Ouch! 6/30/2008
Happy Father’s Day 6/16/2008
He taught me the meaning of honour, of standing by my word, and what I believed in. He taught me that losing gracefully is the mark of a gentleman, and sometimes is better than winning. He taught me how to speak the English language properly, and to respect all languages, and the written word. He sometimes lived his life too safely, refusing to take risks, but taught me that decisions have to considered carefully, and to weigh the implications. He taught me that alcohol is something to be savoured, not to be consumed in excess. He taught me to mind my manners, and to be polite to everyone around me, irrespective of their station in life. He taught me how to calculate the averages for poker and blackjack in my head. He taught me that a man is measured by his name, and the reputation attached to it. He gave me his sense of ethics, and that honest work is always rewarded, though not in the way I might want. He taught me how to play tennis, and gave me a lesson in humiliation and being humble when he whupped my ass in straight sets when he was 70, and I was a young officer candidate.
I carried his coffin and scattered his ashes in the sea a month ago today.
Happy Father’s Day Grandpa.
The price of pleasure. 6/4/2008
Is now RM2.70 a liter.
The government just announced that the price of fuel is going up 40% at midnight tonight. Aside from the huge queues from idiots topping up their tanks $20 worth of petrol just to take advantage of the price hike, I wonder how this is going to impact car drivers. If you ride a bike to work, on a regular basis, you’re already ahead of the game. Bikes are way more fuel efficient than cars, tuned superbikes excepted.
However, motorcycles imported into this country are still subject to a 100% import duty, and pay disproportionately more in yearly road tax than a car, based on engine size. Considering the fact that bikes are more fuel efficient, take up less road space and parking space, do a lot less damage to the environment and infrastructure than a car, I think some sort of break is in order, don’t you?
And no, don’t whinge to me about salaries. I haven’t had a pay rise in well over a year.
Pop-up dog… 6/2/2008
… goes for a drive.
Replicant. 5/30/2008
I can understand fan-dom. I have a few fans myself. And I have seen first hand how far fanaticism can go, in support of your favourite sports star, or team, or actor. But this one made me pause and think. Almost everyone in the world knows of Valentino Rossi. Multiple world champion, the man who’s riding skills are now legendary. And also a favourite with his fans. Rossi has a huge fan base, not just amongst the motorcycle enthusiasts.
This of course has lead to lots of riders wanting to emulate their hero. AGV makes a Rossi replica lid which sells for not far short of US$800. Rossi replica leathers from Dainese? Yours for US$3000. Yamaha certainly issues a Rossi edition of their street bikes, especially when he wins a world championship. But something I saw this morning in a forum I frequent takes the cake.
A bike was advertised for sale today, and it was certainly well done. Beautiful paintwork, all the right stickers in the right places. Done up to look like a replica of the ‘07 M1 that Rossi races in the MotoGP. I looked at the pictures and thought, wow, this guy really put a lot of time, effort and money into making this replica. Then I read the blurb accompanying the pictures of the bike, and I had to laugh out loud.
What’s wrong with the picture above? Can you spot it? You’d have to be really well versed with modern sportbike design and models. In case you can’t see it, here’s another picture.
The sharp eyed amongst you might have noticed that certain components and proportions don’t quite fall into place. I am not distracting from the amount of work the owner has put into making this “replica”. I admire the effort he’s put in. Just that there is one fairly serious problem with it. Can’t spot it yet?
Here’s a picture of the rider, wearing the obligatory Rossi replica leathers, and replica helmet.
Beautifully turned out replica of Yamaha’s M1 in Rossi livery. There’s only one problem. That bike started life as a Kawasaki ZXR750-H.
Golden Jubilee. 5/29/2008
It’s been 50 years. Who would have thought. A plane designed at the beginning of the Cold War, had its first flight in 1958, and was soon to see sterling service in Vietnam and the Middle East, is now celebrating its golden jubilee this week. The F-4 Phantom II is still in active service with various countries around the world.
Pop-up dog. 5/27/2008
I was driving home late on Saturday night, on the wrong side of oh-dark-thirty. It was cool outside, so I had the windows down on the truck, cruising along. I came up to the toll plaza, slowed down and paid the toll. As I pulled away from the toll booth, I saw a police road block at the exit of the toll plaza. I slowly moved along, and joined the line of cars queuing up to get past the block. I pulled up and came to a halt when the cop waved his torchlight, flagging me down.
The truck comes with bench seats, and this particular night, the front bench seat was occupied. With my dog. Well, I wouldn’t use the word dog. She’s a big dog, and the best way to describe her would be in the words of my father, who said, when he first saw her, “what is that? a wolf?” Suffice it to say that she has a rather mean and slightly serial killer-ish way of looking at the world. The usual expression she has on her face is, “I could tear out your liver now and eat it, but I’m not hungry so I won’t bother.” If you think I’m kidding, a couple of weeks ago she tried to tear out the throat of my other dog. She almost succeeded too, resulting in the other dog needing lots of stitches and spending a few days in the infirmary, and a humongous vet bill.
So I come to a stop, and wait, looking at the cop coming up to the passenger side door, across from me. He shines his torchlight into the truck, and is about to ask for my license when the wolf, very suddenly, sits up and pops her face right into the beam of the torchlight. The cop sees this big wolf like dog pop into his face like a jack-in-the-box, and utters a scream, dropping his torchlight. My dog looks at him a little quizzically, wondering how much effort it would take to jump through the window and rip his overweight throat out.
Behind the cop were his buddies, and when he screamed, they looked over and start walking over quickly, in case something was wrong. Well, there was something wrong. The cop was overweight for his uniform, for one thing, and we were certainly in imminent danger of being blinded in case the buttons decided to pop off his dress shirt. As they came up to the truck, the dog uttered a low growl, and then a bark. Something in that growl must have tripped a switch, probably the one that says that once, a long time ago, humans were not at the top of the food chain. That growl signified dinner time, and not for the humans.
The cops froze. They took a step back in unison, and one of them waved me on, hurriedly. I nodded my head, and engaged the gears. I drove off, with the dog looking out the window at the 3 cops. I may have been my imagination, but I think she was salivating a little.
Oh, and remember that torchlight the cop dropped on the ground in shock?
As I drove off, I heard the sound of crunching plastic as one of the truck’s tyres rolled over it.
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