Beverly Hillbillies, Part Deux

[m3a1]

Two days ago, scientists predicted Earth would be on the receiving end of a huge electromagnetic storm (we can blame the Sun for that...not the scientists) and, because I have observed those kinds of warnings are usually 24 hours off, I predicted that we would receive a pasting today (rather than yesterday) and it seemed the best policy to line up a few to-dos and get 'em done in the morning and then basically take the rest of the day off, hydrate and rest up for the next big thing...

Whatever that might be.

I trotted over to casa de Billiam and tinkered around with a dandy little electric motor that was equipped with an equally dandy reduction gearbox. The motor didn't want to work and, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why it didn't want to work. All the tinkering yielded no good result and so, I bailed out of that project and went straight into another project because we started the day hot and it was getting hotter by the minute.

I would finally be wrapping up my magnetic-mounted remote tail light kit; the very same one that had come free and had been dragged down the interstate at 70 MPH (for who-knows-how-lon) until a passing motorist caught our attention and indicated through a complex series of hand signals that I was "letting it all hang out". There was a time when 'letting it all hang out' was a cool thing to do...

just not in that particular fashion.

To rectify the situation, I had procured two new 4in. sealed, round Stop/Tail/Turn lights and two new pigtails. Some time ago I had great success getting one hooked up correctly whereas the other was being really rather stubborn chiefly because there is a distinct lack of wire-color coordination in this particular kit. Because I couldn't seem to get it right, I put it aside and ignored it, which is to say I ignored it until I found I would soon need it. So this morning, we backed Bill's truck into his garage (Yes! He has an actual garage!) in order that I might have some shade.

I plugged the light kit in and set everything up on the tailgate and plopped my backside onto a stool. With Bill at the helm of his truck and with me back in the back, calling for various lights to be actuated, I actually had the trouble sorted out very quickly. The only problem was, Bill has this weird habit which results in him insisting that the truck must have its engine running in order for the lights to work. But I was there to sort out my lights and not there to get Bill squared away.

So, I held my breath and worked quickly. No time to argue. His old Dodge has some questionable rings and with the super-duper expensive additive he buys for bad rings, his truck exhaust stinks. It stinks really bad. How does this mysterious additive work? I reckon it just makes it easier to more efficiently burn off the oil in the combustion chamber....so you don't have to look at all that nasty oil smoke. It doesn't improve the rings. It just hides the evidence of tired rings. The moment he stops using it, his truck goes right back to smoking. Anyhoo, I came away from the whole process with a 100% working remote light kit...

and smelling like old Dodge farts.

I grabbed a nice steel bed frame from the curb on the way out of Bill's neighborhood; something that some moron thought would be better to have in a land fill than, say, using the steel to build something useful with. And people wonder why we have environmental problems. I filled the rest of the day doing indoorsy stuff (like seasoning the Doctor's new cookware) doing laundry and generally staying the heck out of the sun. You can always tell the days when the radiation is high as there is a huge disparity between the temperatures in the shade and those in the sun. IMHO, it's just best to opt out when it gets like that.

Oh sure, I did hop in the car and do some necessary shopping but that still counts as indoors stuff.

By the way, did you know Home Depot carries only two flavors of 3-in-1 Oil? I was gobsmacked. They had 3-in-1 Silicone and they had 3-in-1 Penetrant. No oil. No provision for 3-in-1 OIL on the shelf. None. No empty gap. No sticker indicating that the 3-in-1 Oil could normally be found there. Nnnnope. All kinds of other magical elixirs but not 3-in-1 Oil. I am NOT making this up. Where did I get my 3-in-1 Oil, you ask?

At the grocery store.

Really.

In other News of the Weird, Lowes is starting to put out Halloween objets d'art (just in case you wanted to get a jump on things).

I needed another bottle of 3-in-1 Oil because my large bottle got clobbered on the work bench when the throat shear which is a notoriously odd-shaped and top-heavy chunk of metal just fell over at precisely where it would commit the most mayhem. It decided to tip over for no discernible reason and crush the bottle. Wham bam, thank-you-ma'am. Naturally, there was oil everywhere so I sopped it up with a junk rag and just kind of mopped it only the many rusty things out there that will require my attention sooner than later. I know. I know...it was a final desperate act...

but at least I got to use the oil.

