I currently have two Firefox windows open. I opened the second one to write this post, and that's all that's on it. The first window, on the other hand, has nine tabs open.
Tab #1: An eBay Motors listing for a 2010 GT500 in Texas. Red with Tungsten stripes. Pretty nice.
Tab #2: Take a guess.
Tab #3: Try again.
Tab #4: A trend might be emerging here.
Tab #5: Trend? What's that?
Tabs #6 through #9: Pictures of the four things depicted above.
For the record, I didn't set this layout up for this post. I set it up to demonstrate to my little brother the simple and uncontested fact of life that "Ferraris all sound like that anyway". This came up while he was pushing Hot Wheels cars around a track, and asked me which of three cars would probably win a race. The three cars? A 512 Testarossa, F50, and 156 (look 'em up). I responded with the F50. He went "Ah, OK". I then proceeded to say that the 156 would probably sound better, though (despite the fact that I can't seem to find a recording of one. Come on, it's a Ferrari with open exhaust. It can't be that bad.), and gave the above quote.
Thus, I put this presentation together. Upon its conclusion, he nodded his head and said "Yeah, OK" and went back to watching TV. I get the feeling I'll need a different candidate for my successor in the car-fan business. The F430 should be able to win even the most die-hard Prius-lover into an appreciation for the higher-powered things in life. If that doesn't work, and I'm trying to convert someone to the Church of Horsepower (that's not blasphemous, is it?), then I resort to the old tricks:
Bahaha. I think it just might be a bad thing that I hear that and laugh maniacally about just what I'll be doing to the Mustang once it turns 25 and it doesn't have to meet emissions standards anymore...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
We hates them forever...
... not the Hobbits. The bugs. Specifically the big ones that scuttle about and spread disease and make certain individuals abandon their personal quarters due to insectoid infestation.
My little brother has a rather large dresser in our room. It has six drawers, three on each side. The drawers do not sit directly on the floor. Instead, there is a small trim piece that is about three inches high. This trim area is hollow, and thus creates a nifty hiding spot for objects of varying sizes. Normally, the dresser sits against the wall, but recently I moved it out to see if any little LEGO pieces had fallen back behind it, as they are wont to do.
The dresser is far too heavy to pick up and move both sides away from the wall, so I tend to move just one side, pivoting it against the wall in a manner reminiscent of opening a pair of scissors. Once I had done this and cleared away all the dust, I observed a small object on the far end, where I couldn't reach it. Rats. I asked for my brother's toy extendable claw, but couldn't reach it even with that. I then moved the dresser a little farther out, so the object could be more clearly perceived. One side was very geometric, like a cube. The other side, more disturbingly, had legs.
With some trepidation, I used the claw to poke the object to see if it was alive. It appeared to be quite dead. Heartened by this result, I grabbed the object (from a safe distance, of course) and pulled it out.
It was a giant ant.
From a LEGO Indiana Jones set.
Made of plastic.
Urgh... why do I think of Shakespeare?
My little brother has a rather large dresser in our room. It has six drawers, three on each side. The drawers do not sit directly on the floor. Instead, there is a small trim piece that is about three inches high. This trim area is hollow, and thus creates a nifty hiding spot for objects of varying sizes. Normally, the dresser sits against the wall, but recently I moved it out to see if any little LEGO pieces had fallen back behind it, as they are wont to do.
The dresser is far too heavy to pick up and move both sides away from the wall, so I tend to move just one side, pivoting it against the wall in a manner reminiscent of opening a pair of scissors. Once I had done this and cleared away all the dust, I observed a small object on the far end, where I couldn't reach it. Rats. I asked for my brother's toy extendable claw, but couldn't reach it even with that. I then moved the dresser a little farther out, so the object could be more clearly perceived. One side was very geometric, like a cube. The other side, more disturbingly, had legs.
With some trepidation, I used the claw to poke the object to see if it was alive. It appeared to be quite dead. Heartened by this result, I grabbed the object (from a safe distance, of course) and pulled it out.
It was a giant ant.
From a LEGO Indiana Jones set.
Made of plastic.
Urgh... why do I think of Shakespeare?
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
I'm hooked.
I was cleaning up our upstairs and discovered a radio.
That's not actually true, as I'd known that it was there and that it was still in working order for quite some time. It's got fake woodgrain on it, but the local stations come through loud and clear as long as you've got the volume dial in the right place and don't make too many sudden movements.
I got a novel idea as I stared at the radio, sitting there all dusty and dirty. Wouldn't it be nice if I could listen to music without having to charge my MP3 player? (Actually, the player is broken. It won't let you put anything new on it, so all that's on there is the Michael Voris tapes from a good while back.)
