It's taken a while, but my first post on this blog.
I'm David, a longtime enthusiast for cars and just about anything that moves on wheels. So you'll be seeing me here discussing cars, planes, trains and whatnot when I find time and space. I'll especially focus on automotive history, a great passion of mine.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Finding The Art Within The Machine
For much of my life I've been fascinated with machines. Like many kids I played with Legos, Matchbox cars, and took apart broken alarm clocks to see what was inside. When I got older I began to take a different look at cars, aircraft, boats, and other machines in general. I began to not just look at them as being integrated systems of moving parts but rather as being an expression of the artist who created them.
I can remember looking at vehicles which I once thought were ugly and then later on saying to myself how beautiful I thought the same machine was. The most fascinating of all of them is the machinery of war. I can't remember where I first read the quote but it's one which has been echoed and paraphrased across many countries and cultures. People would work around the clock to come up with the latest helicopter, tank, boat, truck, or airplane because the urgency was critical. Their motivation was "If I don't design a better device then we will lose the war, we will be conquered, and we will lose our way of life." When you think about it that's some incredible motivation indeed.
Those words have always echoed in my head whenever I visit a museum. I look at the simple mechanisms which were crafted into military machines in order to save a few ounces of steel and make a machine more reliable in the process. I can't help but think that in all of this there is a certain level of expression and engineers want everyone to recognize their signature. These little signatures are not always appreciated by looking in photos or waltzing by an old jeep and spending 5 seconds to look at it. The brilliance within the design has to be analyzed and appreciated for the work of art it truly is.
My full-time job is as an Aviation Structural Mechanic in the United States Navy. The job has given me thousands of hours of time analyzing both brilliant and bad designs in aircraft: and then fixing them when they break. In my part time I have been helping the U.S. Army Transportation Museum at Ft. Eustis to restore some of their aircraft on display. My wife and I were walking through the museum and I stopped to look at the dusty old aircraft designed by people who were fearful that communists would destroy the American way of life. I volunteered to help the museum restore some of these pieces of history to their former glory.
With great help from co-workers and some Army Sergeants we have spent countless hours uncovering dust, busting rust, and revealing the beautifully simple and elegant artwork beneath the surface. It's the kind of beauty that a physicist or mathematician says they see in a board full of equations. It's the beauty that a metal-smith sees in a perfectly spaced set of rivets. It's the same beauty that a race car designer sees in a winning car. Nobody can really explain it to you because like all other artwork you simply have to see it for yourself. It's there, you just have to take the time to appreciate it.
I think the average person needs to slow down and take a second look at many machines just like I have. You may find the work of art that lies within. It may be beneath a layer of dirt and corrosion but trust me it is there.
I can remember looking at vehicles which I once thought were ugly and then later on saying to myself how beautiful I thought the same machine was. The most fascinating of all of them is the machinery of war. I can't remember where I first read the quote but it's one which has been echoed and paraphrased across many countries and cultures. People would work around the clock to come up with the latest helicopter, tank, boat, truck, or airplane because the urgency was critical. Their motivation was "If I don't design a better device then we will lose the war, we will be conquered, and we will lose our way of life." When you think about it that's some incredible motivation indeed.
Those words have always echoed in my head whenever I visit a museum. I look at the simple mechanisms which were crafted into military machines in order to save a few ounces of steel and make a machine more reliable in the process. I can't help but think that in all of this there is a certain level of expression and engineers want everyone to recognize their signature. These little signatures are not always appreciated by looking in photos or waltzing by an old jeep and spending 5 seconds to look at it. The brilliance within the design has to be analyzed and appreciated for the work of art it truly is.
My full-time job is as an Aviation Structural Mechanic in the United States Navy. The job has given me thousands of hours of time analyzing both brilliant and bad designs in aircraft: and then fixing them when they break. In my part time I have been helping the U.S. Army Transportation Museum at Ft. Eustis to restore some of their aircraft on display. My wife and I were walking through the museum and I stopped to look at the dusty old aircraft designed by people who were fearful that communists would destroy the American way of life. I volunteered to help the museum restore some of these pieces of history to their former glory.
With great help from co-workers and some Army Sergeants we have spent countless hours uncovering dust, busting rust, and revealing the beautifully simple and elegant artwork beneath the surface. It's the kind of beauty that a physicist or mathematician says they see in a board full of equations. It's the beauty that a metal-smith sees in a perfectly spaced set of rivets. It's the same beauty that a race car designer sees in a winning car. Nobody can really explain it to you because like all other artwork you simply have to see it for yourself. It's there, you just have to take the time to appreciate it.
