donger need food.

Vote Yes!

For the Racing Network.

posted by VirtualErn @ 10:01 PM 0 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Found On The Road Dead

This past weekend, I found myself needing, once again, to enlist the services of the local car rental facilities. It was MotoGP weekend. But faced with the prospect of cramming 4 grown men into the tiny confines of my little red 2 door with ailing suspension (the Beast was sadly out of commission with a corded rear tire) and with the other passengers equipped with a modded out M3, a 2-passenger pickup truck, and a pristine lowered 4-door turbo car, I had no choice. Luckily for us, Hertz had a special…full-size for two days for a measly $110 with tax+fees. Not bad.

“Full-size” meant one big hunk of sheetmetal: a gleaming Ford Taurus.

Having spent a total of about 300 miles and 10 hours in the car (Saturday qualifying and Sunday race) it’s easy to see why US domestic automakers are ailing, with the bulk of their vehicles being relegated to fleet (i.e. rental & commercial) status. It only takes ten minutes looking at the cars on the road around us to realize that no one is buying domestics anymore. Save for maybe the Corvette and ummmm… well, the Corvette.

Sure, the machine didn’t fail us once. But after spending almost 14 years now in imports, it really is sad to see the current state of hardware being produced by those folks in Detroit. The entire weekend I was fighting the car, which tramlined like crazy on stretches of the 101. And the willy-nillyness was amplified by the car’s propensity to flail wildly in the mild crosswinds. Inexcusable. Sure, it could’ve been attributed to the ridiculously cheap Continental tires with sidewalls of jelly, but this is the company’s bread-and-butter sedan. Couldn’t they source a better quality OEM tire for not much more $$?

And then there was the god-awful antiquated power train. It felt exactly the same as that old tech iron-block 3.8L 90-degree pushrod V-6 that was in my Mom’s old Thunderbird. Which was made in 1989. Anemic throttle response, moderate torque off line, and out of breath at anything above 3000RPM. Head up a road resembling any bit of a hill, and you’re forced to punch a hole in the firewall with your right foot. But all you get is a lot of noise and no power.

The puny excuse of a transmission didn’t help either. Downshifting with a huge lurch about 30 minutes after you pressed the gas pedal, it did nothing to instill confidence. And unbelievable…it’s the same P-R-N-OD-D-1 sequence on the shifter. That same sequence which refuses to let you choose 2^nd gear. So why bother?!? Is it so hard to fit a “2” in there? They might as well replace the letters on the shifter console with: L-A-M-E

For brakes, the big blue oval decided to eschew the norm of four-wheel-discs and go with drums out back…Horrid. Absolutely horrid. With pedal feel that ranged from squishy to mushy, I had zero faith that I could stop this behemoth of a car (oh, it was huge) in time. And worse yet, as you slowed down, while maintaining the same pressure on the pedal, the brakes grabbed even harder! Aaaargh! So I had to back off the brakes as I slowed down. Is it that hard to design linear brakes?

The list goes on and on and on: numb steering; windows that constantly fogged up; seats that hurt your butt and back after only 30 minutes; front doors with bottom corners that had a nasty habit of taking out big fleshy chunks of your shin; no PRNDL position indicator in the instrument panel; an emergency brake release handle situated perfectly inline with the hood release lever; back windows that refused to go below halfway; non-folding side mirrors; lame excuse for a stereo; no separate recirc button on the climate control; a monstrous B-pillar that blocked my view of blind-spot traffic…

It does sadden me to see the company where Quality was once “Job 1” producing pieces of junk like this. The competition is light years away in technology and materials. I sure hope they aren’t charging folks an arm and a leg for this thing. You see, our family used to be a Ford family. I learned to drive in a 1980 notchback Mustang and a 1981 Fairmont wagon. I tried to impress girls I liked by taking ‘em out in my parents’ ’86 Mustang hatchback with the big torquey V-6, with power windows and bucket seats (ooooooh). I went to prom in a Mustang GT convertible, storming the streets of La Jolla with the top down and V-8 muscle under my right foot. I lusted after the hot-rod Taurus SHO equipped with the magnificent 220hp 24-valve 3.0L Yamaha masterpiece. I convinced my friend to buy a Probe GT Turbo.