Therefore, I decided that this long-neglected radio would look very nice on my shelf, blasting classic rock while I wrote or worked on something. I dusted it off and made sure it was still in operating condition before taking it downstairs and plugging it in in my room. The shelf needed a great deal of reorganizing and dusting to fit the radio, and as a result the rest of the room got a dusting to fit the excess items from the shelf. After cleaning the shelf off and carefully placing the radio atop it, I turned it on and tuned it to the classic rock station. After the announcer began talking, I decided that I didn't want to listen to him. Turned the knob to the country station. I very quickly decided that that particular station wasn't what I wanted to listen to. Turned it to the classic oldies station, and realized that it didn't actually bother me (unlike the rest of the family), despite the fact that "Yellow Submarine" was on.
I mentioned that to my mom, and she looked up "Blue Suede Shoes". That got me thinking about some early '60s songs I'd heard of before, but I hadn't listened to them before because I was worried that they weren't clean. I didn't know at the time that "not-clean" just wasn't something you did in 1963. So we looked up a little ditty by the name of "Little Deuce Coupe".
Now I can't stop listening to it. Actually, I'm listening to "GTO" by Ronny and the Daytonas as I write this. That song, "Little Deuce Coupe", and "409" are my new portfolio of songs I listen to that aren't Weird Al or Vivaldi. Eclectic? Sure. Doesn't bother me very much.
I'm amazed and pleasantly surprised by the wealth of decent music out there. You just can't limit your search to newer songs.
Besides, if the music of the Fifties and Sixties doesn't work out for you, there's always Vivaldi.
That's not actually true, as I'd known that it was there and that it was still in working order for quite some time. It's got fake woodgrain on it, but the local stations come through loud and clear as long as you've got the volume dial in the right place and don't make too many sudden movements.
I got a novel idea as I stared at the radio, sitting there all dusty and dirty. Wouldn't it be nice if I could listen to music without having to charge my MP3 player? (Actually, the player is broken. It won't let you put anything new on it, so all that's on there is the Michael Voris tapes from a good while back.)
Therefore, I decided that this long-neglected radio would look very nice on my shelf, blasting classic rock while I wrote or worked on something. I dusted it off and made sure it was still in operating condition before taking it downstairs and plugging it in in my room. The shelf needed a great deal of reorganizing and dusting to fit the radio, and as a result the rest of the room got a dusting to fit the excess items from the shelf. After cleaning the shelf off and carefully placing the radio atop it, I turned it on and tuned it to the classic rock station. After the announcer began talking, I decided that I didn't want to listen to him. Turned the knob to the country station. I very quickly decided that that particular station wasn't what I wanted to listen to. Turned it to the classic oldies station, and realized that it didn't actually bother me (unlike the rest of the family), despite the fact that "Yellow Submarine" was on.
I mentioned that to my mom, and she looked up "Blue Suede Shoes". That got me thinking about some early '60s songs I'd heard of before, but I hadn't listened to them before because I was worried that they weren't clean. I didn't know at the time that "not-clean" just wasn't something you did in 1963. So we looked up a little ditty by the name of "Little Deuce Coupe".
Now I can't stop listening to it. Actually, I'm listening to "GTO" by Ronny and the Daytonas as I write this. That song, "Little Deuce Coupe", and "409" are my new portfolio of songs I listen to that aren't Weird Al or Vivaldi. Eclectic? Sure. Doesn't bother me very much.
I'm amazed and pleasantly surprised by the wealth of decent music out there. You just can't limit your search to newer songs.
Besides, if the music of the Fifties and Sixties doesn't work out for you, there's always Vivaldi.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Psychology
I recently had a dream. Interesting, I know. Here's how it went:
I had to head to church to serve a Mass, but there were no cars for me to use. So I located a generic dirt bike (had an uncanny resemblance to a KTM 125 SX), and rode to church. The road had been transformed into a rally stage, and there were people cutting down the trees around the road with chainsaws and tossing large branches into the road, so I had to dodge those. In addition to that, I had to dodge Tour de France bicyclists, which were heading through that area for no reason whatsoever. This was made difficult by the road surface, which was compacted gravel and felt like the generic post-Apocalyptic-scenario-type road.
I was very late, but eventually got there. There were about 7 other servers there and my size cassock was taken, so I wore one that was two sizes too small. At the Sign of Peace, people started throwing strange orange and purple pieces of paper around. One particularly unruly attendee made a purple one into a paper airplane and struck one of my fellow servers with it, knocking him to the floor. At this point, I realized that something was quite wrong and left.