So, what has any of this to do with anything? Well, sun or no sun, ya gotta keep plugging along and doing what you can do to get ahead, even if only just a little bit. And, you've got to keep laughing at the incongruities of life, like a store specializing in home related products not actually having basic, bread and butter, home related products on their shelves and another store offering Halloween stuff while everyone else is selling school supplies.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

My efforts to paw through the mountain of pics I amassed last year progresses at a snail's pace.

So much stuff. So few 5 gallon buckets.

Still, some very interesting things have been uncovered and some new problems have cropped up because of it. Mostly, they're the good kind of problems, rather than the bad kind. GOOD, because progress IS being made to restore at least some version of order and reacquire enough elbow room to be able to do things. There is, somewhere in between GOOD and BAD, circumstances such as uncovering a tool that is so strange that I really cannot quantify it as belonging in one place or another around here because I don't know what it's for...but still, it's OH-so-interesting and cannot be summarily thrown away. I don't know if it's for wood working, or for working with steel, or for celestial navigation.

Clutter becomes Stuff and then, theoretically, is put up with a similar sort of Stuff in order that it might be efficiently located and used at some later date. Stuff that doesn't have a suitable home is actually still Clutter and we can't have THAT hanging over our heads. Them's the rules, fellas. I don't make 'em but I have to abide by them. But some of this weird Clutter/Stuff defies description. I have one particularly peculiar thing in mind but until I can get a picture of it in a format this forum will accept, you'll just have to trust me on this. It's purpose, downright mysterious. I even did a Google Image search on it and got absolutely nuthin' for my trouble. Zip, zilch, nada.

UNIDENTIFIABLE. For Pete's sake, where does this thing go?!

Another example of one of the GOOD-BAD problems I've been facing was exemplified by an ancient (and broken) Hi-Lift jack. Whether you call it a rock jack or, call it a walking jack or, call it, Bob (if you really feel you must) one thing remains the same. These jacks are incredibly useful pieces of kit....

and EXPENSIVE....

and undeniably worth repairing...

that is, if you don't already have two!

Yes, I already have two of these but, when I discussed this conundrum with The Billmeister, he reminded me of one of my favorite sayings - "Two is one and one is none," and then he added his own bit - "but three is often just enough". Too true. So, I took the time and identified the broken piece. Because I didn't want yet another full blown 'project' to slow progress down around here and I really didn't want to add this item to the ever-growing list of things I needed to do. I had been thinking really hard about just tossing it back on an ever-growing pile of scrap to be recycled.

Luckily, it was time for a water break. I sat in front of a fan, drank ice water, and got on the internet. $23 and change for a replacement part. $23 to make a third jack complete; a rock jack which would stand in the corner with my two other rock jacks and collect dust. Three is a crowd. But then it occurred to me that recycling it back to usefulness was far better from an environmental standpoint than someone recycling it by having to melt it down and then make it into ANOTHER rock jack. Futility is expensive, ain't it? It would be far more 'green' to repair it and, while I'm not a die-hard 'Go Green' sort of fellow, after giving this sort of situation some deeper reflection I realized what I decide to do will affect the environment. So making repairs certainly did have some merit.

Plus, if I had stumbled upon this rock jack at a yard sale and intact for $23 and change, I would have bought it whether I needed a third jack or not, simply because it would have been foolish not to. Tools are always a good investment because they are our friends and they get shirt done. But, when yer tired and hot and dirty and when yer facing small mountains of what-have-you, yer brain doesn't work so good. So, I ordered the part. Maybe the message is - "Haste makes waste."

Yeah, that's it.

Closet Environmentalist Achievement Badge - AWARDED!

As for the BAD part....well, it's still stupid hot outside. How hot is it? Well, the ground has become so hot, the city water comes out of the faucet tepid...which is a bummer because it'll melt the any ice you've put in the cup beforehand which means having to keep your next glass of water in a container in the fridge or have the ice melted by tepid water...which waters down my water and does very little to keep it cold. Still, there IS balance in the universe...that whole yin-yang thing of opposite but interconnected forces does have its benefits...so I take tepid afternoon showers and siesta which is actually quite lovely (author's edit - Siestas are quite lovely if they are not uninterrupted by some dude calling me on the phone. You know who you are!) and then go outside and do one or two little things before the sun goes down.