I think the average person needs to slow down and take a second look at many machines just like I have. You may find the work of art that lies within. It may be beneath a layer of dirt and corrosion but trust me it is there.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
On Kinetic Energy
Food for thought: A 150 pound person traveling 35 mph has the same amount of kinetic energy as twelve 9mm bullets (115.0 gr @ 1430 ft/s).
Wear your seatbelt. Make sure your passengers wear theirs.
Wear your seatbelt. Make sure your passengers wear theirs.
Friday, October 22, 2010
An Open Letter To High-End Tuners
An open letter to all "high-end" automotive tuners out there:
I hate you. Seriously, I do. I'm sorry if that was harsh, if it hurt your feelings, but I don't feel it helps anybody to sugarcoat things, even if it spares your superinflated, mega-bespoilered, ultrazord-combat-kitted egos.
I feel like that one guy from Jurassic Park, questioning the really cool things that the scientists were creating when he commented that they should have asked whether they should clone dinosaurs before proving that they could. (I mean, making new dinosaurs? How freakin' cool is that?!) But, somebody has to be the naysayer, somebody has to take y'all down a notch or fifty.
You guys, generally as a lot, are capable of creating some amazing cars! You have the talent of taking already incredible powertrains, and turning them into the sort of devices that could propel bricks into orbit. Instead of a gas pedal, some of your cars should come equipped with Patrick Stewart sitting in the passenger seat saying, "Engage!" I'm all for it.
More power: Oh yes!
Wider tires: Yes please.
Improved suspension: Definitely!
Lowered ride height: That's the spirit!
Cool new technologies: Sure, OK.
Bigger wheels: Yeah, within reason.
But that's about where it falls apart. I mean, just as you are capable of creating drivetrains and running gear that are completely off the hizzy, you are equally as talented at COMPLETELY SCREWING UP great designs.
It's amazing, I've been looking around, and pretty much all of the major car manufacturers are putting out great, clean designs. Save a couple companies (you know who you are) who like to slap concave surfaces and/or excessive flares on their current lineup (I won't name any names, BMW and Mercedes), pretty much everybody is doing a good job. Plus, most of the high-end companies like Bentley, Lamborghini, Porsche, and Audi are turning out exceptionally clean and classy designs.
Then you get your hands on them.
I don't know what goes through your minds, but I have a feeling the internal conversations go something like this: "Muwahahahaaaaa, we've installed a 700 horsepower engine and eight speed tranmission with ceramic clutch in this supercar, our work is almost complete! Now all we have to do is add two additional spoilers, ground effects tunnels, six more vents, twelve louvers in the decklid, twenty strakes, some mesh grilles, and some kind of decorative window thingy to change the shape of the rear window..."
It is at this point in your conversation in which I could smack you.
Please, all of you tuners, pay particularly close attention now: STOP IT! Just stop it! SOMETIMES, LESS IS MORE.
I'm incredibly disappointed with most of you. I feel like some who've been around for a long time (Alois, I'm talking to you too) have let me down. Seriously, I feel it on a personal level. In talking about this with other enthusiasts, I've learned that many of them feel the same.
Some of you have never known anything better, you've always had a penchant for slapping gigantic cascading wings with useless strakes on timeless designs, or you've always thought that a Gulf-liveried 700-hp SUV rolling on 26-inch wheels and 25-series rubber would be an excellent idea. I don't know what to do with you guys, you're my bad kids who I just want to put up on the black market. Let somebody else deal with your issues. Maybe if I ignore you, you'll move out.
But you others, there's still hope for you. Ruf, Abt, Hamann, et al: It isn't too late. Step away from the sketchbook, the pen is your lightsaber and you're too close to the dark side.
WOOT!
I hate you. Seriously, I do. I'm sorry if that was harsh, if it hurt your feelings, but I don't feel it helps anybody to sugarcoat things, even if it spares your superinflated, mega-bespoilered, ultrazord-combat-kitted egos.
I feel like that one guy from Jurassic Park, questioning the really cool things that the scientists were creating when he commented that they should have asked whether they should clone dinosaurs before proving that they could. (I mean, making new dinosaurs? How freakin' cool is that?!) But, somebody has to be the naysayer, somebody has to take y'all down a notch or fifty.
You guys, generally as a lot, are capable of creating some amazing cars! You have the talent of taking already incredible powertrains, and turning them into the sort of devices that could propel bricks into orbit. Instead of a gas pedal, some of your cars should come equipped with Patrick Stewart sitting in the passenger seat saying, "Engage!" I'm all for it.
More power: Oh yes!
Wider tires: Yes please.
Improved suspension: Definitely!
Lowered ride height: That's the spirit!
