Now With 33% More NONSENSE!

Retro-Practical Thumb Shifters

2009-07-20T12:58:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of my SRAM shifting because:
1) The rear derailleur pivots wear out and get sloppy after a season.
2) 1:1 ratio makes it take three or four strokes to shift down the whole range of gears.
3) With my giant hands I often shift accidentally.

I'm now running "vintage" Suntour Accu-shift Plus Expert thumb shift levers with an XT Shadow derailleur and XT 8 speed cassette on my trail bike (2x8 speed), and with an older XT derailleur on my commuter (1x8 speed). The shift action is the QUICKEST, most intuitive, simple, and concise of anything I've used in 20 years of trail riding. I never wanted 9-speed and would still use 7 if I could get good hubs. Shimano's new Shadow derailleurs are the best design and have the strongest spring of any I've seen.

Problems though are arranging the shifter around bulky hydraulic brake levers, and simultaneous control actions (shifting, braking, and holding on for dear life).

My trail bike with Suntour Accushift 7/8 speed levers.

Detailed Version:

Hey kids, gather 'round and listen to old-man Larry blather about bike shifting. Since 1988 I've tried most types of shifters for trail bikes. My first bikes had top-mounted lever shifters, or thumb shifters. Initially they weren't even indexed and you had to hunt around to get your derailleur aligned just right. Indexing was a glorious development.

Grip shift was short lived on my trail bike and has appeared on a cruiser or two. It is an elegant, simple, intuitive, light technology. I like it on a comfort bike or commuter, but on the trail the big wrist/arm motion is hard to isolate from your steering, and since my hands are freakishly large, I found myself accidentally shifting through tech sections. Not good.

Rapid-Fire and other triggers are really the most practical solution for trail riding. You can simultaneously maintain grip on the bars, apply the brakes, and shift. I do have some gripes though. Over time the action required to perform the task of shifting keeps increasing. I recall (correctly?) the original XT rapid-fire could down-shift the entire range with one thumb stroke but subsequent generations required two strokes. SRAM's 1:1 actuation on rear derailleurs increased a full range shift to three strokes. 1:1 is marketed as improvement to shifting accuracy, but I argue indexing and derailleur alignment are what affect shifting accuracy. Shimano accuracy was never a weakness. My other complaint with recent SRAM triggers is the hair-trigger and location of the up-shift lever makes it extremely easy to unintentionally upshift, especially with my goon-hands. I think Shimano rapid-rise shifters have the same issue, but I have never really used them.

My urban commuter. Note the contact between the shifter and brake handle.

Though I preferred Shimano shifters, I preferred SRAM rear derailleurs for their stronger springs. Unfortunately SRAM and Shimano shifters and derailleurs are not compatible, so for the last three seasons I rode SRAM. A downside to SRAM derailleurs has be the main pivots have shit bearings. I've been getting little more than one season out of SRAM derailleurs, while the same XT I rode for at least 3 seasons is still in service on my urban bike.

Shimano has finally issued the Shadow deraileurs, which besides having the strongest spring of any derailleur I've seen, also has a very practical low-profile design reducing the risk of bending your derailleur. The XT Shadow is the nicest I've ever used.

To me, more speeds are an unnecessary cross country and road racing trickle down. Racers like to meet an exact cadence so more gear ratios may make sense. The rest of us don't give a shit and just want our favorite few combinations as quickly as possible. More gears are pretty easy to ignore though and don't bug me as much as the wider cassettes that came with the jump to 8 speed. The wider cassette standard reduces how much width is between spoke spindles, which reduces lateral strength of the wheel.

Trail bike again. Note my 1.5 grip setup for those of us with less dainty hands.

Anyway, this rant is inspired by my latest shifting configuration. My increasing distaste for my SRAM set up has given me a new appreciation for a setup that can sweep the entire range of gears with one motion in either direction. I've installed a set of Suntour Accu-shift Expert 7/8 speed shifters mated to and XT Shadow derailleur and XT 8 speed cassette.

Best Burrito In Salt Lake City

2009-07-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

Flavor (F 1-5): Fresh ingredients, preparation, and a good recipe.
Value (V 1-5): How filling is it for the price?
Beer (B y/n): Can you get a beer?

Hit List:

Lone Star Taqueria (F-5 V-4 B-N): I don't wander down to the Ft Union area often, but will go out of my way to eat here. The best tasting. Large. Very fresh and rich with grilled (not fried) fish options. Business hours are a little limited and no Sunday. :(

Barbacoa (F-5 V-5 B-Y): Several locations around the valley now. Very lean, healthy ingredients with great flavor. Fast counter service. A bit spendy but the burritos are as big as my head.

Rico's (F-5 V-5 B-N): Besides their frozen burritos you can find at most local grocery chains, you can venture down the 600 S industrial district to their new Cafe location. Rico's used to have a lunch deli near Liberty Park where they now only have a market. :( If you choose the right variety you will get a great tasting burrito meal on the cheap. Some flavors should be avoided though. I think they forgot to taste-test the spinach feta before putting it on the market. Go for the vegan mole (weather you're a veg or not) or the con creme options.

