Politics, Stupidity plain and simple

Motorcycles emit pollution. Get over it.

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Introductory lede:

It’s a popular misconception that motorcycles burn cleaner than cars: most of them don’t. – wheels.ca, Costa Mouzouris

Next paragraph:

In fact, the only reason that they spew fewer greenhouse gas emissions into the air than four-wheeled passenger vehicles…

So which is it? Do they? Or, don’t they?

all current models (of motorcycles) meet North American emissions standards…

That kinda sums it up for me.

He’s not done yet though. He concludes with

the fumes emitted by those dual, upswept mufflers are still not up to the standards that they should be…

I’m left wondering just what those fume emission standards should be for motorcycles with “dual, upswept mufflers”. Who has dual, upswept mufflers on their motorcycles? Who might ride motorcycles with dual, upswept mufflers? Does he mean biker motorcycles? Just some motorcycles? All motorcycles? Does the author know or understand the difference between a motorcycle and a scooter? Does he know that two-cycle engines burn oil mixed with gas?

Link to article here.

I’ve read the article several times now, and I’m still confused by it all. Although, I do understand that in Canada, there are approximately 18,000,000 passenger automobiles registered and 409,000 motorcycles. I’d say motorcycles are the least of the problem during the five-month riding season and seven months of heavy-sledding-winter for which Canada is renowned.

Here’s a link to a 2001 British study that demonstrated the following conclusion:

The overall emissions from motorcycles are low in comparison with other road vehicles and are not expected to grow dramatically in mass terms.

Now then, if only we could regulate how long those Torontonians wearing their frost-stained long-johns idle their automobiles to keep warm while commuting. That would be an accomplishment.

Politics, Stupidity plain and simple

MADD will never be satisfied…

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until bars are closed and liquor is taken off of the market. We all know how successful prohibition was back in the day.

There will be no keeping MADD® happy, just as there has been no keeping them happy in the past – until every ounce of liquor is outright declared illegal and poured into the streets; until every bar is shut down and turned into a glee club; until every motor vehicle is equipped with some sort of breath interlock; until every person bows to the authority and influence of MADD and it’s crazy desire to eliminate something that can’t be eliminated.

Mothers: responsible for warm, fuzzy feelings. Nobody wants to fight that image.

Against: everything.

Drunk: ban liquor.

Driving: that’s only a start. Wait until we get them mothers rolling against guns, prostitution, drugs and improper thinking.

MADD in Canada has gone the extra mile to lobby politicians – with the not unbiased support of law enforcement – to ensure that the Canadian Constitution takes a back seat to the MADD agenda, whatever that agenda really is.

A proposed law permitting police to give random breathalyzers to drivers would save 400 lives a year in Canada, says the CEO of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) Canada. – edmontonsun.com

…the recent MADD conference praised the notion of giving police the power to randomly perform breathalyzers on drivers regardless of whether or not they’re suspected of drinking.

Just great. The bullshit never ends, and with it there goes the right against unreasonable search and seizure, sponsored by a bunch of whiners in favor of closing bars and reinstating prohibition. I’m fed up with the constant whining and sniveling these people do to try and force me to listen to, and to participate in, their agenda to keep themselves happy.

My recommendation for the harridans of MADD: try and get the police up off of their round, fat, donut-laden asses and have them enforce existing laws. Perhaps then the police just might crawl out of their cruisers long enough to stop whining about not having the power to do this, control that, or arrest anyone for practically anything. After all, the cops have all the tasers, and they just love to use them.

Screw MADD. Take the mad motherfuckers and the incessant whining and sniveling that they feel that they must stuff down my throat and up my ass and let them shove it up their own asses.

Disclaimer #1: I drive.

Dislcaimer #2: I don’t drink.

So then…

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. And take your mongoloid mangled accident victims with you.

*     *     *

Modern Drunkard Magazine has a pretty good takedown of MADD here.

Politics, Stupidity plain and simple

Like your hamburgers, do you?

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Where’s the beef?

Probably rotting in the abattoir and the meat-packing plant.

You might not be so quick to go fast-food or fire up the barbie after reading this article from the New York Times on the meat inspection process, or lack thereof. It’s lengthy, but it covers all the bases.

And across the line in Canada, things are not so well-done either.

The bottom line? If you want real hamburger meat, buy a steak from your favorite butcher and have him grind it on-site for you.

Afterthought: How thoroughly does he clean his meat grinder?

