Saturday, June 06, 2015

Battle Zone!

battle zone

There’s a Facebook quiz going around in which participants are asked to name a variety of 1980s arcade video games.

Steve and I both scored 100%.

But the quiz doesn’t include one of my all-time favorites – Battle Zone.

It was a lo-res tank combat game that Steve and Sean and I mastered to a degree that one or another of us owned the top scores on every machine we played.

The trick to defeating enemy tanks is not to try to evade them, but ram them from any angle other than head-on, then shoot them point blank. Once you got that technique down, all you had to do was survive as many buzz bomb attacks as possible.

It was funky and clunky, but I loved it and invested a lot of quarters perfecting my technique.

It’s open

valero

I stopped at the new Jordan’s Kwik Stop Valero station on the way to the post office this morning to top off the tank on my ‘03 BMW K1200GT and to get a closer look at Brookland’s newest business.

The station opened late this week on U.S. 49 after several months of site preparation and construction. It’s less than a mile south of another Jordan’s station/convenience store.

I noticed there was very little gas pump traffic at the old Jordan’s last evening when I stopped by for a couple of Subway sandwiches.

Google Earth’s view of the intersection of U.S. 49 and School Road is long overdue for an update. It still shows groves of trees on the west side of the intersection. They were cleared a couple of years ago.

valero02

The two houses along School Street northeast of the intersection were demolished a week or two ago and the trees were removed to make way for a Sonic drive-in.

Friday, June 05, 2015

It happened again

k75s postoffice

I came out of the post office yesterday morning to find a blonde in her 40s ogling my '94 K75S.

And, of course, she observed, "I didn't know BMW made motorcycles."

That’s one of the top three dopey things BMW riders hear from non-riders. The other two are:

  • “Aren’t those leathers hot?”
  • “Did you ride all the way here?”

The answers to all are “yes.”

I posted this exchange on BMW-related Facebook pages and drew hundreds of comments. The best came from Dana Harlan:

Once outside a cafe on a ride from Pennsylvania to Newfoundland a woman said, "ha, ha, you just stuck those (tank badges) on there!" We didn't correct her.

Bill Broadstreet

broadstreetfreakout 72

My late, great ATĪ© Fraternity brother Bill Broadstreet being the screen for a very colorful slide in 1967.

HDR Mick

mick72

Who knew you could massage a 45-year-old black & white image with HDR software and get something this cool?

Thursday, June 04, 2015

Yard art


This woman had a yard full of concrete figures at her home just east of Terry Airport on Ind. 32 near the Hamilton-Boone county line. She was very proud of them.

Wednesday, June 03, 2015

Hubcaps


March 13, 1985 - A couple of guys who worked at a gas station/lawn mower repair business at the intersection of Ind. 32 and Indianapolis Avenue in Lebanon, Ind., display a collection of hubcaps they recovered from the roadway as a result of cars hitting a monster pothole.

This was shot nine days after the launch of the Metro North Edition of The Indianapolis News and the beginning of my tenure as Metro North bureau chief.

Tuesday, June 02, 2015

Indiana's shortest railroad


Here's a photo I do remember something about.

I did a story in the 1970s about the shortest railroad in Indiana, which was down near the Ohio River and New Albany. I don't recall the name of the railroad, but a Google search turned this up:
MG Rail, Inc. (reporting mark, MGRI):  This terminal/switching railroad is operated by Consolidated Grain & Barge operating 3.7 miles near the town of Jeffersonville.  It utilizes a pair of former CSX GP16s.

Monday, June 01, 2015

I have no idea who they were



I wrote thousands of stories and shot thousands of rolls of film in my 33-year career with The Indianapolis News and later with The Indianapolis Star.

Going through my archival negatives, I find I can recognize and remember about half of the people and stories, but there area a lot of images where I draw a complete blank.

Like, for instance, this couple. I think the photos date from the late 1960s or early '70s, but I have no idea who they were or why I was in their house.

But being a Cancerian with a strong compulsion to save EVERYTHING, I have no plans to throw away and of the negs.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

49 years later


I scanned a few old slides this afternoon, including this one from the first roll of 35mm slide film I ever shot.