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

I have three of those jacks, the original Hi Lift brand, also two are the 60" models with the other which has been mounted on my CJ-7 for 35 years being a 48" model. They are indestructible as long as you keep the pins lubricated. And as long as you fully understand how to use them. I have used them as jacks, come-alongs, clamps, pry tools. They can be used in a multitude of ways to extricate stuck vehicles. None of those ways would be considered safe by OSHA rules but they work.

[m3a1]

I reckon any tool that can leave you bleeding out on a back trail an hour and a half from substantial medical care is worth having.

[m3a1]

In an unusual departure from my normal flavor of drivel, I am offering up a few quick observations on the movie Oppenheimer which I saw last night (so you don't have to). To get right down to it, I came away from the movie unfulfilled.

You can stop here if you want and save yourself a bunch of time. I'll explain why below, but I recommend you just bail out now and do something else.

First, I was already fairly well aware of the life and times of Oppenheimer before I went to go see the movie so, to the matter of content, the movie is actually pretty good. Maybe too good. By way of example, we are forced to observe Oppenheimer's occasional d'alliances (I used the French spelling here, since d'alliances are one of the things the French are famous for). I am not being prudish. These insights, like a lot of other insights they shoehorned into the film, just did very little to move the story along and the movie is three (count 'em) THREE hours long! It was meant to illustrate that Oppenheimer was very naive in his youth and his youthful indiscretions sort of followed him around. One in particular followed him around for years. Because of this, Oppenheimer's marriage was sometimes rocky and sometimes the troubles were of his own making.

Meh.

So we actually begin the movie with a young, troubled-yet-brilliant version of Oppenheimer as he wanders the universe seeking out knowledge and a mentor who never really materializes because, well we are supposed to believe that Oppenheimer sort of invented himself by fathering some quantum physics... stuff that we lesser mortals cannot understand. We watch while he lays awake in bed at night, tortured by the psychedelic versions of exploding stars and old Prell commercials dancing in his head. Yup. Tortured by his own undiscovered discoveries.

That's gotta be tough.

Yet this doesn't do much to move the story along. In fact, it's downright annoying. Instead we are treated to huge chalkboards covered in mystic runes and scraps of paper (which are also covered in mystic runes) shared between physicists like forbidden notes secretly passed around in class between the cheerleaders and the jocks. Here, the up-and-coming physicists and other scientists are all maneuvering for pole position in the world of academia along with their comically ham-fisted attempts to involve themselves in politics...and girls. Probably BECAUSE of girls.

Apparently, these brainiacs have needs just like the rest of us.

Very suddenly Oppenheimer is all growed up, sporting that awful hat, smoking his pipe, looking terribly gaunt, having d'alliances, hanging out with Einstein and all the other big-name physicists, being recruited into a brain trust and eventually finding himself steered into the top slot on THE PROJECT despite his questionable political leanings....

cause he's just THAT good and physics.

The movie took the long way around the barn to make that point and then glossed over some of the finer, more interesting details of how things were handled at Los Alamos, including (but not limited to) the concern over getting The Project to the church on time without letting the cat out of the bag.

Three Examples Of Literary Figurative Language Used In A Single Sentence Achievement Badge - AWARDED

Unfortunately, a lot of interesting stuff was left out because, in the final analysis, the movie is more about Oppenheimer, the man and less about what he accomplished. Still, putting some of those details into the movie would have done much to put into context a lot of stresses that Oppenheimer was under and that would have gone far to help us gain a greater understanding of who he was as a man than all the other stuff they jammed into the movie.

So, in the absence of that, a movie-goer who didn't know much of The Project's backstory will be left in the dark (literally and figuratively). Instead, we watch as Oppenheimer is trying to orchestrate a lot of nerdy, goofy looking scientists mostly, in vain (something that was undoubtedly like herding gerbils) and his having to balance his baby-sitting physicists efforts against dealing with the all-too-often heavy handed and strict requirements of the Government types.

