases lower than the average speed. . . Traffic engineers maintain . . . the limit should be set at a level at or under which 85 percent of people are driving (85th percentile).” National Motorists Association, Speed Limits, A Recommended Speed Zoning Practice.
“ . . . Some states (such as Pennsylvania) have official tolerances.” Wikipedia, Speed Limit Enforcement.
“ . . . It isn't rigidly enforced: they allow +10% +2mph in most cases.” www.safespeed.org.
According to Chaucer and damn near everyone since, “idle hands (are exploited) by the Devil.” Apparently the same goes for idle minds (never mind other body parts)!
The first four citations are just a glimpse of what I found when I got to looking into the fuss being made locally regarding the intersection of U.S.15 and Hayward Road. The last relates to what happens to me when the air is too dirty to go out and play and the heat index is over 100. In any case, the notion of “+10%+2 mph” and “85th percentile” conjures up all sorts of mischief in my obviously under-utilized mind.
You only have to drive up and down Route 15 to verify that most cars (and big trucks) are living up to expectations; driving at the posted 55 mph will get you passed like you’re standing still (if not rear-ended, run off the road or single-fingered saluted). Of course, only an old fart with nowhere to go and in no hurry to get there would even think about going the speed limit. Them and those of us driving classic cars which feel like they’re speeding at 55 mph.
The quote from the Fredrick News-Post states that a posted speed limit will cause traffic to exceed the posted speed by “about” 18%. The NMA, on the other hand, says that most speed limits are set at less than people are going to drive, that it is expected that the limit will be exceeded by 15%. This information also means that the widely accepted “tolerance” of +10%+2mph is not doing us any favors at a speed limit of 55 mph (+10%+2 mph= 62.5 mph). They are expecting us to drive 63.5 (+15%) to 65 (+18%) and allowing us to drive 62.5. We seem to be playing with house money. Except, of course, in the case of Route 15 where nobody seems to be doing much enforcing anyway.
What if we were to apply these built-in margins for excess to other areas of our lives. We could, for instance, understate our income (or overstate our refunds) by 15-18% or 10%+$2 on our tax returns with impunity. That would certainly result in a tidy windfall for taxpayers but probably significantly skew government revenue projections. That’s assuming they haven’t already built in equivalent fudge-factors and make out like bandits if we behave ourselves.
It is a good thing that the wiggle room built into speed limits is not carried-over to other things we measure (I hope). I don’t want to get only 85% of the gas I buy when I fill-up, or pay +10%+$.02 for the gallons I actually get. That would raise the price of a $2.95 gallon to $3.27 or seriously distort my mpg calculations. Now that I think of it, that’s probably exactly how gas mileage estimates are determined!
How do you think newly re-built engines would work if machinists applied these tolerances to our bores and strokes, bearings, etc. Or if a ±10%±2 standard were applied when the points you were awarded by the car show judges were tallied. OK, I guess if you got the + and the other guy got the -. Maybe that’s the answer; if the fudge factor favors you it’s not so bad, if it favors the other guy it ain’t so good.
I certainly don’t want to find out that the fudge factor is built into my blood pressure reading or my temperature (that would make normal anywhere between 87 and 110, either one of which probably means I’m dead). Overall I think I like precision measurements of all things affecting my health. I don’t think I take much comfort in a prognosis that the Doctor is only 85% sure I’ll be around for my next physical.
I really don’t mind that my old car is only 85% done because, at that point I can say I’ve finished. And I accept that, when calculating the cost of fixing-up the car easily cost +10%+$2K more than I willing to admit to spending. Tolerance is really subjective when it comes to the things we measure. I guess the best lesson to take from all of this is that we should always assume that anything anyone tells us, expects of us, or gives us is likely to have some kind of 85%/+10%+2 fudge factor built in and that we’d best assume the bias is against us.
We live in the Information Age, that is the commodity in which we deal. It is starting to look like information is going to have to have a label just like the stuff we get off the shelf in the grocery store. We need to know what percent of what we’re getting is fact and what percent is fudge factor. The information in this piece, for example; is certified (by me) to contain no more than 51% balderdash (with a ±10%±2 margin for wild imagination).
“ . . . The current 55 mph limit results in prevailing speeds of about 65 mph near the Hayward Road intersection.” Frederick News-Post, June 23, 2010.
“ . . . the majority of posted speed limits in speed zones nationwide are much lower than the 85th percentile speed and in many cases lower than the average speed. . . Traffic engineers maintain . . . the limit should be set at a level at or under which 85 percent of people are driving (85th percentile).” National Motorists Association, Speed Limits, A Recommended Speed Zoning Practice.
“ . . . Some states (such as Pennsylvania) have official tolerances.” Wikipedia, Speed Limit Enforcement.
“ . . . It isn't rigidly enforced: they allow +10% +2mph in most cases.” www.safespeed.org.
According to Chaucer and damn near everyone since, “idle hands (are exploited) by the Devil.” Apparently the same goes for idle minds (never mind other body parts)!
The first four citations are just a glimpse of what I found when I got to looking into the fuss being made locally regarding the intersection of U.S.15 and Hayward Road. The last relates to what happens to me when the air is too dirty to go out and play and the heat index is over 100. In any case, the notion of “+10%+2 mph” and “85th percentile” conjures up all sorts of mischief in my obviously under-utilized mind.
