Why Harley Guys Don't Wave

Another victim of The Dragon at Deal's Gap.

What a Man Can Do

What I saw a man do made me question the professed causes and benefits of the industrial revolution, the wholesale replacement of skilled craftsmen with autonomic machines. Many of you are familiar with todays industrial robots, metalworking machinery, the synthesis of the two, and their inherent precision capabilities. Consider how really specialized those devices are and how limited in what each can produce relative to programming and setup time. Now, consider this:

Y'all know I am a practicianer of the manly arts of Horseshoeing and Blacksmithing and if you are like I was, you're pretty sure the old ways of fashioning metal are fairly crude and imprecise. One of the tasks I was given to perform at horseshoeing school was to fashion a punch that would impress the exact precise shape of a certain type (there are many) of horseshoe nail head into an piece of red hot steel. I chose to make an "E" head punch for a #5 nail. An "E" head nail has roughly the shape listed as 'countersunk'.

I took measurements of angles, dimensions, used a caliper to measure the cross section of the shank, drew it up and roughed it out with hammer, fire, and anvil, then went to the grinder with my drawings and calipers and protractor to finish it up. Two hours later I was not satisfied. Disgusted I went to the head instructor and proprietor of the school and expressed my frustration.
- Let me see that.
I presented my work. He glanced at my handful of tools and drawings, smirked, arose from his desk and without a word went to the workshop to my anvil, started the forge and placed my work into it.

- What's this supposed to be.
JACIII - "E" five.
- OK. Watch.
He opened the forge door and removed the glowing steel. Placing it on the anvil at an angle, he spat into his palm, hefted my hammer and obliterated what I had so painstakingly wrought in three "Thor"-like blows. I stood in shock! Two hours of work gone, and this ham handed SOB squashed it in three blows and 5 seconds. Then...
He rotated the piece, so... WHAM! (full on hammer-stroke brought from above his head).. WHAM!WHAM!. Rotated it again, WHAM!.. WHAM!WHAM! .... eyballed it WHAM! fliped it over, spat. tap-tap-tap..tap, eyballed it rotated itWHAM!.... WHAM!

- See?

And departed the workshop. Total working time elapsed - less than 15 seconds.
I thought 'Bullshit!' and got out my measuring instruments. No bullshit. I tried the punch on a piece of steel and dropped a #5 E-head into it resulting cavity. perfect.

P E R F E C T

Not close, not good enough. perfect. As if you had used the nail itself to make a mold into playdoh and dropped the nail back into it.
"How can he do that?", you ask.
Answer - Because he is a master and student of an old-world craft and, most importantly, because nobody ever told him he couldn't. He has no formal education in modern methods of machining and is largely ignorant of and precision machinery beyond a common drill press.

The Monolithic Dome

I've always had a problem with these and Bill points to a valid concern about expansion causing cracks, but the stress that concerns me is from the temperature gradient from the outside surface to the inside surface of the concrete structure.

This is the primary mode of natural failure of most crystaline ware and it should also apply here. As the outside surface is warmed it wants to expand but the inside surface, being cooler resists that expansion. This places the outer surface in compression and the inner surface into tension. This is not a bad thing as it toughens the outer shell, but when the sun goes down the outside will be under tension which means it's lookin' for a flaw, stress riser, or any other excuse to crack. Given the thickness of the typical wall these forces could become quite large.

First Hand Report from France

Alex from the GPz e-mail list provided an unsolicited european account of the 'troubles' in france.

Here's the link for Alex' blog.

In case anybody of you is wondering about the ongoings in France: It's a
mess.

Two youths died after - presumably - fleeing the Police in Paris, for an
identity control. Now you can argue whether random identity controls are
abusive and wrong, but at least they are not worth to die for not being
subject to them.

This took place in the "village before the village", which is called
"banlieu" in French, for which "banned place" is the literal
translation. The inhabitants of those villages are to a part citizens
who came from the former French colonies or "areas of power". They are
legally French citizens, they speak the language, but for the last
decades (since ever they came over) they have been subject to discreet
and sometimes not-so-discreet negative discrimination. It's hard to find
a job if you live in the wrong area, have the wrong name and the wrong
look. The bit of that which I can feel is that you'd better prepare for
a control if you have a dark complexion and cross the borders. I see
this happening in front of me often enough.