Cool new technologies: Sure, OK.
Bigger wheels: Yeah, within reason.
But that's about where it falls apart. I mean, just as you are capable of creating drivetrains and running gear that are completely off the hizzy, you are equally as talented at COMPLETELY SCREWING UP great designs.
It's amazing, I've been looking around, and pretty much all of the major car manufacturers are putting out great, clean designs. Save a couple companies (you know who you are) who like to slap concave surfaces and/or excessive flares on their current lineup (I won't name any names, BMW and Mercedes), pretty much everybody is doing a good job. Plus, most of the high-end companies like Bentley, Lamborghini, Porsche, and Audi are turning out exceptionally clean and classy designs.
Then you get your hands on them.
I don't know what goes through your minds, but I have a feeling the internal conversations go something like this: "Muwahahahaaaaa, we've installed a 700 horsepower engine and eight speed tranmission with ceramic clutch in this supercar, our work is almost complete! Now all we have to do is add two additional spoilers, ground effects tunnels, six more vents, twelve louvers in the decklid, twenty strakes, some mesh grilles, and some kind of decorative window thingy to change the shape of the rear window..."
It is at this point in your conversation in which I could smack you.
Please, all of you tuners, pay particularly close attention now: STOP IT! Just stop it! SOMETIMES, LESS IS MORE.
I'm incredibly disappointed with most of you. I feel like some who've been around for a long time (Alois, I'm talking to you too) have let me down. Seriously, I feel it on a personal level. In talking about this with other enthusiasts, I've learned that many of them feel the same.
Some of you have never known anything better, you've always had a penchant for slapping gigantic cascading wings with useless strakes on timeless designs, or you've always thought that a Gulf-liveried 700-hp SUV rolling on 26-inch wheels and 25-series rubber would be an excellent idea. I don't know what to do with you guys, you're my bad kids who I just want to put up on the black market. Let somebody else deal with your issues. Maybe if I ignore you, you'll move out.
But you others, there's still hope for you. Ruf, Abt, Hamann, et al: It isn't too late. Step away from the sketchbook, the pen is your lightsaber and you're too close to the dark side.
Concentrate on what you know best: making awesome cars handle awesomer, turning fast cars into low-flying ballistic missiles. Concentrate on the science of making cars go fast, you'll remember what you once knew about the subtleties of aerodynamics and downforce - that it doesn't take much to keep a car planted at speed; just a flip here, a subtle wing there. Quit cladding on sculpted bodylines where there were none if they aren't needed. Scoops should be applied in moderation, and are best used for ice cream. Tunnels are for mountains, combat is for soldiers, and huge wings are for airplanes.
I have faith in you. You can stop the madness. Don't let me and my fellow enthusiasts down.
Gah!
Monday, October 18, 2010
Prom car
Prom was a very special thing growing up back in the '60s. If you didn't have a Prom date you were nothing. If you didn't have a prom car you were a dork. I was that dork. I had one of the prettiest girls in the school, but had to share the ugliest car with my mother. It was a 1968 Delmont 88 in Canary Yellow with a White painted top. It came that way from GM. Some dummy executive ordered it that way and wanted to dump it as soon as he could as soon as he saw it. To top it off it had a baby puke-green interior. By far the world's worst date car, let alone a Prom car. My father drove Lincolns at that time. Not a cool Prom car either. That and the fact that I was never allowed to drive it, but that's another story.
This story is about the Prom car that I ended up with. A neighbor of my parents was the manager of a Dodge dealership. He needed to have a fence installed around his new pool and I needed a Prom car. All I asked for was a nice car. I completed my task in about three days. He was very happy. The day of the Prom I still didn't know what he was bringing home, but he said it was something cool.
I got a call to come across the street to pick up the keys and saw a new Polara in his driveway. I wasn't happy, but I wasn't mad because it was miles better that the POS I had to drive. I walked into the driveway and said, "Nice car." He burst out laughing as he hit the garage remote in his pocket. My jaw dropped and I got a severe tingling in my nether parts.
It was a brand-new 1970 Dodge Challenger 440 RT 6-pack in Plumb Crazy with a white interior, top and stripe.
As he dangled the keys in front of me he said, "Two rules, no drag racing and no taking it out of state!" I was still speechless, so I just nodded my head as he gave me bad ideas.
My date, who is now my wife of 38 years, was, and is, a huge Mopar fan. In fact, the first time I got to see her bedroom I was expecting to see posters of movie and rock stars. No, she had blown up photos of mid-'60s Mopar hotrods that she had taken at Autorama in the '60s. I was stunned. I think it it was that moment that I fell out of lust and into love. OK, the lust was still there. The woman still has 30wt running through her veins.