You only have to drive up and down Route 15 to verify that most cars (and big trucks) are living up to expectations; driving at the posted 55 mph will get you passed like you’re standing still (if not rear-ended, run off the road or single-fingered saluted). Of course, only an old fart with nowhere to go and in no hurry to get there would even think about going the speed limit. Them and those of us driving classic cars which feel like they’re speeding at 55 mph.
The quote from the Fredrick News-Post states that a posted speed limit will cause traffic to exceed the posted speed by “about” 18%. The NMA, on the other hand, says that most speed limits are set at less than people are going to drive, that it is expected that the limit will be exceeded by 15%. This information also means that the widely accepted “tolerance” of +10%+2mph is not doing us any favors at a speed limit of 55 mph (+10%+2 mph= 62.5 mph). They are expecting us to drive 63.5 (+15%) to 65 (+18%) and allowing us to drive 62.5. We seem to be playing with house money. Except, of course, in the case of Route 15 where nobody seems to be doing much enforcing anyway.
What if we were to apply these built-in margins for excess to other areas of our lives. We could, for instance, understate our income (or overstate our refunds) by 15-18% or 10%+$2 on our tax returns with impunity. That would certainly result in a tidy windfall for taxpayers but probably significantly skew government revenue projections. That’s assuming they haven’t already built in equivalent fudge-factors and make out like bandits if we behave ourselves.
It is a good thing that the wiggle room built into speed limits is not carried-over to other things we measure (I hope). I don’t want to get only 85% of the gas I buy when I fill-up, or pay +10%+$.02 for the gallons I actually get. That would raise the price of a $2.95 gallon to $3.27 or seriously distort my mpg calculations. Now that I think of it, that’s probably exactly how gas mileage estimates are determined!
How do you think newly re-built engines would work if machinists applied these tolerances to our bores and strokes, bearings, etc. Or if a ±10%±2 standard were applied when the points you were awarded by the car show judges were tallied. OK, I guess if you got the + and the other guy got the -. Maybe that’s the answer; if the fudge factor favors you it’s not so bad, if it favors the other guy it ain’t so good.
I certainly don’t want to find out that the fudge factor is built into my blood pressure reading or my temperature (that would make normal anywhere between 87 and 110, either one of which probably means I’m dead). Overall I think I like precision measurements of all things affecting my health. I don’t think I take much comfort in a prognosis that the Doctor is only 85% sure I’ll be around for my next physical.
I really don’t mind that my old car is only 85% done because, at that point I can say I’ve finished. And I accept that, when calculating the cost of fixing-up the car easily cost +10%+$2K more than I willing to admit to spending. Tolerance is really subjective when it comes to the things we measure. I guess the best lesson to take from all of this is that we should always assume that anything anyone tells us, expects of us, or gives us is likely to have some kind of 85%/+10%+2 fudge factor built in and that we’d best assume the bias is against us.
We live in the Information Age, that is the commodity in which we deal. It is starting to look like information is going to have to have a label just like the stuff we get off the shelf in the grocery store. We need to know what percent of what we’re getting is fact and what percent is fudge factor. The information in this piece, for example; is certified (by me) to contain no more than 51% balderdash (with a ±10%±2 margin for wild imagination).
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy
By Carroll G. Anderson
June, 2010
Last month I “confessed” I thought it is nice to have access to goods and services provided by Car Guys who’s interests are similar to mine. Overall I’ve had pretty good luck in finding what I need and in dealing with the Car Guys that had it. If there’s any cloud around this silver lining, however, it seems to be my fault; I apparently don’t give off the right Car Guy vibe. I just don’t show up on real Car Guys’ radar.
The other day I drove over to a Performance shop in my area. I parked my Old Car right in front so it could be seen by anyone looking out the front door. I thought maybe that would establish that I hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck; that I, too, was a Car Guy. No such luck; turns out my bona fides cut no cheese what-so-ever!
There were a trio of customer Car Guys in the shop when I got there; looked to me like a set. They were being attentively attended to by the guy who runs the place and no wonder; they were obviously talking about spending some big bucks. The guy who mans the counter was also at his station, tending to whatever business counter-tenders-to tend to when . . . well, you know.
I started looking over the stuff they had hanging from the walls, bits and pieces sandwiched between cardboard and impregnable clear plastic. I was still looking at the wall hangers when the trio took off. Then it was just me, the guy who runs the place and the counter-guy. Did I mention the space was about the size of a McMansion master bath? In any case, they apparently didn’t notice me examining their stock of shrink-wrapped stuff.
I have no doubt there’s a lot of business-related business that the crew of a business like that need to discuss; inventory and accounting issues that need to be resolved, etc. And, for the next ten minutes or so that’s what they did. I continued looking at the wall hangings. Eventually, however, I decided I’d waited long enough to not be noticed and I left. It’s OK, though, since I didn’t find anything hanging on the wall that I wanted to buy.
I’d like to think I’m not so insignificant that, in a space the size of a single car garage, I could go completely un-noticed for 15 minutes. I know it wasn’t the way I was dressed, I had on my best lavender shirt. In retrospect, I probably should have been wearing something a little more noticeable. Like a cropped Metallica t-shirt that showed off the “I Hemis” tattoo right above my plumber’s crack.