Eventually, The Gadget gets built and General Groves rushes to call Potsdam...

Well, we all know what comes next... a test BOOM, followed by two Bigger BOOMS and predictably, Oppenheimer suddenly realizes he has a conscience (probably because of the heretofore unknowns about radioactivity from the bomb; something that surprised and horrified EVERYONE and had not yet been throughly quantified) and so, because he's a decent fellow, he tries to stuff the genie back into the bottle. This offends just about every person in government who is happy with their brand new toys and doesn't want to have them taken away. So comes the effort to squash Oppenheimer, publicly, politically or so it would seem. Eventually we find that it's actually coming from a guy whose feelings got hurt.

REALLY?!! What a let-down.

And the whole movie finally grinds to a blessed halt. Roll credits. Bring the lights up and RUN to the loo....cause three hours is a long time to hold it.

The movie was tedious and a lot like window shopping in a mall your wife loves but one you truly hate....for three hours....just after Easter. Nothing interesting to see there. Just being dragged by an endless line of empty windows and naked mannequins. Windows with no real substance. That's OPPENHEIMER the movie in a nutshell.

So, I came away unfulfilled and no wiser for having invested the time to see it. The movie is undeniably of good quality... except for the makeup which was on par with the poor makeup in Gettysburg. Remember how bad THAT makeup was? (You'll get to see it all over again in Oppenheimer) but I have a distinct feeling the movie definitely needs to be recut because as it is at the moment, it's like being staked to the ground over a bamboo shoot. A long, dreary and painful experience.

Director Nolan will feel our pain if he has any conscience at all.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Last week I ordered a couple of low end downspout diverters which, theoretically, will allow me to harvest at least some of the rainwater from my gutters. I know. It does seem an odd thing to do in the middle of a drought but ya gotta start SOMEWHERE. I only have a couple of 55 gallon plastic drums for the purpose but considering that every day I water the outdoor cats and Doc's plants with precisely 4 gallons, I thought maybe, just maybe some minor experimentation couldn't hurt. Don't ask me to show you the math on it. The effort is really nothing more than getting water from a downspout to a barrel.

Not exactly high science and as long as gravity continues to behave like it's supposed to, there is a good chance I might get it right.

In order to accomplish this, I bought a 2-fer pack of downspout diverters from Amazon which showed clearly that the product was two complete kits when in reality, what was sent was just two diverters without the necessary hoses to get the water from the diverter to the barrel. Cheapskates! They came yesterday. I opened them today just to see what I had bought.

They are a very clever design with an actual (and adjustable) diverter that allows some water to bypass but also catches a lot of water in a circumferential interior gutter which then flows into the diverter spout and out through a hose to whatever sort of reservoir has been set up. In theory, the diverter should never actually get plugged up because it doesn't close completely and the diverter spout should (also in theory) never get plugged up, either.

Happily, my gutters have some nice little covers on them that work to keep a good portion of the detritus out. What does get through doesn't worry me much as this is meant to be used as non-potable water anyway; water meant to water the grass that I no longer have and the potted plants I Do have....because of Doc...who buys plants and then abandons them to my care so that they can suffer a long and protracted death.

I am the Grand Inquisitor of Plantdom.

Of course it would be entirely fair to consider the whole thing a total waste of time and money.

Sir Billiam and I went out to have lunch and when we left the place, it began cloud up and then it began to rain lovely, big, fat raindrops....and my water catching rig wasn't ready. Not in the least. And this was a heavy rain, with a good strong wind and the only precipitation we had had for over a month. But being outside, cutting into downspouts while it is raining is certainly no place for an intellectual type like me.

Disgusted, Bill and I sat on the porch after the rain had passed. We sat in 76 degree weathers with a light wind and we had coffee and just enjoyed not being in 103 heat with no air moving....because all my outdoor operations fell completely flat on their face with the rain. There just wasn't much else to do but sit there and contemplate the joys of having cooler water coming from my kitchen faucet for at least a little while.