Out of frustration some kids (we speak of youths, 11..15) started to put
cars to fire in Clichy in the night after the death of the two youths
and this was obviously a big show - since then, mostly kids all over the
country think that it's really big fun to set cars on fire and play hide
and seek with the Police. There is no coordination, no leader, no real
motivation except the "fun" of making riots happen - and apparently it's
very funny to even burn the very schools and kindergardens which
actually are in those areas, thus limiting chances for education and
integration even further.

Not to speak of the people whose cars were burning - these are not the
places where they sell a lot of all-risks-included insurances.

But politics are not sleeping and the French interior minister had
nothing better to do than to insult the people, thus pushing the riots
even further. And to announce that the police will act with "full
force". They do not, and it's a wise decision - any further dead people
on any side would start an avalanche.

In the meantime, local leaders and religious leaders, the parents of the
kids who died in the beginning, asked everyone to let things calm down.

This night, the first curfews are in place.

I'm living pretty much on the countryside, around 30 min away from the
next cities - there have been some events, but at least a few days ago
the Gendarmes (MP) were not upset. I'll see one of them tomorrow and
will know more (or not ;)).

cheers
Alex

Thanks for the heads up Alex. You stay safe in the countryside and shoot all trespassers like we do here.


It's a different world over there and Alex's view is going to be a bit different than ours. No flames toward Alex, please, as he has done us the favor of providing a firsthand account.

You gotta love the frogs:

"Fire and blood in France -- at least that's what some foreign media claim is going on," Le Parisien wrote. "Paris is burning, civil war, war zone, race riots -- the headlines, especially on TV, often have no nuance."

Nuance he says! You can't make shit like that up.They are running wild burning the place down and he's upset about the lack of nuance in headlines. Ha!

Tornado Defense

Photo credit to http://www.karinya.com

Bill asks:

What would it take to build a tornado proof house? I'm guessing the roof would be the tough part, but folks make houses that can take a cat 5 hurricane, why not tornado proof? As I type, I'm thinking that with a wind load of a few hundred pounds per square yard, and having to put up with airborne cows and such,

I have heard of aerated-concrete dome houses that are supposed to be able to take massive wind loads, but there is no telling where a load spike might locate on a structure or how massive the spike might be since we really don't seem to know that much about how the darned things function.

"Were you prepared for this?"

This was the question the CNN reporter asked the deputy fire chief in Newburg, Indiana. Like they had three days to prepare? Ditzy bitch. The Emergency Broadcast System failed as did the 911 system prior to the tornado. The government will take care of you. Don't you fret.

I reckon y'all have heard about this tornado in Southern Indiana and North-Western KY Saturday night. We put in a quick call to the inlaws this morning as MrsJAC has an aunt with a farm next to Ellis Park (the horse track that got hit. Bless 'em, their all OK. This country lets a twister run wild, as you can see.

Don on the GPz list just checked in and he's worried that he hasn't heard from his baby sister who lives in one of the areas hit. Prayers are appreciated on his behalf, and all those injured or suffering a loss.

Some of you boys out west may think the country in the linked pics looks familiar; It just goes on forever so flat a teaspoon of water will cover an acre. I miss it still and these rolling hills in central Kentucky make me feel plumb claustrophobic.


The work of one ugly critter.

I Miss My X-Car

For those of you not in the clique, an X-Car is common parlance among owners of the Ford Excursion. Just as fuel prices started to rise I ditched the Excursion in favor of the most fuel efficient 4x4 with 5000lb+ towing capacity I could find. We got a Jeep Liberty smoker (that's a diesel ladies - SB already knew that) and it is big fun, reliable, and cheap to keep. It's no Excursion, though.

I firmly believe there is no luxury greater than space. That being said, our old Excursion is probably the most luxurious vehicle I have ever been in, and it was quite reasonably priced for what it was. 8000 lbs of steel, 425 Hp and 400 ftlbs of torque, four wheel drive like an old power wagon, a foot of ground clearence, four cows worth of leather interior, drove like a big Mercedes, an undercarriage that brings to mind a cement truck.