My bike had been stolen, but the thief had left a Dodge Omni behind, which I utilized for my return trip. The logs and bicyclists had only gotten worse, and now there were lawn tractors spraying freshly cut grass all over the road. I took the smell to be that of chemical weapons, so every time I had to swerve to avoid a bicyclist, I took care to aim for the nearest autonomous tractor. I got home, parked the Omni, and went inside.
Using my extensive skill, knowledge, education, experience, and training in the area of Freudian psychology, I deduce that my dream means.... absolutely nothing. Oh well.
I had to head to church to serve a Mass, but there were no cars for me to use. So I located a generic dirt bike (had an uncanny resemblance to a KTM 125 SX), and rode to church. The road had been transformed into a rally stage, and there were people cutting down the trees around the road with chainsaws and tossing large branches into the road, so I had to dodge those. In addition to that, I had to dodge Tour de France bicyclists, which were heading through that area for no reason whatsoever. This was made difficult by the road surface, which was compacted gravel and felt like the generic post-Apocalyptic-scenario-type road.
I was very late, but eventually got there. There were about 7 other servers there and my size cassock was taken, so I wore one that was two sizes too small. At the Sign of Peace, people started throwing strange orange and purple pieces of paper around. One particularly unruly attendee made a purple one into a paper airplane and struck one of my fellow servers with it, knocking him to the floor. At this point, I realized that something was quite wrong and left.
My bike had been stolen, but the thief had left a Dodge Omni behind, which I utilized for my return trip. The logs and bicyclists had only gotten worse, and now there were lawn tractors spraying freshly cut grass all over the road. I took the smell to be that of chemical weapons, so every time I had to swerve to avoid a bicyclist, I took care to aim for the nearest autonomous tractor. I got home, parked the Omni, and went inside.
Using my extensive skill, knowledge, education, experience, and training in the area of Freudian psychology, I deduce that my dream means.... absolutely nothing. Oh well.
Whiners
Normally, whiners are annoying. "Gemmeadrinkawaterchangethechannelwhydontyouwannagivemeeverythingyouownwaaaaa...."
However, blower whine is a good thing. Some people hate it, but I like it. For an example of turbo whine, see this:
To illustrate just how pronounced the blower whine is on the Atom III, observe the KTM X-Bow (pronounced "crossbow"), which, although the same class of car, and turbocharged, has much more exhaust noise and less whine. In fact, there's hardly any whine at all.
For supercharger whine, see this:
Blower whine is often obscured by exhaust noise, since when there's a blower powerful enough to make some noise, the exhaust is even louder. The video above this text was taken by a camera affixed to the front fender. Here's a very similar pass, this time from the rear fender:
\
Lethal's GT500 is one of my favorite customs to write about, as it's been masterfully done. GT500 + black/Grabber Blue + full race motor, exhaust, the works + YouTube = awesome. The only problem with it is that it doesn't get much street time, and I'd love to wax poetic about it, but I'm currently ill and can't write very well. Happily, the videos speak for themselves.
Sometimes, blower whine doesn't come from blowers. Our naturally aspirated 3.8 Mustang V6 makes a blower-esque noise in third gear. It's simply a T5 thing. Straight cut gears also tend to make a whining noise, but there aren't very many vehicles sold now with non-synchronized transmissions.
I seem to be out of stuff to write, so we'll close with my favorite pickup truck of all time that really ought to have a supercharger on it:
However, blower whine is a good thing. Some people hate it, but I like it. For an example of turbo whine, see this:
To illustrate just how pronounced the blower whine is on the Atom III, observe the KTM X-Bow (pronounced "crossbow"), which, although the same class of car, and turbocharged, has much more exhaust noise and less whine. In fact, there's hardly any whine at all.
For supercharger whine, see this:
Blower whine is often obscured by exhaust noise, since when there's a blower powerful enough to make some noise, the exhaust is even louder. The video above this text was taken by a camera affixed to the front fender. Here's a very similar pass, this time from the rear fender:
\
Lethal's GT500 is one of my favorite customs to write about, as it's been masterfully done. GT500 + black/Grabber Blue + full race motor, exhaust, the works + YouTube = awesome. The only problem with it is that it doesn't get much street time, and I'd love to wax poetic about it, but I'm currently ill and can't write very well. Happily, the videos speak for themselves.
Sometimes, blower whine doesn't come from blowers. Our naturally aspirated 3.8 Mustang V6 makes a blower-esque noise in third gear. It's simply a T5 thing. Straight cut gears also tend to make a whining noise, but there aren't very many vehicles sold now with non-synchronized transmissions.
I seem to be out of stuff to write, so we'll close with my favorite pickup truck of all time that really ought to have a supercharger on it:
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