Actually, while that get-up might have worked at some of the Salvage Yards I’ve visited, it would have done no good at this particular shop. No, there I should have dressed like a preppy Lawyer and parked a Z-06 in the spot where I put my Old Car. A fat bank account and a new Corvette would have all the right stuff to get those guys’ attention! In a place that gets $120/hour to maximize your ride’s performance the $6.95 I was looking to spend for a breather grommet didn’t warrant much attention.
A lot of the blame for this whole situation is mine; I didn’t have to get into a snit and not ask for help. I chose the passive/aggressive route. Also it was obvious I was looking for something that didn’t cost much; there was some high-dollar stuff lying around that I ignored completely. Drooling over a NOS System or an EFI Conversion would have increased my attractiveness considerably. I could have even worn my gold “750” necklace outside my purple shirt.
All of the money we spend at a place like this speed shop is discretionary, we don’t have to spend it and we certainly don’t have to spend it there. It’s not like changing the timing belt on the Honda or buying a set of tires for the minivan. The money we spend on Old Cars (or new Z-06’s), whether for bling, performance or whatever can always be not spent.
Any small business that caters to hobbyists, that provides goods and services that are wanted rather than needed, must be aware of the precariousness of their position. According to the Small Business Administration, only 44 percent (of new businesses) survive at least four years and one of leading causes of failure is poor customer service. If I were in this business I’d make sure that the red carpet got rolled out for every customer, even the ornery old guy in a purple shirt driving the raggedy “survivor!”
June, 2010
Last month I “confessed” I thought it is nice to have access to goods and services provided by Car Guys who’s interests are similar to mine. Overall I’ve had pretty good luck in finding what I need and in dealing with the Car Guys that had it. If there’s any cloud around this silver lining, however, it seems to be my fault; I apparently don’t give off the right Car Guy vibe. I just don’t show up on real Car Guys’ radar.
The other day I drove over to a Performance shop in my area. I parked my Old Car right in front so it could be seen by anyone looking out the front door. I thought maybe that would establish that I hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck; that I, too, was a Car Guy. No such luck; turns out my bona fides cut no cheese what-so-ever!
There were a trio of customer Car Guys in the shop when I got there; looked to me like a set. They were being attentively attended to by the guy who runs the place and no wonder; they were obviously talking about spending some big bucks. The guy who mans the counter was also at his station, tending to whatever business counter-tenders-to tend to when . . . well, you know.
I started looking over the stuff they had hanging from the walls, bits and pieces sandwiched between cardboard and impregnable clear plastic. I was still looking at the wall hangers when the trio took off. Then it was just me, the guy who runs the place and the counter-guy. Did I mention the space was about the size of a McMansion master bath? In any case, they apparently didn’t notice me examining their stock of shrink-wrapped stuff.
I have no doubt there’s a lot of business-related business that the crew of a business like that need to discuss; inventory and accounting issues that need to be resolved, etc. And, for the next ten minutes or so that’s what they did. I continued looking at the wall hangings. Eventually, however, I decided I’d waited long enough to not be noticed and I left. It’s OK, though, since I didn’t find anything hanging on the wall that I wanted to buy.
I’d like to think I’m not so insignificant that, in a space the size of a single car garage, I could go completely un-noticed for 15 minutes. I know it wasn’t the way I was dressed, I had on my best lavender shirt. In retrospect, I probably should have been wearing something a little more noticeable. Like a cropped Metallica t-shirt that showed off the “I Hemis” tattoo right above my plumber’s crack.
Actually, while that get-up might have worked at some of the Salvage Yards I’ve visited, it would have done no good at this particular shop. No, there I should have dressed like a preppy Lawyer and parked a Z-06 in the spot where I put my Old Car. A fat bank account and a new Corvette would have all the right stuff to get those guys’ attention! In a place that gets $120/hour to maximize your ride’s performance the $6.95 I was looking to spend for a breather grommet didn’t warrant much attention.
A lot of the blame for this whole situation is mine; I didn’t have to get into a snit and not ask for help. I chose the passive/aggressive route. Also it was obvious I was looking for something that didn’t cost much; there was some high-dollar stuff lying around that I ignored completely. Drooling over a NOS System or an EFI Conversion would have increased my attractiveness considerably. I could have even worn my gold “750” necklace outside my purple shirt.
All of the money we spend at a place like this speed shop is discretionary, we don’t have to spend it and we certainly don’t have to spend it there. It’s not like changing the timing belt on the Honda or buying a set of tires for the minivan. The money we spend on Old Cars (or new Z-06’s), whether for bling, performance or whatever can always be not spent.
Any small business that caters to hobbyists, that provides goods and services that are wanted rather than needed, must be aware of the precariousness of their position. According to the Small Business Administration, only 44 percent (of new businesses) survive at least four years and one of leading causes of failure is poor customer service. If I were in this business I’d make sure that the red carpet got rolled out for every customer, even the ornery old guy in a purple shirt driving the raggedy “survivor!”
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy
I was recently working on a schedule of Cruise-ins for Maryland and adjacent states. Cruise-ins are relatively informal, regularly scheduled events that occur through-out Car Guy season. The number and frequency of these cruise-ins is huge; every night and weekend day from one end of the region to the other. In our area there are over 50 separate events, many of them occurring every week! Some of these get-togethers draw hundreds of cars and, obviously, some Car Guys hit some cruise-ins every week and sometimes more than one a week. Still, that’s a lot of cars getting out and getting their stuff strutted on a regular basis.