I have had a sneaking suspicion that the fact that it and other SUV's offered unparalleled luxury and capapbility to the masses is the primary reason for the 'anti-SUV' vehemence in society. Who do you hear gripin' about 'em?! Beady-eyed-cocksuckers with enough money to buy 1000 of 'em. It's just no fun being a bigshot if when stopped in traffic the view from your limo is the polished hub of a 4x4 wheel on Suzy Homemaker's Suburban which happens to have features and amenities your limo doesn't. That won't do. Can't have folks who work for a livin' havin' it too good, can we?

The other SUV haters are commiesratbastards and can't abide having the benefits of the free market displayed before their unbelieving eyes.

Alas, what the beady-eye-cocksuckers and the commie-rat-bastards couldn't do fuel prices have. The X-Car was nice, but I couldn't see spendin' $300.00 a week to have the wife livin' large.

JACmail

Props to Res!

Y'all remember the story of Mario the Matador? Well Res sent this to me the other day. It seems a husband and wife were out riding when they spotted a cougar. The cougar decided it wanted to try some canine cuisine which made the mule wonder what pussy tasted like. Enjoy!

I Found It !

"The paranoid spokesman sees the fate of conspiracy in apocalyptic terms -- he traffics in the birth and death of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human values. He is always manning the barricades of civilization."
- Hofstadter


When I read Vox or other libertarian blogs, I always think, "Chicken Little - The sky is falling! The sky is Falling!", not because Vox an Co. are paranoid or nuts or way out in left field on issues concerning liberty and the results of the lack thereof, but because they are often jumping the gun on them. It's seems true to me that most of what the government does is leading us to destruction and misery, but these fellas seem to think it's "just around the corner" or "any minute", often making predictions of immediacy. Whether it's economic disaster, martial law, or the instant extinction of mankind they see it pending post-haste.

I have always attributed this to a sort of short circuit of intuition. As I understand it intuition is the brain subconsciously assimilating seemingly random and unrelated data into a sudden conclusion or solution, and I think being around others of libertarian mindset increases the relative frequency of occurrence of ideas related to eventual catastrophic failure of social/economic systems. This frequency adds urgency to the equation and the result is eminent dire predictions.

And you thought they were just paranoid.....

Drat and Double Drat

Track day canceled. Here I sit in TN with bike fully prepped and the track day was cancelled due to ????. Nobody knows, but the brothers "C" are pissed, except for Nate who wasn't allowed to go anyway.

I saw y'all got into an "oil prices" discussion. Thread stealers. Just kiddin', the whole thing blows my mind, but I have to disagree with the assertion that folks charging more for fuel that they already had in their tanks than they originally paid for it is gouging. Small operators have to anticipate big hikes in their costs so they don't get pinched in a shortage. We have to pay them to buy fuel, store it, dispense it, and to provide the service of maintaining that convenient (to us) supply.

It will be interesting to see what oil company executives have to say in the upcoming congressional hearings. They did a piss poor job of dealing with the fallout from reporting record profits in times of shortage. Regardless of the economic reality most folks have a low level of understanding of economic principles and the way our markets function which leads them to pressure their representatives for action against oil companies. The executives of oil companies are well paid and should be sacked summarily after the things that got into the press concerning reactions to the latest quarterly reports.

This and the fact that there is no way to over-estimate the impact energy prices have on the economy have folks in an uproar. I couldn't help but notice that shortly after Bill Frist announced hearings into the matter fuel prices slid dramatically. CYA anyone?

Bill, I use the ballpein method of staking master links. Sometimes well developed hammer control comes in handy.

Zen and the Art

Damn! Is anything simple with these things? And just who the hell decided motorcycle chains had to be riveted at the masterlink? Oh, sure, it's reassuring to know there isn't a clip to fly off at 140 MPH, but that doesn't help SQUAT when the shop manual says, "Remove Chain".

I got the transmission cover off anyway and replaced the countershaft seal and the shifter shaft seal. I'm reassembling it tomorrow and putting it on the trailer. I am very excited about Sunday, though I do feel a bit twilight-zone realizing I am 40, riding around on a red motorcycle, and going to a race track for the first time.