OK, her reaction. Silence. That was unexpected. She was actually dumbstruck. I never honked the horn picking up a date, but this time I had to. I laid on it and I see the garage door open and her bruiser Puritan father exit with an evil look on his face. Honking for a date was considered very bad form. She however, opened the front door of the house and stood like a statue on the front porch, unable to move, or talk. As her father approached me I pointed to his daughter, and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was quite a sight to see.
Her sisters came running up to the car as my girlfriend screamed out, "Don't touch it!!!!!", and we all started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Pops mellowed, as he was a Chrysler engineer at the time. Once everyone started breathing again all was right with the world. I think she and her family were as surprised as I was.
Now, this was early on Prom Saturday so I had all day to burn up some gas. I lived at the corner of 13 & Southfield, 2 miles from the famous Woodward Avenue. Remember, this was the heyday of the muscle car and I had an out of the box race car at my disposal. I picked up my tux and went cruising up and down woodward, stopping at Ted's, Maverick and the Totem Pole. The car drew a crowd everywhere I went. I was approached by a cop and asked for ID. Luckily the dealership manager gave me some documents that made him go away.
I went home after burning up a whole tank of gas and was confronted with angry 'rents. Couldn't figure out why, didn't care, didn't stick around long enough to listen. Something about telling them what my plans were, who I was going to be with, where I was going to sleep. Walked away, took a shower, went down stairs, told them that they were not entitled to that information as I was already 18 and if they didn't like it, I would just keep driving. That shut them up because they knew I was right.
I picked her up, sans honking this time. She was lovely. She had just had her hair done, Prom style, but insisted that I put the top down. We drove to the banquet facility and was waved into the absolute "A" parking spot. Sat in the car talking for about 15 minutes while our classmates walked in. By the time we got in we were surrounded with admirers. I thought it was pretty damn funny since I didn't own the car. Maybe that was my first taste of 15 minutes of fame, but I loved it.
We ate an institutional, but filling meal and then the mirrored ball came on and the band started playing. I hate dancing but I fulfilled the obligatory dance requirement. We went back to the table and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. When I didn't come back in 20 minutes she went looking for me. She asked some people if they had seen me. The banquet hall had 10 men's room, it was so large. She enlisted some help to check them all. I was nowhere to be found. She saw one of my friends and asked if he had seen me. He told her, "He's out on Telegraph Rd. drag-racing for $20 bills". Telegraph was the second hottest road in the Detroit area for Westsiders.
She walked out of the facility and found our "A" spot empty. As I returned after what I thought was maybe 10 minutes she was standing in the middle of the spot with her arms folded, Ice Queen style. She move out of my way and was about to chew me a new one when I said, "I won enough to cover the Prom tickets so we have money to go to Cedar Point tomorrow!" That melted the chill. We went back to the dance and had a nice evening.
The next day we loaded up the car, disconnected the odometer and drove from Michigan to Ohio. Had a great time, got the worst wind burn of my life but generated some great memories.
Now that I had broken both of his rules I reconnected the speedo, washed all the freeway bugs off the grill and returned the car.
Now, I'm not advocating that kind of stupid behavior. Had something happened he would have had huge problems with his insurance company. He would have had had huge problems with the state as it had a dealer plate. Had something really bad happened they would have gone after the dealer, the deep pockets. However, my penis was doing most of my thinking at 18, and that was really stupid.
Still have the girl. Wish I had the car.
This story is about the Prom car that I ended up with. A neighbor of my parents was the manager of a Dodge dealership. He needed to have a fence installed around his new pool and I needed a Prom car. All I asked for was a nice car. I completed my task in about three days. He was very happy. The day of the Prom I still didn't know what he was bringing home, but he said it was something cool.
I got a call to come across the street to pick up the keys and saw a new Polara in his driveway. I wasn't happy, but I wasn't mad because it was miles better that the POS I had to drive. I walked into the driveway and said, "Nice car." He burst out laughing as he hit the garage remote in his pocket. My jaw dropped and I got a severe tingling in my nether parts.
It was a brand-new 1970 Dodge Challenger 440 RT 6-pack in Plumb Crazy with a white interior, top and stripe.
As he dangled the keys in front of me he said, "Two rules, no drag racing and no taking it out of state!" I was still speechless, so I just nodded my head as he gave me bad ideas.
My date, who is now my wife of 38 years, was, and is, a huge Mopar fan. In fact, the first time I got to see her bedroom I was expecting to see posters of movie and rock stars. No, she had blown up photos of mid-'60s Mopar hotrods that she had taken at Autorama in the '60s. I was stunned. I think it it was that moment that I fell out of lust and into love. OK, the lust was still there. The woman still has 30wt running through her veins.