It's the South Main Street bridge over Cicero Creek in the city park at Tipton, Indiana in October, 1966. It was shot with my (then) new Minolta Himatic-7 rangefinder camera and I think it was on Kodachrome.

If only I knew then what I know now...

Happy Birthday, Lisa!


Our granddaughter Lisa is 11 years old today.

This is one of my favorite photos of her, shot three years ago when she and Steve came to visit us in our Arkansas home.

We don't see her as often as we would like, but we treasure the visits when they occur.

Friday, May 29, 2015

Horizons - Montana Timelapse


One of our neighbors is selling his house and his real estate agent used a drone to shoot several aerial views of the property a few days ago.

That's our house at the top center of the frame.

He's asking $379,900, but the Zillow.com real estate website estimates the market value at $256,640.

ISU


Indiana State University's version of Dean Wormer has kicked the ISU chapter of Alpha Tau Omega Fraternity off campus.

Does Indiana State still have a Homecoming Parade?

I guess a Prius wouldn't make a very good Deathmobile.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Rico Suave

My iPhone has an Amazon.com music app that supplements my library with stuff their algorithm thinks is compatible.
Sitting at Panera, sipping coffee and having finished the best cheese Danish I’ve ever had here, I’m listening to tunes with my Bang & Olufsen H8 wireless headphones and what should come up in the rotation but “Rico Suave,” the 1991 Latin hit by Gerardo Mejia, a sort of rapper from Ecuador.
I had a hard time not laughing out loud. It’s somewhere between comical and pathetic in the way that Vanilla Ice was conspicuous as a poser.

We can all take comfort in the knowledge that Gerardo turned 50 last month.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Fan club


We’re official fan club members.
The iLiving (so trendy, and made in China like all of the Apple stuff) 30” commercial pedestal fan arrived this morning. I hope the FedEx driver didn’t hurt himself/herself getting it up onto our porch. (The shipping weight is just under 70 pounds.)
I chose to put it together in the foyer rather, putting off the chore of moving it deeper into the house until later.
Assembly was straighforward and I had it together and ready to run inside of an hour. The only glitch was not recognizing the cosmetic collar that covers the five screws securing the pedestal to the base. It is the only part in the box that is not referenced in the assembly instructions or parts list and I didn’t realize what it was for until I had everything else assembled.
I lifted the upper part of the shaft out of the lower sleeve, dropped the collar down the sleeve and replaced the shaft with only a little awkwardness and sweat.

It has three speeds operated by a chain pull on the rear of the motor. I have no reason to doubt the claimed air velocity of 1,010 feet/minute at 10 feet.


Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Odd name, great film

We watched “Field of Lost Shoes” last night on Netflix and it resonated with me much more than I expected.
It’s the story of how the cadets at Virginia Military Academy won the Battle of New Market for the Confederates in 1864.
I felt more than a passing connection with the event, since my fraternity – Alpha Tau Omega – was founded at VMI in 1865 by three of the cadets who fought at New Market: Otis Alan Glazebrook, Erskine Mayor Ross, and Alfred Marshall.
They were among the kids who braved Union gunfire and cannon fire, charging and taking a Union artillery battery to the astonishment of Confederate commander Gen. John Breckenridge who reluctantly committed them to combat when other Confederate troops failed to arrive in time for the battle.
The name of the film is taken from the last scene and almost seems like an afterthought.
Well worth your time if you’re interested in the Civil War or examples of uncommon valor.

http://www.fieldoflostshoesfilm.com/

Monday, May 25, 2015

And Truth is the new Hate Speech

Quin Hilyer of the National Review articulates the same growing concern I’ve felt in recent years. I’m having trouble recognizing what this country has become and I know my parents, were they still alive, would be utterly baffled and outraged.

Some of us now struggle to recognize the culture we live in.

We are profoundly baffled and greatly disturbed by what seems like a complete inversion of values. The zeitgeist looks at actions that to us seem utterly unremarkable and treats them as major social sins or even illegalities.