I would concede a midlife crisis were it not that I have pretty much been a child for the entire previous 39 years and I assume one must have an adult year or two in there somewhere to qualify for regression.

On a lighter note: Nothing like a few pending indictments to send GW and Co. scurrying back to suck up to us neandrathal conservatives for support is there?!

The Day Approaches

The brothers "C" are preparing for their first day on a real honest to goodness racetrack. Poor old Big Red (GPz1100 @ 35000 miles)has oil leaks at the shifter shaft and countershaft seals which must be dealt with, Welldigger's YZF1000R is in the shop now getting prep done, and I don't know what Nate's gonna do for that poor garage queen CBR1000F. I'm gonna run on my Avon street tires since the edges are needing evening up to that flat spot down the center, anyway. Carbs could use a synch job, but I'm too lazy. There's plenty of smooth pull from 1500RPM anyway, and she howls like a demon above 5000.

Brakes - check
tires - check
body secure - check
chain - check
controls - check
boots and leathers - check
oil - check
fuel - check
masking tape to cover lights and gauges - check
shop manual - check
tools - check and doublecheck
The balls to give Big Red her head and see where the limit really is - Oh, Baby!


So, oil leaks will be remedied tomorrow, swap out the ethylene-glycol for water, a thorough onceover before tiein' her to the trailer, spike the fuel with some octane booster and then head out. That's the plan, though I'm sure Digger will be bitchin' Big Red isn't clean enough and she'll get another detailed goin' over.

Hope the weather holds nice for the weekend or mother nature could shoot all our hard made coordination and travel plans.

PS - Joy, BrandX posted some good advice under "The Desired Effect" post concerning your new Ninja.

Gettin' There Alive

Everyone has a particular part of riding that scares the bejesus out of them. Me? I hate intersections. I hate everything about 'em. Those left turning nincumpoops have got bullseyes painted on me, I can feel it. So, whenever possible I use another vehicle for "cover" as I pass through an intersection. If I spot a left turn signal I'll try to pass through the intersection on the right of a car or, preferably, truck crossing the intersection too. If the light has just changed as I approach I'll try to let a truck or car go through ahead of me to sorta "wake up" any motorists who might have been thinking of running that red light.

Got any good tips? Dish 'em.

The Desired Effect

Went ridin' today with some buddies. The usual crew plus two new guys. One of the new guys rides an FJR1300. WHOOWEEE! That thang is sweet I'm tellin' ya'. Sounds like an electric motor at idle. The other new guy had a ZX6R that is the old model but still does serious business past about 8000 RPM to the tune of about 98HP. There was the usual assortment of cruisers to wait on, also. Frank, Rainman, Timmy (hereinafter refered to as "Runaway"), and Pappy all made like flatulant elephants goin' down the road.

After a hearty breakfast at Cracker Barrel (does that hash brown casserole rock or what!?) we set out for parts unknown on HWY 25N. The ride was pretty much uneventful except for dinner in Erlanger, Ky. I make it a practice to periodically zoom the cruisers; always in the other lane and never crowding them. If I start a car length behind 'em, drop a gear and hammer it I usually will past the one directly in front of me with about a 25 MPH speed differential. Thosde farther up the line will get passed with as high as a 70 or 80 MPH differential. I do it cause I can't stand to poke along behind 'em any longer, but they think I do it to irritate 'em. Suits me. Typically I'll ride ahead about 3 minutes and then end up waiting 5 minutes or so on 'em, they give me the middle finger salute as they "blat" by. Great fun for all.

Runaway is a competitive type of guy and it just kills him for somebody to get in front of him, do better than him, finish ahead of him. You know the type. Well at dinner he was complainin' about me "thump"ing past him and must have forgotten himself, because he said,

"I kept watchin' for him to pass, and just as soon as I get to thinkin' he's not gonna, BAM!, there he goes! It scares the shit outta ya'! There nothing you can do! I always shake a few times, I can't help it."

That, my friends, is The Desired Effect.

My Favorite Motorcycle Story

I have read this in several places. Don't know, but it rings true from my perspective, anyway. The fella is riding an ST1100 a sport-touring bike with an emphasis on touring. It's big, heavy, and fast.
Enjoy

Date: Wed, 30 May 2001


The Story:

See why I HATE these fucking deer so much?