Each month we update the calendar of events in our newsletter, typically devoting two full pages to events all over this part of the country. Included are usually not cruise-ins but shows, swap meets and other non-recurring car-related events. During Car Guy season we only have room for a couple of months-worth per issue, maybe fifty or sixty events. Although most occur on weekends, some of these events cover periods of several days and some involve substantial travel. Between the Calendar of Events and the Cruise-in Schedule, each month we are notifying our readers of approximately 150 choices for their Car Guy pleasure.
Is there a point to all this? I’m not sure but I think I’m working toward some observation about how healthy and widespread leisure-time interest in cars, cars as a hobby, is today. I find that encouraging. Besides involving cars, something in which I’m always interested, the Car Guy thing is also owned by my demographic. Sure, Car Guy stuff is opened to people of all ages; we get a lot of younger enthusiasts at our Shows and lots of youngsters show up at area Cruise-ins. But it’s us, Baby Boomers, that dominate the events; the AARP crowd is well represented! And this, to me, is good.
So, is there any way to exploit or benefit from all this activity involving car-loving Baby Boomers? Well, HMCCC is able to donate over $20,000 per year to various charities, money collected at our Car Guy Events. Several of the cruise-ins mentioned assess each car attending their event a couple of dollars which they then donate to a charity. That, I’m thinking, is a significant benefit; we’re able to have fun and do some good at the same time! Too bad more jobs don’t provide a two-fer like that.
Speaking of jobs that provide a two-fer, I have several friends who are parlaying their love of cars (and some expertise and talent a lot of us don’t have) and spare time into car-related enterprises. So many of the things that go into the building and maintaining of old (and not so old) cars exceed our skill level and guys who can lend a hand are worth their weight in gold.
Too many auto service businesses are too busy and too specialized to have any interest in supporting old cars. You can’t just take your ’55 Chevy or ’68 Roadrunner to the quickie lube or chain auto service center and get dependable help. Their equipment is not set-up to handle the cars and their techs are not trained to troubleshoot, let alone fix, stuff that’s older than they are. Ask an auto parts store about how to get a part to fix a fifty year old motor and, after the laughter the abates, they might explain that their parts books don’t go back that far.
You’d think, if there was money to be made building and maintaining old cars, there’d be an Old Car Garage in every town. There are certainly enough old cars and you know those old cars always need something (just ask my wife). Businesses that cater to Car Guys seem to do well, businesses like Jeg’s and Summit, Coker Tire and Eckler’s. SEMA is living proof that Car Guys have and spend money; so is Car Guy TV. That (Car Guy TV) runs the gamut from the sublime to the ridiculous, or maybe from the just silly to the ridiculous. But it wouldn’t be on if it weren’t making money.
I’m thinking maybe there should be a government sponsored program that subsidizes Old Car-related enterprises; maybe grants to start shade tree mechanic business or tax credits for buying old cars. I know a lot of folks bought houses this past year or so because of the First-time Homebuyers Credit. It would be much easier to convince the Little Woman what a good buy that ’40 Willys Gasser is if you could get an $8000 tax credit for buying it. How about a bailout for ailing Hot Rod Shops or financial assistance for folks nearing retirement age and going back to school to learn paint and bodywork skills? I would certainly vote for any politician who supported legislation to subsidize my Old Car!
Speaking from the sublime to the ridiculous, I guess I’m digressing. Really, though, there’s a ton of Car Guys with tons of money out there and, hopefully some talented Car Guys with useful skills and ideas about how to snag some of it. I like free enterprise, especially when it means it’ll be easier to get the goods and services I need from people whose interests are similar to mine.
Each month we update the calendar of events in our newsletter, typically devoting two full pages to events all over this part of the country. Included are usually not cruise-ins but shows, swap meets and other non-recurring car-related events. During Car Guy season we only have room for a couple of months-worth per issue, maybe fifty or sixty events. Although most occur on weekends, some of these events cover periods of several days and some involve substantial travel. Between the Calendar of Events and the Cruise-in Schedule, each month we are notifying our readers of approximately 150 choices for their Car Guy pleasure.
Is there a point to all this? I’m not sure but I think I’m working toward some observation about how healthy and widespread leisure-time interest in cars, cars as a hobby, is today. I find that encouraging. Besides involving cars, something in which I’m always interested, the Car Guy thing is also owned by my demographic. Sure, Car Guy stuff is opened to people of all ages; we get a lot of younger enthusiasts at our Shows and lots of youngsters show up at area Cruise-ins. But it’s us, Baby Boomers, that dominate the events; the AARP crowd is well represented! And this, to me, is good.
So, is there any way to exploit or benefit from all this activity involving car-loving Baby Boomers? Well, HMCCC is able to donate over $20,000 per year to various charities, money collected at our Car Guy Events. Several of the cruise-ins mentioned assess each car attending their event a couple of dollars which they then donate to a charity. That, I’m thinking, is a significant benefit; we’re able to have fun and do some good at the same time! Too bad more jobs don’t provide a two-fer like that.