But after making the switch to Nissan in 1993, I never looked back. Great handling, amazingly stout and peppy powertrains, and reliability that blew all those domestics out of the water (nothing major after 230K miles in the 240, 160K miles in the G20, 200K miles in the Altima, 150K miles in the Maxima). I was convinced…the imports got it right. And caught the domestics asleep at the wheel. One thing that impresses me to this day is changing the oil in my Mom’s Maxima. The oil filter and drain plug are situated close together at the front passenger corner of the car. So you only need one pan. And, you didn’t need to jack up the car. You basically got on your knees, reached under there, and presto, the oil filter and drain plug were RIGHT THERE. The best part? The filter was screwed in vertically…so no mess. And the Thunderbird? Well…the oil filter was situated right above the front suspension crossmember. This crossmember has a little lip molded into it, like a channel that runs from from left-to-right underneath the motor. So, when you pulled the filter, all the oil dripped into this channel where it pooled. And you had to take a towel and push all the oil out of this channel through the sides. You did have multiple pans ready, right? It was a million tiny little details like this that convinced me to never go back to domestics.

…Regardless, some of my fondest memories growing up as a kid were in the family Fords. One that does come to mind was from the passenger seat of that big brown Ford Fairmont Station Wagon. Being the oldest automatically entrusted me with the huge responsibility of navigator for those big week-long driving adventures throughout the west. At the impressionable age of 10, I regarded this responsibility as superior to all passengers except for the driver, of course. A veritable Number One to our Captain Jean-Luc Picard, if you will (much to the dismay of my younger siblings). In addition to the typical duties of calculating alternate routes, determining times to next destination, and looking out for cops, I managed the tape deck, provided refreshments for the Captain and ensured that he remained awake at the wheel. These lengthy road trips revealed a side of my father that I never knew before then. Usually strict and overbearing, often doling out stiff punishment for our shenanigans through a belt and/or a stick, we were downright terrified of the wrath that our father can bring. But with the rest of the car asleep, I had the privilege of spending a few hours with my Dad, where he taught me the fine art of passing and other driving techniques that stick with me to this day. He spoke of fond memories of adventures in Spain and picking up hitchhikers on Highway 1. It was a side of my Dad that I never knew about, and will never forget. And it was the first time that I heard about what “Ford” meant: Fix Or Repair Daily. Found On the Road Dead.

There’s a sentimental part of me that hopes Ford will come out of the ashes and start making cars that are worth buying again. But then there’s that part of me that realizes sentiment and hope is one thing, but reality is something quite different.

posted by VirtualErn @ 3:57 AM 2 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Disneyland For Gearheads

For a brief two days out of the year, I make the annual trek south and subject my aging body to an assault of the senses to witness the lightweight jockeys work their god-like feats of magic atop unbridled two-wheeled mayhem machines. As they circled the newly paved 2.238 miles of asphalt at speeds that put us lowly mortals to shame, I occasionally dared to dream the wannabe fantasy that some day I might manage to cut my (not quite the same thing) S2000's two minute lap time down to something respectable...but then Casey Stoner goes ahead and does the amazing: blow away the track record with a 1 minute 22 second performance. That quickly puts to rest those foolish aspirations of mine.

And the fantasy continues...peppered throughout the weekend are up close-and-personal photo opportunities with gorgeous eye candy,

both two-wheeled...


...and high-heeled


Sure, the crowds are annoying, the sun is scorching, your feet hurt, the food is unbelievably expensive (nine dollars for a scoop of rice, a piece of teriyaki chicken and a bbq beef stick??) and you got a farmer tan lookin' like you done plowed the back forty, but where else can you ditch the S.O. (temporarily!!!) and be a 10-year-old-kid all over again?

posted by VirtualErn @ 6:03 PM 1 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

The Funk Of 40,000 Years

Someone, please tell me that this is real.

So goes prison life in Cebu.

posted by VirtualErn @ 12:37 PM 0 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

God Bless The USA

What other country will let you publicly (and proudly) proclaim your ignorance?



Larger photo here.

posted by VirtualErn @ 7:00 PM 1 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Good Sushi in Santa Clara

If you ever happen to find yourself in Santa Clara, go to Hoshi's. Very, very good sushi. Perfect balance of rice and fish, with the rice at the right temperature, texture and flavor. Good selection and fresh fish. Highly recommended.

posted by VirtualErn @ 1:46 PM 0 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

The Land Of The Automobile

Los Angeles: picture millions of tiny little rodents scurrying around hundreds of miles of concrete paths in the middle of a parched palm-tree-lined desert.

I guess you could say I've had a love-hate relationship with the city. Growing up in her small-town neighbor to the south, I always looked to L.A. as this immensely huge uncharted land of opportunity. She beckoned with temptations of vast single screen movie theaters with unbelievably good sound systems (not just loud, but high fidelity!), the original Cheesecake Factory, Sunset Blvd, Santa Monica Pier, and absolutely geeky things like the Nakatomi Plaza & Bradbury Building... It was little anyone can do to contain my frustration stuck in the confines of middle-class suburban life south of The 8.