So there I was, riding to Gerlach and the infamous MASS GOLD endurance event. I had departed well after midnight, cruising down HWY 395, one of THE FINEST motorcycle roads to be found anywhere. I was just coming down a hill to an incredibly flat valley that stretched perhaps 1-2 miles before the next series of hills. This valley was flat, Flat, FLAT, with nothing but sagebrush that was only 12-18" high. I looked long and hard for any range cattle or other furry critters that could cause problems. Nope, not a thing on this prairie but sagebrush. I relaxed and descended into the valley floor.

I was approximately halfway across the valley when I went into another instrument scan. I checked the tachometer, looked up at the Sigma, then down to the temp gauge, then looked up to see the 75-lb doe looking right at me, standing directly in front of the bike, about 50 feet from impact.

The Sigma revealed I was traveling at 61 mph, which means I had about a half a second to do something. However, there was nothing to be done. I knew I was going to strike the deer, and even the deer looked like she knew she was about to die. As my brain realized that an accident was imminent, the classic perception of "time slowing down" kicked in, allowing all the following to happen prior to impact:

The first thing I did was silently scream at the deer, "Now, just where in the FUCK did you come from?!" This was just too unbelievable.... it's not like this deer emerged from a forest, and it's not like it had any place to hide!! [Note: surveying the crash scene afterward, I saw a somewhat more sizeable sage brush that the doe was (obviously) sleeping/hiding behind; it was about 24" high, immediately next to the point of impact]

I began an attempt to swerve behind the doe, started to push the right grip downward when (again, given that perception of "slow time") I realized it wasn't going to do any good, and I had better not be leaning when we struck, so I stood the bike up so I would have a "clean" impact. By now I was about 10 feet from the doe, and looked right into her eyes. Two thoughts flashed "Man, is my bride ever going to be pissed at me if I die like this...." and a second thought: "well, it's lookin' like there will be one less rider at MASS GOLD...".

I tore into her body at 61 mph.

The doe had decided to take another step before I hit her, so the front wheel split her body roughly mid-section, such that the forward 2/3's of the deer fell along the left side of the bike, the rear 1/3 of the carcass went down the right side. It was like you could feel and hear the sounds of cartilage, bone and sinew being snapped and torn asunder. My right lower leg was smashed with the rear hindquarters of the severed doe.

But what got to me was the shit. Literally. Shit! Deer shit.... lot's and LOT'S of deer shit!

The ENTIRE RIGHT HALF of the forward fuselage area was no longer Honda red.... it was brown and green!!! DEER SHIT!!!! I could not believe my eyes! Not only was there a massive amount of deer shit on the road, but my bike front and right side were AWASH in deer shit!! How can a creature hold this much shit in their bodies AND STILL BE ALIVE?!!! What, do these deer have to "shit on demand" for a living, or something?! There was an UNBELIEVEABLE amount of intestinal matter in every single crevice of the bike. Lovely aroma......

Since I had begun a right swerve, I was pointing slightly right when we struck, and after severing the animal, the bike was now pointed to the far right, and into the ditch beyond. I stabbed both brakes and start leaving fresh Dunlop and Metzeler on the road. My speed starts to bleed off, but I see with crystal clarity that I am fast approaching the edge of the road..... and snow-melt sand is *inside* the edge of the white line! "Guess I'm done bleeding off speed", I think to myself. Just before I reach the sand, I release the brakes as I look at the Sigma. It says 53 mph as the ST1100 leaves the road, and flies airborne into the ditch.

As we leave the road, I get up on the footpegs and assume my best Jeremy McGrath riding stance. The front tire slams down into the ditch and the rear end bounces up to try to pop me off the bike, but I'm ready for it, and hang on somehow. I bounce and hop all over the ditch, which is roughly 7 feet wide and three feet deep. I keep looking for the drainage ditch that will end my off-road adventure (and probably my young life) in an instant, the very same way Jack Baird got his serious injuries. First order of business, however, is to avoid the telephone pole that is fast approaching on the left. I manage to sneak past the pole, even though it knocked off my left mirror housing (amazingly enough, the post-accident inspection revealed not a single mark on the mirror housing... go figure!)