Speaking of jobs that provide a two-fer, I have several friends who are parlaying their love of cars (and some expertise and talent a lot of us don’t have) and spare time into car-related enterprises. So many of the things that go into the building and maintaining of old (and not so old) cars exceed our skill level and guys who can lend a hand are worth their weight in gold.
Too many auto service businesses are too busy and too specialized to have any interest in supporting old cars. You can’t just take your ’55 Chevy or ’68 Roadrunner to the quickie lube or chain auto service center and get dependable help. Their equipment is not set-up to handle the cars and their techs are not trained to troubleshoot, let alone fix, stuff that’s older than they are. Ask an auto parts store about how to get a part to fix a fifty year old motor and, after the laughter the abates, they might explain that their parts books don’t go back that far.
You’d think, if there was money to be made building and maintaining old cars, there’d be an Old Car Garage in every town. There are certainly enough old cars and you know those old cars always need something (just ask my wife). Businesses that cater to Car Guys seem to do well, businesses like Jeg’s and Summit, Coker Tire and Eckler’s. SEMA is living proof that Car Guys have and spend money; so is Car Guy TV. That (Car Guy TV) runs the gamut from the sublime to the ridiculous, or maybe from the just silly to the ridiculous. But it wouldn’t be on if it weren’t making money.
I’m thinking maybe there should be a government sponsored program that subsidizes Old Car-related enterprises; maybe grants to start shade tree mechanic business or tax credits for buying old cars. I know a lot of folks bought houses this past year or so because of the First-time Homebuyers Credit. It would be much easier to convince the Little Woman what a good buy that ’40 Willys Gasser is if you could get an $8000 tax credit for buying it. How about a bailout for ailing Hot Rod Shops or financial assistance for folks nearing retirement age and going back to school to learn paint and bodywork skills? I would certainly vote for any politician who supported legislation to subsidize my Old Car!
Speaking from the sublime to the ridiculous, I guess I’m digressing. Really, though, there’s a ton of Car Guys with tons of money out there and, hopefully some talented Car Guys with useful skills and ideas about how to snag some of it. I like free enterprise, especially when it means it’ll be easier to get the goods and services I need from people whose interests are similar to mine.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The Roads Scholar
By Carroll G Anderson
April, 2010
A century ago the United States had 2.5 million miles of roads, none of them paved. Less than half the streets in New York City were paved at the time. Around the same time the automobile was coming into its own and needed something besides mud, dust and ruts to really strut its stuff. Popular movements to connect American cities with real all weather roads had been developing over the past couple of decades but, in 1910, the American Road was pretty much just a dream.
Around the same time, in a totally unrelated (then or now) occurrence, the fortune of a British big-shot named Cecil Rhodes was used to fund the Rhodes Scholarship. It has become one of the world’s most prestigious scholarly awards and has been won by a number of famous Americans including Bill Clinton and Kris Kristofferson. Although I’m not a Rhodes Scholar and have never been to Oxford, Mississippi let alone Oxford and Cambridge Universities (where Rhodes Scholars study), I consider myself a true Roads Scholar.
While I’ve been interested in doing what you do on roads all my life: a road trip is entertainment of the finest kind as far as I’m concerned, I just recently became interested in the story of roads. When we moved to Middletown, Maryland we moved into a neighborhood bordered by the Old National Pike; a quarter mile from our front door the street on which we live intersects with one of America’s most historic roads.
U.S Route 40 was built along the route of the National Road, the first Federally funded road built to connect cities on the eastern seaboard with the Ohio River. That road was built to take advantage earlier cross-country efforts including Braddock’s Road from Cumberland, Maryland to Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Braddock’s Road, built during the French and Indian Wars to enable colonial British forces to get to French military outposts in Western Pennsylvania, was itself build along Indian trails established by centuries of foot traffic between coastal tribes and those on the other side of the Appalachians.
In 1912 a coast-to-coast road, the National Old Trails Road or Ocean-to-Ocean Highway, was established. The 2,448 mile route incorporated the Old National Pike and the Santa Fe Trail as well as Indian Trails. Beginning in Baltimore and ending in Los Angeles, the Ocean-to-Ocean Highway had a long and storied career: less than 800 of those miles were ever paved, it was always tough to negotiate and it eventually became part of U.S. Route 40, U.S. Route 66, and, finally, parts of both Interstate 40 and Interstate 70.
While early travelers were bouncing along over the O-2-O the Nation was being dragged kicking and screaming into the 20th century by legislation that ultimately put the paving of America’s roads into the hands of the Federal government. By the mid-20’s the development of America’s highways was well underway. The “0” routes like 30 & 40 began connecting States east to west and vice versa. The “1” routes handled traffic traveling north and south. The numbering system was put in place at least in part to alleviate the confusion resulting from “naming” roads.
Named roads, while far more colorful than numbered routes, proved to be a handful; hard to agree upon and hard to remember. The Dixie Overland Highway, for instance, ran from Savannah, Georgia to San Diego, California while the King of Trails Highway carried travelers from Winnipeg, Canada to Brownsville, Texas. Even at the relatively slow speeds of 1925 it could take several road signs to read those names. Of course there weren’t too many alternatives to take a wrong turn onto.
Eventually many of the named cross-country roads became numbered U.S. Routes and finally Interstate Highways. Thinking about traveling across the country on graded (maybe) dirt roads, following signs painted on power or telephone poles, or roadside barns, certainly would enhance the adventure. But how much enhancement does your adventure need when it already involved riding for days in a Model T?
