I discovered something interesting last weekend. It turns out that thing we do in our cars every day on the way to and from work isn't driving. Rote operation of a motor vehicle, maybe, but not driving. Driving is altogether more elusive and thrilling. The first track session was all adrenaline and anxious attention to keeping four wheels on pavement. Session two entailed entry, apex, exit, and line, line, line. Braking, shifting, and throttle control were mixed in on the next run. Finally, to the song of a six cylinder choir, mind, body, and machine took a dance across the track in blissful embrace. I've fallen in love with my car all over again and likely acquired a new hobby addiction.

If you've never been on a skidpad, git yer butt off the intarweb and into a car control clinic.

Tags: dobo, nottech

It was a sunny California afternoon some indeterminate number of months ago and I was at the gas station filling dobo¹ with go-juice. While engaged with this task, an Asian gentleman gets out of his truck and walks over looking slightly agitated. He asks me if I know how to get to UCLA. Yes, of course I know how to get to UCLA, doesn't everyone? You get on this street here; head thataway; get on the freeway; go a while; get off the freeway; turn on some street; turn on some other street by some big buildings, and you're there. It dawns on me that either I've lived in LA four years and failed to learn a single street name, or anytime someone asks you for directions all street names immediately vanish from your mind.

The man walks back to his truck looking more agitated. I grab a squeegee and start washing my windows. If only I had access to some global information resource, too bad the Internet is only good for porn. But wait, I have a Jesus Phone!

Deus ex machina in hand, I walk over to the gentleman who is now loudly speaking on his cell phone. It occurs to me that he is likely speaking with his kid, a student at UCLA, who apparently doesn't know how to operate the Internet, a paper map, or direct his parents to his own school. I proceed to give him turn by turn directions to UCLA, which he proceeds to shout loudly into the phone. Why, I haven't the slightest, since I assume the person on the other end isn't the one most in need of directions.

Rescue of lost parents successful, I walk back to my car, get in, and drive away.

( I only forgot one thing. )

¹ : If you're wondering why I call my car dobo, you might find this illuminating.

Tags: dobo, nottech