By now I am down to 30 mph, and I'm beginning to believe I might live if no Jack Baird drainage-ditch surprises me. About that time, I realize, hey, I'd better do something about getting the bike out of the ditch while I am still moving, or I'll be in this ditch a long time.

So I gently apply a little countersteering, and amazingly, the ST "walks up" the side of the ditch, trading speed for elevation. I am almost to the top of the ditch, and am only going 5 mph!! I finally come out of the ditch, and roll onto the paved shoulder just as I came to a gentle stop!!!! I slowly put the kickstand down. I stepped off the bike and immediately ran around to looked at the front end damage.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


The front fairings are all smashed. The fender is barely hanging on. The lower gray fairing has major holes torn all through it.... and there is a hoof in one of the holes!! The left middle fairing is cracked from top to bottom. The inner middle fair is..... gone!! COMPLETELY GONE!!! The right middle fairing is severely damaged with razor-sharp jagged edges that did most of the deer-slicing, along with the right tip-over guard. The force of the impact buckled and cracked the right (lockable) fairing pocket. Both side maintenance panels took impact damage. The right FIAMM electric clamshell horn is flattened and looks like a frisbee. The other FIAMM horn looks worse. The radiator has a sizeable dent in the right side, but appears intact. I expected to have radiator fluid everywhere, but the cooling system remained intact.

My Night Train was hit hard.... but still serviceable.

As I surveyed the damage, the adrenaline from the near-accident started to wear off, and was being replaced by a seething, raging anger. That fucking deer..... just LOOK at the mess it has made! Then, the final straw..... I discovered that the deer had cause me to lose the PIAA 910s! When I discovered this...... all my attention turn to the deer, still 250 feet back. Shaking with rage, I reached for the Browning, pulled back the slide, chambered a round, and started walking back to the carcass.

As I slowly walked back to the point of impact, I looked over to the left to see the deep, long furrow the ST1100 had made as it ran through the ditch and back up onto the highway. I walked past by the telephone pole that knocked off my mirror housing. As I approach the deer, I have to step around various organs and deer splatter to make my way around to the front 2/3 of the carcass. I lean over the head of the deer and look into her soft, brown eyes. I gently whisper "Fuck you", then empty the clip into her.

There's nothing like the sound of brass casings tingling on asphalt. Oh, yeah.

With the post-accident mental therapy complete, I reloaded the Browning and put it away. I walked back to the bike. Jesus, what a mess! I could not - could NOT - get rid of the stench of deer shit.... and no wonder, IT WAS EVERYWHERE!!! I dig into the Ventura bag for my Polaroid, and almost retch as I noticed that the entire right side of the bag is also encrusted with deer shit. I turned back and face the carcass, "HOW MUCH SHIT CAN YOU DEER *POSSIBLY* CARRY?!!!!!!! I was just stunned at the amount of deer feces distributed about the bike. When I get to the Polaroid, I see that it has no film. Damn, I REALLY wanted to get a few pictures of the carcass, but it was not to be.

I got back on the bike, and slowly made the 30-ish miles to Burns. It was completely un-nerving to look down through the opening of the triple-tree area (normally covered by the inner middle fairing) and see asphalt whirling by! And, DAMN, the smell emerging off the exhaust lines was INCREDIBLE!!! Upon reaching Burns, I rolled into a Texaco and dashed inside to buy one of those disposable cameras. I shot about a dozen pictures of the bike at various angles, then rolled over to the car wash area and borrowed their hose. I scrubbed and scrubbed for 45 minutes, and STILL couldn't get rid of the deer shit stench that came from the engine bay. I walked 200 feet away from the bike, and could STILL smell that deer shit! DAMN, that's some lingering aroma... or so I thought.

Later on that morning, I stopped in Lakeview, Oregon for some gas. Went to the restroom, and as I washed my hands, I took a brief look in the mirror. There, in my moustache, under the right nostril, was a nice dollop of green deer shit, all crusty and hard.

Fucking deer......

- Warchild '00 CBR1100XX '97 ST1100

Practical Shop Chemistry Essentials

I think I'll keep Bill around.....

WaterBoy - "What's an 'acetylene tank'?" (being a smartass.)