Anxious to make those do-nothing lemons into lemonade, I decided my time would be better spent going to Home Despot to get some suitable tubing so that I would be at least one step closer to getting everything set up. And just because Mother Nature wanted to make her point that she was in charge, it began to rain again....really, REALLY hard. We got soaked getting to the suburban. We got soaked getting to the store.

There, I found a bag of tubing and, with a gun to my head, bought it...because unlike an old-fashioned AMERICAN hardware store, tubing is no longer sold by the foot, or yard but by the DING-danged bag. The Canadians made this tubing and apparently they want you and I to have a lot of it, rather than just what we need. So, tubing now comes in bags, huh! Go figure. So, I bought the cheapest tubing I could find, made by stupid Canadians!

By the time I got home, the rain had stopped and hasn't started back up....but even with tubing coming in bags and rain coming in spurts, I STILL win cause it's still only 76 degrees and I can sit on my porch, relax and drink coffee....just like the old days.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

To the question of how much rain will a roof yield, I have a definitive answer...sort of.

After the rains yesterday, in which we experienced real rain and not some namby-pamby sprinkle-type precipitation, I caught some run-off quite by accident and found it later in the evening. As it turned out, I had a 5 gallon bucket accidentally filled by a stretch of roof/carport tin. That stretch of roofing was approximately 22' in length from peak to eave and the bucket was sitting under that eave, which is (presently) gutter-less.

In fact, the bucket was there wholly by accident and without any particular sense to placement to optimize how it might catch the runoff cause that wasn't the plan. There WAS no plan. Naturally, that bucket contained a a few choice pieces of metal stuff that I would have preferred to NOT be under water and when I put it there, the LAST thing I was thinking was that it might just rain.

Which, of course, it did.

Well, friends, I found that bucket filled to the top with rainwater....to the point where it had very likely overflowed. My precious metal 'stuff' occupied approximately 1 gallon's worth of space so that is four gallons of water, rather than 5....maybe more if you allowed for possible overflow. That's a roof about...uh...6 to the 7th power, divide by Pi and carry the 1....AH! 24' long. Give or take...'cause my math, like my carport roof, is rusty. If we use 4 gallons (a known quantity) and consider that ALL the rainwater might have been collected, I might have potentially harvested just shy of 100 gallons of water.

Looks like I'm going to be shopping for a few new gutters.

So, there is some potential for this rainwater harvesting thing to actually work out well for me...if it actually ever rains again. I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to invest in an overpack container or two. And what would I do with harvested rainwater? Well, essentially, if allows me to put collected water right where it is needed. I might water the Doc's plants (and prolong their eventual death) and I might be able to direct water to a tree that is suffering (they all are) and rather than be THAT GUY, I won't water the lawn because....well, Karens are everywhere, usually at the most inopportune time and I don't have the time or the energy to hide a body.

Texas supports the idea of homeowners capturing rainwater for private use and, to paraphrase an article I read...

It is ridiculous to go to all the trouble to use water from a sanitary public system; water that has been captured, treated, filtered and pumped great distances at great expense..... and simply pour it out on the ground.

Kinda makes sense when you think about it.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

On the OTHER hand, there's a lot of stuff that doesn't make any sense at all. I found undeniable proof of it today when the Doc sent me to the grocery store to fill in a few blank spaces in our refrigerator.

I don't mind going to the grocery store. I usually complete my visit by cruising by the Hot Wheels section just to see if they have anything new that interests me and needs to be added to my collection which, I fully admit, is mine....but will eventually be passed on to the grandsons.

Wrapping up today's shopping, I found myself entering some very uncharted territory. If you know anything about Hot Wheels, you know that some of them are based upon real cars, and sometimes they serve as the inspiration for real cars. Today, I came upon yet another Hot Wheels version of the ol' Twin Mill (and there are SO many versions) but this one was different in a very strange way.