Long trips, On the road, Personal

Snacking on the road

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I like to ride long distances when I get out on the road. Stopping to eat in a restaurant is a real treat during those times, but it eats up time when I’d rather be out on the blacktop making distance. I like to get on the road early and put in at least a couple of hundred before breakfast.

So what do I do?

A&W.

You can get a pretty good eggs-over-easy and wheat toast at an A&W. It’s quick, it’s hot, and it’s hard to screw up eggs – although not impossible for some places. I don’t bother with the bacon or the potatoes. Who needs that deep-fried grease first thing in the morning laying like a lump in your stomach until noon?

Occasionally – but not often – I’ll get stuck and try an eat’n’puke, but for the most part I’ve learned my lesson and ignore them completely. My one exception: Tim Horton’s for breakfast, although, strictly speaking, Tim Horton’s is no eat’n’puke. It’s very good food. A late-afternoon stop for soup and a sandwich isn’t to be trifled with should I manage to find one en route.

The CLIF Bar
The CLIF Bar

My personal favorite snack bar is a CLIF bar. It comes in a foil pouch, and packs excellent taste into a small package. In texture, it’s much like a granola bar, although it’s soft, moist and very chewy. I’m not going to go into the relative merits of one bar over the other, since a simple search will pull up all of that information.

Added bonus: CLIF bars can be bought in bulk at any Costco. Each box will come with enough flavors to keep from getting bored with the taste.

When I want to spend time chewing, I pick up some dried beef and stuff it in a fairing pocket. Despite its salt content, I’ll snack on that for a few miles while giving my jaw a pretty good workout. Unfortunately, the salt content is a little high to make it a regular treat, so I don’t buy beef jerky all that often.

Most important of all is staying hydrated. Drinking plenty of fluids can’t be over-emphasized, and the best fluid is water, bar none.

Hardware/Software

Hard drive enclosure blues

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I‘ve experimented with a number of hard drive enclosures. To date, I’ve not had much success with AcomData or MadDog. Both of these hard drive enclosures have turned out to be unreliable, to say the least.

  • I could never get the AcomData to work out of the box.
  • The MadDog stopped working a couple of days ago, although the disk inside is still good. I guess that makes it a real dog.

Both the AcomData and the MadDog took IDE drives, not so up-to-date any longer.

So, just to further muddy the waters, I’m trying a LanDisk 3.5″ enclosure, model GXT-MS348S with a USB2.0 and LAN interface. It requires a SATA hard drive on the inside.

We’ll see how it goes.

LanDisk 3.5 MS 348
LanDisk 3.5 MS-348 USB with LAN interface
Personal

Fire in the hole – epilogue

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Quite happily, there were no injuries of any kind to anyone. Beyond that, there’s not much to report.

A little smoke filtered through to my place, but didn’t permeate every room, since I had closed all of my doors before exiting. I’ve already dusted and vacuumed furniture and floors and done all that I want to do, because I just can’t sit around. Officially it’s fall, so I call it my fall cleaning program, early though it is.

Professional cleaners will be doing their thing sometime today or tomorrow. Certainly, the walls and carpet will get some steaming when they show up. Whatever else they do I’ll leave up to them.

The neighbor’s place is another story. Unfortunately, no insurance is going to pay for the damage to her personal property, since she didn’t have any. I can’t believe that someone would live in a place and not have contents insurance, but to each their own.

We’re taking up a collection for her benefit, but it won’t pay to replace much.

Personal

Fire in the hole

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Last night, the peace and quiet of my wonderful abode was disturbed by a fire alarm and the smell of smoke coming from next door. Accustomed as I am to cockpit alarm bells and horns ringing, and a requirement to solve the problem in order to have them cease and desist, I grabbed my goodies (e.g. wallet, keys, glasses and shoes) and hit the road.

Yeah, yeah, I know. That didn’t stop any warning bells or sirens, but what the hell, I don’t fly any more either.

Truth be told, I didn’t hit the road forthwith.

I felt my door to try and determine if it was warm or hot to the touch. Ditto the doorknob. Nope. Check.

Back to collect the above-mentioned wallet, keys, glasses, shoes and, oh yeah, a pair of long pants. Check.

The nights are cool up here now.

Close open windows. Check.

Feel the door for heat one more time, open it and stick my head out. Check.

HOLY SHIT!

The floor is full of smoke!

Look left. Good to go that way. Check.

Look right. Some guy has a couple of fire extinguishers in hand and is battling a bright orange glow coming from an open door. Check. And…

Fuck that!

I exit post haste, close my door behind me and head left down the stairs and out the fucking door. Check.

Riding farther, seeing more