Gregg - "It's some kinda red round looking thing." (Also, being a smartass. Surprise!)

Ha! That's pretty funny Gregg! (as an aside for those of you that don't know tank color codes, red means something is not flammable, such as carbon dioxide. Acetylene tanks are yellow and about as flammable as it gets)

Waterboy,
Methane and acetylene are very different things.

Acetylene is a man-made gas used in welding (oxy-acetylene welding or "gas" welding) or metal cutting. Acetylene is produced either by combining methane with oxygen, or (99% of the time these days) it's produced by mixing calcium carbide with water. In addition to being used for welding acetylene is also used for hardening steel and for various kinds of chemical synthesis (for some reason acetylene is a particularly reactive hydrocarbon). Acetylene's chemical composition is two carbon atoms and two hydrogen atoms - C2H2.

Methane is a naturally occurring gas, which can also be made by heating sodium acetate with sodium hydroxide or by the reaction of aluminum carbide with water. Methane is usually used as a heating fuel and is not nearly as reactive as acetylene. Methane's chemical composition is one carbon atom and four hydrogen atoms - CH4
Bill | Email | Homepage | 10.14.05 - 5:12 pm

"reaction of aluminum carbide with water"
Remember those "headlamps" the coal miners used to use? They used calcium carbide under the same principal.

Why I Love Big Red

Notice the balled up rubber at the edge of the tread. This is due to cornering forces and thrust against pavement combining to such a degree that Big Red is actually 'sliding' past the apex of a corner under heavy application of throttle. What fun!

Caption Contest

Did Y'all hear about this?

The AP and UPI reported that the French government announced that it had raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are, "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The raise was precipitated by a recent fire which destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively disabling their military.

Beware Synthetic Oil !

After hearing wives tales from old codgers about this for years, I have found the final, definitive word.


The Dangers of Synthetic Motor oil

Beware of synthetic oil! It can do terrible things to you and your beloved GPz1100. It will not only leak out of your engine faster than you can put it in, but it will also cause your oil filter to clog and implode, dumping debris and dirt into your lubrication system. It also will make every part of your bike permanently slippery because of its linear molecular chain dispersion action. Then it will leak onto your kickstand causing it to retract automatically, dropping your bike on the ground! But that's not all... Synthetic oil will round off your gears and spin your bearings. It will also splatter onto your seat causing your girlfriend to fall off in the apex of a turn and she'll never ride with you again. Synthetic oil coats your sight window with a whitish pro-mulsification additive that is both non-removable and highly corrosive.

Synthetic oil will completely leak onto the ground overnight and your dog will drink it and die. Synthetic oil will wear out your tires and make your battery leak. It will give you the desperate need to urinate after you put your full leathers on and then jam your zippers shut. It will contaminate your gasoline causing your bike to stall on railroad tracks and accelerate uncontrollably near police cars. It will make it rain during rallies and on weekends. It will lubricate your timing chain causing it to jump teeth and break your valves to bits. Synthetic oil chemically weakens valves and causes the clearances to change every six miles. Then it melts the black soles of your riding boots night before you walk across your new carpeting.
While riding past groups of attractive women it will cause both of your handlebar grips to slip off at the same time so you smash your windscreen with the bridge of your nose.

It also causes your swing arm to crack, your studs to break, and your rotors to warp, and then it voids your warranty by changing your odometer reading to 66,666. It also dries out your wet clutch and wets your dry clutch. It makes your clutch slave cylinder seal fail in the heaviest traffic on the hottest day of the year while putting an angry wasp in your helmet for good measure. Synthetic oil hides your 12mm socket and puts superglue on your earplugs. Synthetic oil will scratch your face shield and make your gloves shrink two sizes night before track day. Synthetic oil stole your neutral and sold it to the Chinese for $1.25. Synthetic oil will make you grow a tail. Synthetic oil will write long crazy e-mails to your Internet friends and then sign your name at the bottom! It will also cause you to post long and stupid oil threads to the GPz List!

God loves the GPz1100 e-mail list as he has populated it with some of the most entertaining characters in motorcycledom and sometimes they are too good to not share. The about was sent out by a fella named Art L. and is one of the crazy coots who ride a bike that'll hit 60mph in 2.8 seconds.