I’ve been around long enough to remember cross country trips on dirt roads, the two lane blacktop that replaced them and finally Interstates that go the same place. I gotta say, for covering a lot of distance in as little time as possible, nothing beats the Interstate. At the same time, if you want to see the country the two lane blacktop is the answer. Dirt roads, on the other hand, are what I call “off-roading.”
Every year or so I get an undeniable urge to cross the country and, regardless of the final destination, I take the Interstate. Almost weekly I get a smaller scale road trip urge I assuage with a ride on two-lane blacktop, almost never getting on the Interstate (until I have to kick it up a notch because I have to get home to the potty). Much less frequently these days I get an “off-roading” jones. In the first place, “off-roading” around here is apt to involve trespassing. Secondly, as I get older, I find myself more prone to “shaken geezer syndrome.” The more fun hurts, the easier it is to give up!
April, 2010
A century ago the United States had 2.5 million miles of roads, none of them paved. Less than half the streets in New York City were paved at the time. Around the same time the automobile was coming into its own and needed something besides mud, dust and ruts to really strut its stuff. Popular movements to connect American cities with real all weather roads had been developing over the past couple of decades but, in 1910, the American Road was pretty much just a dream.
Around the same time, in a totally unrelated (then or now) occurrence, the fortune of a British big-shot named Cecil Rhodes was used to fund the Rhodes Scholarship. It has become one of the world’s most prestigious scholarly awards and has been won by a number of famous Americans including Bill Clinton and Kris Kristofferson. Although I’m not a Rhodes Scholar and have never been to Oxford, Mississippi let alone Oxford and Cambridge Universities (where Rhodes Scholars study), I consider myself a true Roads Scholar.
While I’ve been interested in doing what you do on roads all my life: a road trip is entertainment of the finest kind as far as I’m concerned, I just recently became interested in the story of roads. When we moved to Middletown, Maryland we moved into a neighborhood bordered by the Old National Pike; a quarter mile from our front door the street on which we live intersects with one of America’s most historic roads.
U.S Route 40 was built along the route of the National Road, the first Federally funded road built to connect cities on the eastern seaboard with the Ohio River. That road was built to take advantage earlier cross-country efforts including Braddock’s Road from Cumberland, Maryland to Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Braddock’s Road, built during the French and Indian Wars to enable colonial British forces to get to French military outposts in Western Pennsylvania, was itself build along Indian trails established by centuries of foot traffic between coastal tribes and those on the other side of the Appalachians.
In 1912 a coast-to-coast road, the National Old Trails Road or Ocean-to-Ocean Highway, was established. The 2,448 mile route incorporated the Old National Pike and the Santa Fe Trail as well as Indian Trails. Beginning in Baltimore and ending in Los Angeles, the Ocean-to-Ocean Highway had a long and storied career: less than 800 of those miles were ever paved, it was always tough to negotiate and it eventually became part of U.S. Route 40, U.S. Route 66, and, finally, parts of both Interstate 40 and Interstate 70.
While early travelers were bouncing along over the O-2-O the Nation was being dragged kicking and screaming into the 20th century by legislation that ultimately put the paving of America’s roads into the hands of the Federal government. By the mid-20’s the development of America’s highways was well underway. The “0” routes like 30 & 40 began connecting States east to west and vice versa. The “1” routes handled traffic traveling north and south. The numbering system was put in place at least in part to alleviate the confusion resulting from “naming” roads.
Named roads, while far more colorful than numbered routes, proved to be a handful; hard to agree upon and hard to remember. The Dixie Overland Highway, for instance, ran from Savannah, Georgia to San Diego, California while the King of Trails Highway carried travelers from Winnipeg, Canada to Brownsville, Texas. Even at the relatively slow speeds of 1925 it could take several road signs to read those names. Of course there weren’t too many alternatives to take a wrong turn onto.
Eventually many of the named cross-country roads became numbered U.S. Routes and finally Interstate Highways. Thinking about traveling across the country on graded (maybe) dirt roads, following signs painted on power or telephone poles, or roadside barns, certainly would enhance the adventure. But how much enhancement does your adventure need when it already involved riding for days in a Model T?
I’ve been around long enough to remember cross country trips on dirt roads, the two lane blacktop that replaced them and finally Interstates that go the same place. I gotta say, for covering a lot of distance in as little time as possible, nothing beats the Interstate. At the same time, if you want to see the country the two lane blacktop is the answer. Dirt roads, on the other hand, are what I call “off-roading.”
Every year or so I get an undeniable urge to cross the country and, regardless of the final destination, I take the Interstate. Almost weekly I get a smaller scale road trip urge I assuage with a ride on two-lane blacktop, almost never getting on the Interstate (until I have to kick it up a notch because I have to get home to the potty). Much less frequently these days I get an “off-roading” jones. In the first place, “off-roading” around here is apt to involve trespassing. Secondly, as I get older, I find myself more prone to “shaken geezer syndrome.” The more fun hurts, the easier it is to give up!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
March, 2010 Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy
I am the Drugstore Car Guy and I drive a Toyota. That in itself is enough to bring on flashbacks of the paranoia we all developed in the sixties; just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get you. I guess the only Toyota drivers who don’t need to feel paranoid are the ones who only drive those turnpikes down south like Daytona or Talladega or those who take the Bonneville Salt Flats to work.