The fascination started way back in high school. Senior ditch day had me hopping in the big brown pimpmobile for a two hour trek to see what that whole town is all about. It continued on, with more-often-than-not-day-trips for a slice of cheesecake, watching a big movie, Tommyburgers... But sometime late in college it eventually wore off. I think I could pinpoint it to a single event: a Cisco training trip I took back in 1997, which had me staying downtown near Union Square. I absolutely fell in love with San Francisco.

Eventually the novelty of L.A. wore off...all I see now is a barren wasteland infested by hundreds of billions of cars. It's unbelievable how bad it's gotten. Over the course of 10 years, the city has managed to choke its infrastructure with the automobile. Pick a day. Any day. Any time. There's traffic everywhere. And the cars aren't just on the freeways, they're even on the tiny side streets. Everywhere you look, there's *somebody* driving a car. It really is quite a weird feeling. And the pollution collects in one place: Riverside. I remember one business trip had me out in Loma Linda...I looked up and all I saw was this putrid black smoke in the air all around me. It was depressing.

And it's so freakin hot. The ozone depleted atmosphere conspire with millions of tons of concrete & asphalt to form a ground-level oven that melts the shoes beneath my feet and cause beads of sweat to pour from my face. And where are the trees? Those 50 foot palm trees sprinkled throughout the city are at best a humurous attempt at vegetation.

But then there are the hot dogs.


And those incredibly hot, gorgeous, and oh-so-fit pretty people. They're everywhere!. Materialistic, shallow and mean as they may be -- who cares, as long as they look good!! (Sorry, no pictures...but trust me, they ARE everywhere)

And then there's the absolute best Korean BBQ I have ever had.


And then you find yourself with the windows down, driving down a street for what seems like an hour now and not hitting a traffic light. That's right...if you time it right, you can hit every single green on a 7-mile stretch of road. After the sun sets, the city comes alive and the heat no longer rains down UV terror. With the windows down (or if you're really lucky, the top down), you can cruise for hours listening to music, watching people, chit-chatting with your car mates, letting the wind going through your hair, wearing shorts & a T-shirt, and never have to turn on the heater.

Maybe Los Angeles isn't so bad after all.

posted by VirtualErn @ 11:53 AM 0 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

First In Line

I know I told myself no more lists this year, but I couldn't help it. Here is my list of small $600 electronic devices that I would wait 5 days in July heat for:

1. A Canon SD400 with full, intuitive and simple flickr support. It will have GPS (so photos can be geotagged), EDGE, UMTS (both 2100 & 1900 bands!), HSDPA, wCDMA and seamless WiFi support. And of course, quad band support. It will have a no-brainer interface that will allow me to tag photos and upload to sets. Uploads of each 10MP photo will take no more than 45 seconds, and it will gracefully recover from failed uploads. It will make and receive phone calls. And it will have a Z3 form factor (big and chunky) for that nice solid feel. And it will be available in gunmetal. This is just the ticket to nurture my addiction to flooding my flickr account with snapshots. (Less photos, I said? Bah! I'll hit 20K photos in no time soon with this puppy!!)
   
2. A little tiny device for the car that can tell me when traffic incidents occur *the moment* someone reports it into 911. This device has to be conscious of all incidents within a 100 mile radius of my present location, and must also give me an instant overhead view of the incident. [Oh wait...I should utilize the techniques I learned from my requirements management class...] This device shall present no more than five alternate routes around the highlighted traffic incident. A destination ETA shall be recalculated and displayed on all routes to the user in no more than 60 seconds... It took Shirley and I EIGHT HOURS to get back from L.A. yesterday. Being stuck in a car in 95 degree heat for an hour really blows. And this happened twice in one day.
   
3. An mp3 player that can play any song I ask for within 5 seconds. And I mean ANY song. This device will respond politely to my voice using any one of 30 pre-selected voices from real-life actresses. The sound quality of the mp3 player will exceed that of any CD player (and blow away that pitiful excuse of an audio section found in the iPod). This mp3 player will be small and flat enough to carry in my front pocket and will have tactile buttons. The battery life on this device will be 48 hours of listening time, and it will support bluetooth headphones.
4. A real-time language translator. This device will be worn around my neck, and will instantly capture everything I say and broadcast in the language that is currently being spoken. It will support every language known to man. It will also support Binar, Romulan and Klingon at no additional charge. It will also scan and translate written material without any errors.
   
5. A device that does all of the above in one compact and attractive unit.
   

posted by VirtualErn @ 12:06 PM 3 comments

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]