OK, her reaction. Silence. That was unexpected. She was actually dumbstruck. I never honked the horn picking up a date, but this time I had to. I laid on it and I see the garage door open and her bruiser Puritan father exit with an evil look on his face. Honking for a date was considered very bad form. She however, opened the front door of the house and stood like a statue on the front porch, unable to move, or talk. As her father approached me I pointed to his daughter, and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was quite a sight to see.
Her sisters came running up to the car as my girlfriend screamed out, "Don't touch it!!!!!", and we all started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Pops mellowed, as he was a Chrysler engineer at the time. Once everyone started breathing again all was right with the world. I think she and her family were as surprised as I was.
Now, this was early on Prom Saturday so I had all day to burn up some gas. I lived at the corner of 13 & Southfield, 2 miles from the famous Woodward Avenue. Remember, this was the heyday of the muscle car and I had an out of the box race car at my disposal. I picked up my tux and went cruising up and down woodward, stopping at Ted's, Maverick and the Totem Pole. The car drew a crowd everywhere I went. I was approached by a cop and asked for ID. Luckily the dealership manager gave me some documents that made him go away.
I went home after burning up a whole tank of gas and was confronted with angry 'rents. Couldn't figure out why, didn't care, didn't stick around long enough to listen. Something about telling them what my plans were, who I was going to be with, where I was going to sleep. Walked away, took a shower, went down stairs, told them that they were not entitled to that information as I was already 18 and if they didn't like it, I would just keep driving. That shut them up because they knew I was right.
I picked her up, sans honking this time. She was lovely. She had just had her hair done, Prom style, but insisted that I put the top down. We drove to the banquet facility and was waved into the absolute "A" parking spot. Sat in the car talking for about 15 minutes while our classmates walked in. By the time we got in we were surrounded with admirers. I thought it was pretty damn funny since I didn't own the car. Maybe that was my first taste of 15 minutes of fame, but I loved it.
We ate an institutional, but filling meal and then the mirrored ball came on and the band started playing. I hate dancing but I fulfilled the obligatory dance requirement. We went back to the table and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. When I didn't come back in 20 minutes she went looking for me. She asked some people if they had seen me. The banquet hall had 10 men's room, it was so large. She enlisted some help to check them all. I was nowhere to be found. She saw one of my friends and asked if he had seen me. He told her, "He's out on Telegraph Rd. drag-racing for $20 bills". Telegraph was the second hottest road in the Detroit area for Westsiders.
She walked out of the facility and found our "A" spot empty. As I returned after what I thought was maybe 10 minutes she was standing in the middle of the spot with her arms folded, Ice Queen style. She move out of my way and was about to chew me a new one when I said, "I won enough to cover the Prom tickets so we have money to go to Cedar Point tomorrow!" That melted the chill. We went back to the dance and had a nice evening.
The next day we loaded up the car, disconnected the odometer and drove from Michigan to Ohio. Had a great time, got the worst wind burn of my life but generated some great memories.
Now that I had broken both of his rules I reconnected the speedo, washed all the freeway bugs off the grill and returned the car.
Now, I'm not advocating that kind of stupid behavior. Had something happened he would have had huge problems with his insurance company. He would have had had huge problems with the state as it had a dealer plate. Had something really bad happened they would have gone after the dealer, the deep pockets. However, my penis was doing most of my thinking at 18, and that was really stupid.
Still have the girl. Wish I had the car.
Friday, October 15, 2010
FIRST!
Welcome to Stuff That Goes, a blog about all of those awesome conveyances that get us from point a to point b. Some get us there with style, some get us there with a story to tell. Sometimes the story is about the vehicle, others it's about the people we meet and the experiences that we share along the way.
Some vehicles travel over land, some over water, or through the air - we'll cover them all. Whether you're a fan of pedal-power, turbines, propellers, props, pistons, rotors, solar, or electric - we hope to find news and stories that you'd like to know about.
If you'd like to be a contributing author, and you have a great story to tell, please submit it to the editor of this blog at cmxxviii@gmail.com. Thanks for reading, let's see what the journey has in store for us tomorrow...
-Rukh
Some vehicles travel over land, some over water, or through the air - we'll cover them all. Whether you're a fan of pedal-power, turbines, propellers, props, pistons, rotors, solar, or electric - we hope to find news and stories that you'd like to know about.
If you'd like to be a contributing author, and you have a great story to tell, please submit it to the editor of this blog at cmxxviii@gmail.com. Thanks for reading, let's see what the journey has in store for us tomorrow...
-Rukh
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)