It was a Braille Twin Mill, sporting some actual Braille on each individual engine (Braille that HotWheels claims spells out TWIN and MILL) and even more Braille on the bottom. I would say now I've seen it all but that particular comment would seem oddly out of place, all things considered. This car was only meant to actually be seen when being offered for sale and then when the recipient loses it and a sighted person is asked to find it. Hot Wheels that get away from their owners can travel VAST distances and wind up being found months...sometimes YEARS later.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not making fun of anyone having the misfortune of being blind. It's no laughing matter but, what sighted people do to try to accommodate them sometimes IS. It also seems a bit cruel to punctuate the design of this car (a toy meant especially for the blind kids to be able to play with and identify as their very own and thus, be able to participate with other kids) but HotWheels finished this car with a distinctly monochromatic (and terribly dull-looking) paint job. No chrome. No racing stripes. No Red Line wheels. Just completely white. Yech! That really seems like cheating because kids like to have other kids compliment them on their car....and don't we all know it.

In other news, one of you has asked why cantaloupes are an approved unit of measurement. Well, back in the day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was a steely eyed, Texas Master Peace Officer, one of my many duties was doing License & Weight stuff, just like the State boys. I patrolled in a F450 pickup truck equipped with all sorts of kit for dealing with big trucks and with a full set of scales for weighing them. In the vernacular, I was a 'Scale Man; a title based largely upon the manner in which portable scales are physically distributed around various axle groups on a truck.

Now comes the oft told humorous anecdote about how Scale Men in the days of old might stop produce trucks on hot summer days, weigh them and pronounce them overweight...but maybe just by one or two melons. Could be cantaloupes...could be watermelons...could be whatever melon kinda melon you can think of that a Scale Man and his mates might find refreshing on a hot summer day. The story usually ends with the driver unloading several melons onto the roadside and driving away scott free and this story almost certainly originates with the truckers who MIGHT HAVE just decided to have a little melon for themselves! I assure you, this probably did actually happened in days of old and there is certainly a version of this same tale in every state in the Union.

So there you have it. Melons are indeed an approved unit of measurement.

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

My version was not a few melons, it was several crates of oranges or apples depending on which direction I was traveling. And I KNEW I was not overweight since I had already been over more than one set of scales, especially head south from Philadelphia to Miami and this was in Georgia! "You are too heavy on the drives" so I move a few crates back, "You are now too heavy on the trailer" so I ask how heavy and I am usually told about three crates, which I conveniently just moved from the front by the cooler to the back by the doors. Out they got and off I go. Same general area every time.
So yea, way back in dinosaur time in the late 70's it was happening in Georgia for sure.

[m3a1]

I take it you like apples and oranges too, Rick?

HMMMMMMM?!

[rickf]

After hauling a many hundreds of thousand lbs. of each? Not really. Apples from Philadelphia to Miami and halfway back up the state to pick up oranges coming to Philadelphia. Straight through trips both ways, 21 hours down and 17 hours back and two log books with a two day layover between down and up. Did this every 10 day all summer for two years. You could never get away with that now with E-logs.

[m3a1]

Ah yes. Log books. My favorite. Had one grizzled, old driver whose log book showed that he made a coast to coast drive (N to S) in a little more than 8 hours. When I pointed it out and asked how he managed it, he leaned over with a wry grin and whispered...

"It's all in how you fold the map, son."

That's a metaphor for how to (creatively) get ahead if I ever heard one.

So I grinned and said...

"You're out of service, chum. Sign here."

Lucky for him, I maintained a firm policy of never ticketing philosophers.

But, I think it's best to stop Tales of the Highway Patrol right here because I'd wear the letters off my keyboard trying to share everything. Y'all have a nice day and don't forget to take regular breaks if you're working out in the heat.

And for those of you who want to adopt the Cantaloupe Unit of Measurement, the average cantaloupe weighs 3lbs.

Cheers,
TJ

[199th mp]

Ah yes. Log books. My favorite. Had one grizzled, old driver whose log book showed that he made a coast to coast drive (N to S) in a little more than 8 hours. When I pointed it out and asked how he managed it, he leaned over with a wry grin and whispered...

"It's all in how you fold the map, son."

That's a metaphor for how to (creatively) get ahead if I ever heard one.

So I grinned and said...

"You're out of service, chum. Sign here."

Lucky for him, I maintained a firm policy of never ticketing philosophers.

But, I think it's best to stop Tales of the Highway Patrol right here because I'd wear the letters off my keyboard trying to share everything. Y'all have a nice day and don't forget to take regular breaks if you're working out in the heat.