Yet when other actions strike us as jaw-droppingly outrageous or corrupt, the larger culture shrugs without concern. If nearly half the culture acts and believes in ways that are alien to us, but they are backed by the establishment media hordes, then we in the other half feel utterly adrift — or, as the Robert Heinlein title put it, strangers in a strange land. Take, for example, the burgeoning controversies surrounding Hillary Clinton, which may finally be gaining a little traction in public consciousness — though the traction may be fleeting. What seems alien to us is that these scandals should be stampeding their way through every newscast and every front page of every newspaper, every day. Indeed, by rights, we should see one aspect of the many interlaced Hillary controversies as perhaps the biggest scandal in American governmental history.

Think about it. What’s the bigger story, the one that involves the more venal behavior while potentially harming the lives of more Americans: 1) a few goobers rifling through the office of the opposing political party and then having the president’s men try to cover up the petty hanky-panky; or 2) a former president and husband of the then-current secretary of state making  hundreds of thousands of dollars while the couple’s foundation gets millions, in a deal approved by the former first lady’s own State Department, which results in about half of this nation’s uranium falling under the effective control of the proto-fascist, anti-American leader of the nation with the world’s second biggest store of nuclear weapons?

The Clintons aren’t mere grifters. They are in their own level of grifter superstardom while putting all the rest of us at substantially greater risk of annihilation. Yet much of the media covers this story with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old swallowing castor oil, and much of the public still thinks Hillary is a minor deity. A goodly number of Americans apparently are aware of the scandal yet still fall at her feet.

They likewise excuse Barack Obama’s lies about “keeping your doctor” or “keeping your insurance plan” if you like them; they see him say harsh, even nasty things about his adversaries in a way prior presidents have rarely or never done, and generally coarsen public discourse, yet they still think he’s likeable. They say they believe quarterback Tom Brady cheated but say in the next breath that he’s a good role model for children.

These are somewhat random examples, but the theme is consistent: Behavior that once would have earned near-universal opprobrium or, in the case of the Clintons’ uranium deal, white-hot anger, now barely raises an eyebrow. Behavior that once would have earned near-universal opprobrium or, in the case of the Clintons’ uranium deal, white-hot anger, now barely raises an eyebrow.

And this isn’t even to delve into the general coarseness of the culture that positively celebrates depravities — and splashes them across the glossy pages of, say, People magazine — among elites of Hollywood, the music industry, and other walks of life. (Literally as I was writing this, a commercial aired on my TV advertising the third season of the ABC show Mistresses. In prime time. Enough said.)

It’s Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s “defining deviancy down” to a degree Moynihan himself may have found astonishing. Yet at the same time that we old-school types are bombarded by cultural rot of every kind, we also are hounded by what Charles Krauthammer called “defining deviancy up.”

He wrote: There is a complimentary social phenomenon that goes with defining deviancy down. As part of the vast social project of moral leveling, it is not enough for the deviant to be normalized, the normal must be found to be deviant. Large areas of ordinary behavior hitherto considered benign have had their threshold radically redefined up, so that once-innocent behavior now stands condemned as deviant. Normal middle-class life then stands exposed as the true home of violence, abuse, misogyny, a whole category of deviant acting and thinking.

So we see, for example, college professors all over the country being disciplined or even fired for innocuous statements in class that random students find offensive.

We see owners of various artistic businesses fined into oblivion for refusing to sell their artistic skills for ceremonies that violate their beliefs. We see ordinary words such as “arrogant,” “haughty,” and “thug” being denounced as racist (or sexist, or whatever).

We see people taking offense at “micro-aggressions” that are neither aggressive nor even visible under ordinary social microscopes.

We see parents sanctioned by the state for allowing their children to enjoy playgrounds unsupervised (oh, the horror, the horror).

We see stories of verbal pleading leading to consensual sex that is later reclassified as rape. (Who knew that Bruce Springsteen in “Jungleland” was describing not romance but rape when he sang of “whispers of soft refusal, and then surrender”?)

We’re now told that we can’t spank a misbehaving child; that we can’t read Huckleberry Finn because it features the “n” word; that we can’t name sports teams in honor of Indians; that syllogistic or “linear” logic is culturally oppressive; that it’s offensive if we pray in public or say “Merry Christmas”; and that we can’t allow our own 20-year-olds to drink a glass of wine with us in our own homes as a civilizing part of a holiday meal, but that we’re disastrously prudish if we don’t give them condoms for the sex we should be glad they are engaging in as a necessary form of self-expression.