Just kidding, I love my Toyota and the only flaw I’ve found in driving it for over a year is the way the radio comes on all by itself when I hit a bump. Not every time I hit a bump but, every once in a while the radio just comes on. I shut it off and, almost every time it comes on again just to show me who’s boss. To be fair, it’s never come on after I shut it off for the second time.
We’ve all heard explanations about how floor mats can cause the gas pedal to stick but I think that’s probably not the reason Toyotas have been experiencing SAS (sudden acceleration syndrome). With so many drive-by-wire systems and onboard computers we all know what (or who) is the culprit. Even though my Toyota isn’t a 2001 I’ve named the computer Hal. I figure if while I’m driving I keep unflattering comments to myself and give him nothing to get annoyed about, Hal will do just fine by me.
My old Chevy has suffered problems that remind me of Toyota’s even though I know it doesn’t have a computer. The Chevy has experienced both SDS (sudden deceleration syndrome) and DTJQR (damn thing just quit running) on two occasions. While not as terrifying as having your Prius speed out-of-control at lots faster than anyone would ever think it could go, both SDS and DTJQR are disconcerting (polite talk for it flat pisses me off) in a ’56 Chevy. And I’m certainly glad I have AAA!
One solution I’ve heard is to rename all Toyotas “Christine” but I’m not convinced that will fix much. In the first place I’m not so sure the problem lies solely with each Toyota and it’s computer. I mean, sure, it’s the car and the computer that are experiencing the glitch but maybe the glitch is being caused by something external. Like driving too close to a WIFI hotspot or using a cell phone or GPS unit while driving. I don’t even remotely begin to understand the ramifications of outside influences on modern electronics.
A lack of understanding, however, should never be an excuse for not indulging in unfettered conjecture! I mean where would our Government, the Media or our economy be without irresponsible speculation? Every media outlet in the world would experience significant dead air if they had to wait for facts before broadcasting. And how would Economists or government Analysts spend their days if they had to base their work products on verifiable data?
I do know that the stuff that makes a car work can be controlled from a distance and that, with the right equipment what’s happening in a car can be monitored from somewhere else. The reason I’m hesitant about buying a car with a system like GM’s On Star or Ford’s Sync is because they provide too much information about what’s going on in your car. Can you imagine how disconcerting it would be to have your car remind you, as you and your date enjoyed the view at Lover’s Lane, that now might be a good time to think about protection. Or to have it tell you that you’re going 40 in a 35 mile per hour zone and that the next notification will go to the local police department.
Damn, having your own car narc on you; that’s why we drive the classics. With them the only limits are horsepower, the weight of your foot and how loud your passenger can squeal!
Just kidding, I love my Toyota and the only flaw I’ve found in driving it for over a year is the way the radio comes on all by itself when I hit a bump. Not every time I hit a bump but, every once in a while the radio just comes on. I shut it off and, almost every time it comes on again just to show me who’s boss. To be fair, it’s never come on after I shut it off for the second time.
We’ve all heard explanations about how floor mats can cause the gas pedal to stick but I think that’s probably not the reason Toyotas have been experiencing SAS (sudden acceleration syndrome). With so many drive-by-wire systems and onboard computers we all know what (or who) is the culprit. Even though my Toyota isn’t a 2001 I’ve named the computer Hal. I figure if while I’m driving I keep unflattering comments to myself and give him nothing to get annoyed about, Hal will do just fine by me.
My old Chevy has suffered problems that remind me of Toyota’s even though I know it doesn’t have a computer. The Chevy has experienced both SDS (sudden deceleration syndrome) and DTJQR (damn thing just quit running) on two occasions. While not as terrifying as having your Prius speed out-of-control at lots faster than anyone would ever think it could go, both SDS and DTJQR are disconcerting (polite talk for it flat pisses me off) in a ’56 Chevy. And I’m certainly glad I have AAA!
One solution I’ve heard is to rename all Toyotas “Christine” but I’m not convinced that will fix much. In the first place I’m not so sure the problem lies solely with each Toyota and it’s computer. I mean, sure, it’s the car and the computer that are experiencing the glitch but maybe the glitch is being caused by something external. Like driving too close to a WIFI hotspot or using a cell phone or GPS unit while driving. I don’t even remotely begin to understand the ramifications of outside influences on modern electronics.
A lack of understanding, however, should never be an excuse for not indulging in unfettered conjecture! I mean where would our Government, the Media or our economy be without irresponsible speculation? Every media outlet in the world would experience significant dead air if they had to wait for facts before broadcasting. And how would Economists or government Analysts spend their days if they had to base their work products on verifiable data?
I do know that the stuff that makes a car work can be controlled from a distance and that, with the right equipment what’s happening in a car can be monitored from somewhere else. The reason I’m hesitant about buying a car with a system like GM’s On Star or Ford’s Sync is because they provide too much information about what’s going on in your car. Can you imagine how disconcerting it would be to have your car remind you, as you and your date enjoyed the view at Lover’s Lane, that now might be a good time to think about protection. Or to have it tell you that you’re going 40 in a 35 mile per hour zone and that the next notification will go to the local police department.
Damn, having your own car narc on you; that’s why we drive the classics. With them the only limits are horsepower, the weight of your foot and how loud your passenger can squeal!