And for those of you who want to adopt the Cantaloupe Unit of Measurement, the average cantaloupe weighs 3lbs.

Cheers,
TJ

the only way my log book would show a coast to coast trip for my M151, would be if i stuck it on a C141 and flew it there.

[m3a1]

And the STUPID hits just keep on comin'!

SOME days, making a minor effort tor enjoy my morning coffee and see what's on other people's minds can be somewhat....ahhh....trying.

Some Know-It-All posted a cute little article titled Boomer Skills Millennials Just Won't Use. Out of the tiresome (and LONG) list of necessary life skills and habits the author claimed had become entirely obsolete, there was stuff like using paper napkins, buying a home, being able to drive stick, purchasing life insurance and cooking a big turkey in observance of Thanksgiving. But, one basic skill the author claimed was so bold and so WRONG that it stood out in particular, and I quote -

"MAP READING, replaced by Satellite Navigation, Smartphone Navigation (because of) Advanced Technology"

Obsolete? Well, that's just about the dumbest claim I ever heard of. Clearly, this author had never been in a particular corner of America where Advanced Technology barely exists and where access to satellite service and smartphone service are rated somewhere between 'SKETCHY' and 'NONEXISTENT'.

I know. I know. Some technophile will argue that satellite service is kind of the pinnacle of providing information to the user, wherever and whenever it is needed. Uh...NO! Absolutely NOT. Use of the word, 'pinnacle' is, as luck would have it, a most unfortunate choice. Because when you are driving on a road located the bottom of a hollar, (I say bottom because they sure as heck don't build roads on the sides of hollars) your device may not be able to 'see' the satellite or cellular tower to communicate with it. Hollars are especially well-known for providing no service for so-called Smart Phones. Can you guess which state I am talking about? Yeah...

Tennessee. The most ridiculously bass ackward state in the Union. But, in truth, I don't want to pick on Tennessee exclusively.

Now, if you are far removed from whatever formal edumbacation you received and if you have forgotten where Tennessee actually IS relative to your present location (and that's nothing to be ashamed of, believe me); if that is a mystery to you, just use the device you have at hand (yeah, the glowing thing right in front of you) and <SEARCH> for Tennessee. That's right, a T, two N's, two S's and four E's). As long as you're close to the spelling, it'll come up.

And what do you find on your screen? A whole lot of images of maps. Maps which not only show you Tennessee, but where Tennessee IS in relation to the rest of the known world and perhaps ancient sea dragons....a relativity which is one of the less celebrated uses of any map, and which is achieved by, say it with me....

BEING ABLE TO READ A MAP!

Even your fancy pants device wants you to read a map or it wouldn't offer one...and being able to read a map, Dear Reader, is all about being able to determine where YOU are in relation to the rest of the known world (or perhaps even LAND dragons) and then help you determine how best to get where you want to go...whilst avoiding terrible beasties. "Pshaw", you might say. That's simple. I can just stop in anywhere and ask where I am. Nope. Not at 10:45PM in the bottom of a hollar anywhere in Tennessee where they bring in the goats, roll up the sidewalks and turn out the lights at 10:44PM. Yup. Then, you might just as well be at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyss. It'll be just as dark and you'll be just as alone.

[Insert a tasteless OceanGate submersible joke HERE.]

But, let's suppose in the pitch darkness you get creative and run every stop sign in sight in order to attract the attention of the local lawman (of which there are none at that hour) but let's suppose you stumble upon a local lawman who just happens to be a night owl. NOW you can ask where you are and he'll surely tell you. In fact, he'll write it down for you...right on the ticket.

Now, without any map reading skills or a map (or other 'modern' conveniences) you'll have to rely upon this here John Law to give you directions. But tell me, what are you going to do with directions like,

"It'soveryonderaferpieceoncey'allrunoutofpavementstartwatchingfora (deep inhale) picketfencethat'smykin'splacewepainteditlastyearsoitoughtastillbe (another deep inhale) whiteandthenyamakeahardrightattheYintheroadnotthefirstYbuttheonebythedead (super deep inhale) treebythecrickafteraboutaamilemebbeamileandahalfdidyagetallthat?" (wheeze)... Yeah, riiiiiight. Sure did.