Alberto's 500 South (F-4 V-5 B-N): Open 24/6, this place has decent size at a cheap price, and the ingreedients are pretty good. Best late-night option.

Shit List:

Cafe Rio: Actually the burritos are yummy, but I refuse to eat there for two reasons. The line there is longer that a ride at Disney Land, and sugar is a major ingredient in most of the food. Every time I eat there I'm a bit disturbed by the gluttony.

Beto's, 400 South: Not all Beto's are equal. I used to eat at the 400 South location but the quality has declined to the point that my dog won't even eat it. Last I checked the North Temple west side location was still good.

Molca Salsa: On 3300 South this was my local default dealer, but the prices keep going up and the sizes keep going down. Yummiest, smallest, $5 burrito in town. Also used to be 24/7.

Taco Bell: Spare me.

Cafe Rio: Food for fat people. Sweet meat and sauces taste like they've had a can of sprite dumped in. Always crowded and you have to wait in the amusement park ride line packed with kids and people who look like they need to back off the sweet pork.

Contact

2008-09-16T15:51:00.000-07:00

You are welcome to contact me.

Great Browser Game

2008-04-10T10:44:00.000-07:00

My bro just linked me to this VERY COOL game. Very simple, challenging, and addictive.

Mexico Vacation

2008-03-10T09:41:00.000-07:00

I just returned from my first real international travel. I've spent time in Canada which has no cultural difference for me, and Cancun Mexico, which was like Vegas with a beach. This trip took me beyond the culture and lifestyle I'm accustom to.

My traveling companion was Radha, an ex-girlfriend with whom I maintain a great friendship. Radha spent Summers in Mexico with her grandmother as a child, and was an exchange student during high school. She speaks fluent Spanish and knows the culture. She loves the people and they seemed drawn to her, despite the giant gringo she kept in tow.

Mexico City: We landed there and took a cab through an insane rush hour to a bus station. Compared to the US where traffic is very structured and procedural, there traffic is organic and dynamic. Vehicles flow like liquid, filling empty spaces and favoring the path of least resistance. When the flow on the freeway slows or stops, vehicles spill over the curb onto the frontage or side streets. Horn use is frequent and almost as sociable as a wave, usually announcing one's presence rather than displeasure.

Mexico City initially intimidated me. After our last night in Mexico however, which we spent eating one of the best meals of my life, night clubbing, and staying at a very stylish yet inexpensive hotel, I'd love to explore this city further.

Transportation: The transit systems were very effective and inexpensive. I see no reason to rent a car there. First class buses are very comfortable with big reclining seats. Greyhound is a farce by comparison. Taxis are cheap and I found them very entertaining. The front seat is usually offered, they laugh if you put on a seatbelt. 'Combis' or 'micros' are a taxi/bus hybrid, usually a VW bus, that run routes between two towns picking up or dropping off passengers along the way. They stuff them full of passengers. Someone may get on with a container of goods they are taking to market. One woman we rode with was transporting a giant, uncovered serving dish of hominy soup.

Acapulco: It's a resort town. Giant hotels. Tons of tourists. Fortunately we stayed at a small hotel at the other end of town where Mexicans come to vacation. We did venture out to some night clubs and a tourist island where we had heard correctly about a secret cove where we could snorkel.

Petatlan and La Barrita: My favorite place was Petatlan. A small town nearly completely off the tourist radar. We bussed in, checked into 'Hotel California', and went for dinner at a wonderful little restaurant on the town plaza. As we ate the plaza filled with families and teenagers. Radha explained that Sunday evenings are a customary time for social gathering in small towns. Kids were playing soccer in the basketball court, boys and girls were flirting or circling the plaza on motor scooters or farm pickups, boys teasing and mock-wrestling each other, girls holding hands as they walked, parents and seniors strolling around. It was a happy, trusting sense of community, and a surprising good time.

The next day we met Steve, or 'Esteban', an expatriate from Oregon who had been living for 35 years up the road near La Barrita, a tiny resort area with one small hotel and a few restaurants on the beach under palm ramadas. We spent the afternoon there and enjoyed it so much we stopped again and stayed a night during our return trip.

Hotels: We stayed at hotels ranging from about 300 to 700 pesos, which is a little less than $30 to $70 US dollars. The nicest hotel was only $35 in Mexico City; very modern, stylish, and comfortable. The more expensive hotels were the in resort areas. My favorite hotel was the bungalow we got in Zihuatanejo. It was on the beach with a view and $60 was a bargain. Hotels often had some minor problem: No hot water, AC or TV not working, elevator out of order. In one room we lost power and had to move to another.

Zihuatanejo: I loved it. It is touristy, especially coming from Petatlan, but much more pleasant than Acapulco. The sound of surf and the breeze blowing through our bungalow room on the hill above the beach was perfect. Toward town on the beach front was the expected tourist shopping district, but a few blocks inland things quickly felt more authentic. I loved the beach there and caught some pretty big waves body surfing.