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy
As a card-carrying Baby-Boomer I’ve been thinking a lot lately of re-writing history from the viewpoint of my generation. What better a vantage point for looking at the world of the last sixty-some years; my fellow boomers and I have witnessed (and perpetrated) some amazing and truly significant stuff! Realistically, I’ve mostly witnessed, but some boomers have actually contributed big time.
None of us can take credit for some of the things that mean a lot in the context of baby boomers as car guys. We weren’t around for the development of Tri-five Chevys, for instance. That’s not to say we weren’t totally responsible for preserving them as American Automotive Icons and insuring that succeeding generations also appreciate them. And, if it wasn’t for us, the Muscle Car would never have happened; you think it was our parents who bought all those GTOs, Mustangs and Chevelles? They may have been designed and built by our parents generation but they were for US!
Yup, before we were in a position to actually do important stuff a lot of important stuff was done for us. Think about it: drive-in movies and restaurants; 45-rpm records, transistor radios and eight-track tapes; tract homes and supermarkets, interstate highways, cable television. These are part of our heritage, some of what our parents made sure was available for us. Bless their hearts; they’d just gone through the Depression and World War II and they wanted to make sure we had it better than they did. Honestly, no generation in history had ever done as much to make things better for their kids than our parents’ generation did!
Our parents left us with Rock and Roll, small-block Chevys, Mr. & Mrs. Cleaver and the fastest growing, most rapidly changing world in history. I’d like to think we met the challenge and carried on the tradition; left a big load and a great example for our kids and their kids.
Looking back I have to think we also succeeded; we left plenty for the generations that followed us. Baby Boomers can take credit for many things that add character to the lives of subsequent generations: heavy metal and disco, the ‘70’s and ‘80’s, Big Macs and Macintosh computers (PC’s, too). Although we can’t take credit for political-correctness we can certainly take a bow for elevating it to an art form.
Getting back to what’s important; we took the Jeep from the previous generation and turned it into an SUV. Put one in darn-near every driveway in America, too. Harley-Davidsons were motorcycles when we started riding them; now they’re a lifestyle. Earlier generations put a car in every garage, we upped the ante to three or four, sometimes more.
I guess the hardest part of growing older is the realization that stuff is being done by and for a younger generation. It’s our kids, and their kids, who are in charge now and they are doing what they want, the way they want. All my life it was the older generation that was running things; all of a sudden the President is just barely in our generation. And movie and sports stars are the same age as our grand kids. There was a time when I couldn’t understand my parents’ objection to the things I did and the way I did them. Now I know exactly how they felt!
If there is an upside to all of this it is that I’m getting to the point where I welcome someone else taking the heat; it’s suddenly good to not have to be responsible for the fate of the world. Good thing, too, because I really don’t think I’m up to the job any more. Thanks both to my parent and my kids!
None of us can take credit for some of the things that mean a lot in the context of baby boomers as car guys. We weren’t around for the development of Tri-five Chevys, for instance. That’s not to say we weren’t totally responsible for preserving them as American Automotive Icons and insuring that succeeding generations also appreciate them. And, if it wasn’t for us, the Muscle Car would never have happened; you think it was our parents who bought all those GTOs, Mustangs and Chevelles? They may have been designed and built by our parents generation but they were for US!
Yup, before we were in a position to actually do important stuff a lot of important stuff was done for us. Think about it: drive-in movies and restaurants; 45-rpm records, transistor radios and eight-track tapes; tract homes and supermarkets, interstate highways, cable television. These are part of our heritage, some of what our parents made sure was available for us. Bless their hearts; they’d just gone through the Depression and World War II and they wanted to make sure we had it better than they did. Honestly, no generation in history had ever done as much to make things better for their kids than our parents’ generation did!
Our parents left us with Rock and Roll, small-block Chevys, Mr. & Mrs. Cleaver and the fastest growing, most rapidly changing world in history. I’d like to think we met the challenge and carried on the tradition; left a big load and a great example for our kids and their kids.
Looking back I have to think we also succeeded; we left plenty for the generations that followed us. Baby Boomers can take credit for many things that add character to the lives of subsequent generations: heavy metal and disco, the ‘70’s and ‘80’s, Big Macs and Macintosh computers (PC’s, too). Although we can’t take credit for political-correctness we can certainly take a bow for elevating it to an art form.
Getting back to what’s important; we took the Jeep from the previous generation and turned it into an SUV. Put one in darn-near every driveway in America, too. Harley-Davidsons were motorcycles when we started riding them; now they’re a lifestyle. Earlier generations put a car in every garage, we upped the ante to three or four, sometimes more.
I guess the hardest part of growing older is the realization that stuff is being done by and for a younger generation. It’s our kids, and their kids, who are in charge now and they are doing what they want, the way they want. All my life it was the older generation that was running things; all of a sudden the President is just barely in our generation. And movie and sports stars are the same age as our grand kids. There was a time when I couldn’t understand my parents’ objection to the things I did and the way I did them. Now I know exactly how they felt!
If there is an upside to all of this it is that I’m getting to the point where I welcome someone else taking the heat; it’s suddenly good to not have to be responsible for the fate of the world. Good thing, too, because I really don’t think I’m up to the job any more. Thanks both to my parent and my kids!
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