NoNONO! Give me a Mk.1 Mod.0 PAPER map any day (and night) of the week.

AH HAH!... you say. I have you! All I have to do is go to my phone's map program and ask for directions and I'll have them ready at hand whether the directions update or not. Sorry, chum. You don't have me. Not in the least. FIRST, you are counting upon your device to give you correct instructions. Did you ask for instructions in a correct and articulate way and did the computer understand your query? After all, EVERY state in the Union has a city called Riverside. 34 states have a Springfield. Conversely, only three states have a city named Happy. (There's a lesson in there somewhere but, I digress.) So unless you've done your homework and you have a map (paper or otherwise) to check those instructions against, well... you might just end up somewhere you don't want to be.

In fact, you're just rolling the dice.

But, let's assume you DID do your due diligence. The instructions are correct and your device has the list of roads, distances and waypoints available for you to follow. What could possibly go wrong? Well, let me tell ya. Unless you've written those instructions down, or saved them to a file, once you begin to go in and out of areas where there is no service, two things are going to happen. First, your smartdevice is going to become a power hungry little demon and you had better have the means of charging it. Power hungry, because your device is going to be pinging like mad, searching for a connection as the connections are lost and reestablished (if only for microseconds). Second, as those connections are lost and reestablished, your phone is going to update what it can...but probably not everything. Remember that list of directions you wanted to rely so heavily upon? The directions you DIDN'T save to file? Uh huh. Gone. Finito. Kaput. Wiped out by your phone's many incomplete updates....and those directions, likely as not, will be gone and/or NOT be replaced with anything even remotely useful.... So good luck with that. It's just easier to have a map...or a book of maps.

Here's a small list of why Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better than high-tech-blinky-light, 'Smart' anything.

Red Dawn/Alien Invasion/Zombie Apocalypse Scenarios - Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better because they are stealthy.

They don't ping like other devices which DO ping, which means they can be tracked, and that means YOU can be tracked. Ask the Russians. And, if you are desperately trying to get out of occupied territory through environs you aren't familiar with, you are GONNA need a map. Something that doesn't light up like the Fourth of July or suddenly begin ringing because you forgot to silence it or play some advertisement at top volume regardless of your device's settings....and any of that sort of nonsense will tell the enemy right where you are at precisely the most inopportune moment.

I Need Something Made of Paper Scenarios - Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better because they ARE made of paper.

Think of all the things we use paper for. Need to start a fire? Having nothing else to eat? Want to fan yourself to stay cool-er? How about having something to protect your fabulous hairdo while dashing from the car to wherever...in the rain. Or maybe you're just out of toilet paper in the middle of nowhere. Uh huh. There is that undeniably MOST important use for paper - civilized behavior.

No Power Scenarios - Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better because they don't need power.

If you're trying to pull a Snake Plissken and escape New York or maybe even L.A. during a blackout you will have neither the time, nor, literally, the energy. Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are your friend because they don't need to be plugged in.

If you want to keep a fancy pants electronic device going, it has to be able to be charged...and when you need it most, well... Murphy steps in. Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better because they'll always be there for ya... forever and ever, AMEN.

Mk.1 Mod.0 paper maps are better because they are dated.

How many of us have opened the glove box (do they still call them that?) of an old and derelict automobile, looking for evidence of when it was last in use? Find a map and I guarantee it'll have a printing date on it. In fact, it'll also provide strong incidental evidence of WHERE the car was in use.

I could go on and on but I'm not gonna because I'm out of coffee...and I'm out of time to fool around telling you what I already know and a whole lot of Millennials don't know.

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

Long before GPS was available to us common people my daughter could give me very clear and concise directions from a paper map from the back seat, At 12 years old. She has bailed her husband out many times when the GPS has led them in the wrong direction. And zombie apocalypse notwithstanding, you have the common sun flare to deal with that will throw GPS directions off by tens to hundreds of miles, Not feet, MILES!!!! My wife is your typical non-map reading type, I have actually seen her holding it upside down when trying to find a point on the road we are traveling. I get her straightened out on that and she still can't find it, and we are on an interstate highway! Then again, she will say turn left and point right.