In short, we’re told that so much of what we know is good and normal is actually bad, while so much that’s objectively awful is actually no big deal or even something worth admiring.

Nothing looks the same. The values, the culture, the standards, the frames of reference: All are skewed, trumped over, deconstructed, disorienting. We feel like we’re in a phantasmagoria, a Moody Blues lament in which “red is gray and yellow, white” — except that, unlike in the song, we are actually powerless “to decide which is right,” and the new cultural construct, unfortunately, is no illusion.

This isn’t only modernization we’re experiencing; it’s a veritable inversion of values and decency, and of the very nature of truth. Among us relics of a bygone age, the debate is not whether the current state of affairs is atrocious; the debate is whether we’re only at a tipping point or instead already beyond it.

The rough beast slouches ever closer, and we don’t know if we can stop him. We know, though, that we must try. — Quin Hillyer is a contributing editor for National Review Online. Follow him on Twitter: @QuinHillyer.
Read more at: http://www.nationalreview.com/article/418830/sea-alien-culture-where-normal-defined-deviant-quin-hillyer

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Motorcycle camping refinements

marshi1

This is how Maria and I loaded my bike for two-up riding and camping in October, 1996 at the Return to Shiloh BMW Rally.

The silver stuff sack holds my Eureka! Special Edition tent, then there are two Thermarest air mattresses, all lashed down with a couple of tie-down straps. And on top we secured a couple of sleeping bags with a cargo net.

We haven’t done much two-up touring in recent years, but my camping gear has gone through several refinements in the nearly two decades since this photo was made.

The Eureka! Special Edition died in a storm at the 1998 BMW MOA Rally in Missoula, Mont. It was temporarily replaced by a gigantic 10x10 tent from a Missoula sporting goods store, followed by a dome tent from REI in Portland, Ore., and a Galyan’s Special Edition tent by Eureka! in 2005 that I used up through last OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOctober when it became apparent that the floor was no longer completely waterproof. I replaced it with a Eureka! Tetragon 5.

I retired my Thermarests in 2012 and switched to a much smaller, yet much more comfortable Big Agnes Q-Core that is small enough to fit into my saddlebag along with a battery powered inflator. Before the Big Agnes and the inflator, I’m pretty sure my Thermarests could not pass a breathalyzer test when I deflated them at the end of each rally.

Last weekend was the first trial run of my newest version of camping gear, the big improvement being the Tetragon 5 (the 5 indicates a capacity of 5 people) tent with a 9x9 footprint and a ceiling high enough for me to stand, even with my little LED chandelier dangling from the peak and expansive enough to tent and chairaccommodate my camp chair.

The other first-time refinement was indoor plumbing, something I resisted for years even though several of my contemporaries now carry a bottle to pee into. I have to admit, not having to pull on pants and boots and hike to a port-o-let when nature calls at 2 a.m. is far more luxurious than I had imagined.

I finally worked out a way to use criss-crossed ROK Straps to firmly attach a $10 Walmart canvas chair to the luggage rack so it doesn’t flop around en route.

I’m sure things will evolve further, but last weekend’s camping experience in Burkesville, Ky. was the most comfortable and hassle-free ever and my bike looks less like an overloaded pack mule than it did 20 years ago.

And I neither want nor need a trailer.

packed tightly

Friday, May 22, 2015

Stupid Vine request

pedestal fanIt’s been a few weeks since the Amazon Vine Program offered me anything that piqued (not peaked or peeked) my interest.

But when I checked a few minutes ago I found my offerings included this 30” commercial/industrial pedestal fan that lists for $199.

Why in the world would I want to add a big-assed fan to the clutter in my garage?

I guess it’s the Vine version of an impulse buy.

It gets beastly hot here in the summer months and the ceiling fan on the screened back porch has limited cooling power. I envision pointing this bad boy out on one end of the porch and drawing huge volumes of air through the area on those oppressive days when there is no breeze. I only hope it’s not so loud that we can’t carry on a conversation.

It would also be handy for drawing fresh air through the house, since we almost never open our windows.

And it could speed the drying process after I pressure wash the back porch.

I’m sure Maria will think I’ve lost my mind when this thing shows up, but what the hell? Why not?