We walked into an arcade and I was quickly challenged by a group of local boys to the best arcade game ever: A punching machine. It cost only one peso for four punches. It had a thick pad on a short lever that would sense the force or velocity when you punched it. It was a riot taking turns wailing on this machine, cheering and moaning with these local boys. It took the kid who appeared to be the resident champion a while to beat my high score.

Laguna de Mitla: On the return trip we spent a night at a small hotel near Coyuca with the lush Laguna de Mitla on in back and a beautiful beach in front. We body surfed, kayaked the laguna, lounged...

The vacation aspects, good food, sunny beaches, no worries, all wonderful and effective, but I can have a great vacation here in the US or Utah any time. Meeting such people living so differently was the real thrill and it has changed my perception and perspective.

Check out the photos.

Another blog. Just what the world needs.

2008-02-24T21:34:00.000-08:00

I started a blog for our 24 Hours of Lemons team. All my post regarding racing and cars will be made on The Verbose Beater-car Racing Chronicle.

Time Lapse Tempest

2008-02-13T00:49:00.000-08:00

My dad stopped by again and we tweaked settings for the vector monitor. It looked like it had be serviced by someone who didn't have much experience with these fairly unique monitors, and once they had confirmed it was 'working' as well as typical arcade monitor they walked away. We made some huge improvements and now the game really pops.

Time lapse photos of Tempest are interesting. Here are a few with my crappy snapshot camera. I'll post some better ones later when I can borrow a better camera.

Atari Tempest: What's So Cool About It?

2008-02-11T12:54:00.000-08:00

It works! My dad fixed my Tempest Machine!

...Continuing my previous post, let me first say that if you have tried Tempest in MAME, XBox, Playstation, or any other emulator or remakes, you have not had an adequate Tempest experience. On many versions the sound effects are horrible approximations, but the big omission is the knob controller. No mouse, stick, game pad, or trackball comes close to the feel, precision, and speed of a knob spinning a hefty little fly-wheel.

I sucked at arcade games when I was a teen in the early eighties. The irresistible draw was quickly overcome by frustration and lack of quarters. My attempts at Asteroids, Defender, Pac-man, Donkey Kong, and many others including Tempest, were always short-lived. Joust and Centipede were the only games I could survive long enough to enjoy. So I don't really have nostalgia for my youth in the arcade. Commodore 64 games like Lode Runner, Boulderdash, Jumpman, and Space Taxi have that honor.

Something about Tempest appealed to me though. The abstract, vanishing-point, vector graphics and the pulsing sounds created a psychedelic aesthetic that drew me to finally buy one, and now another one.

I made an important discovery with Tempest. You cannot excel by deliberate effort. You have to relax, adhere to the game's rhythm, watch with a broad perspective, and allow you mind to react involuntarily to the events in the periphery. It's a meditative state. This is exactly the same way I derive maximum enjoyment from biking, snowboarding, and other recreational pursuits. I have know idea weather this was intent of the designers but I have yet to see another game achieve this as effectively.

Tempest is as good as any milestone marking the end of the analog era and the dawn of the digital age. From the beginning of electronic technology until then, analog signals and wave forms were manipulated to model and record shapes and sounds. Forward from that point, the images and sounds our machines will be grids of pixels and streams of samples, all digital reproductions. Tempest sounds are synthesized. The graphics are drawn lines which only a few very early games can claim.

Tempest also marks a unique era in game design. The primitive technology did not allow any realism or much complexity. Games were necessarily abstract, concept driven, and required more imagination to design than today's games which generally model reality as closely as technology allows. Even though I think it's a blast to race cars in Gran Tourismo, and thrilling to play a soldier in Call Of Duty, I get more excited about doing something truly unreal like rolling skyscrapers into a giant ball in Katamari Damaci.

Video Game Weekend

2008-02-10T23:05:00.000-08:00

(10pm: Can I really get to be before 11 if I start this entry?)

I have a cold so I couldn't snowboard. I got in a few hours of gaming this weekend, which is a lot for me. I used to be a game junky on the id Software track, depriving myself of sleep and nutrients for Wolfeinstein, Doom and Quake, with a generous helping of Parallax Software's Descent. At some point I burned out and games are an occasional recreation now instead of a full-time addiction.

Games just aren't as imaginative as the used to be. Clever, creative, unique games still get my attention.

I spent some time playing Katamari on the PSP. I love the Katamari games.

Some old friends came over bearing an XBox 360, on which we played some classic Doom, a mile-stone in game history and a favorite to this day. Halo 3 was really good looking but just another FPS to me. I don't know how anyone plays FPS games without a mouse.

(10:25 damn I'm slow.)

Then was noticed Rez HD was available for download. This fact may sell me on XBox. I LOVE Rez and it was one of the games that pushed me to buy a PS2. The HD XBox version was gorgeous with improved resolution and frame-rate. The rhythmic pulsing controllers are an essential part of the original though and I don't know if that feature is included in the XBox version.

But the big game-geek time-sink this weekend was my purchase of a 1981 vintage upright Tempest Machine.I owned one for a few years in my early 20's. Bought it for $200 and sold it for $275 a few years later when I was married. They became highly sought in the in the late nineties and I saw them ebaying for $1600. I still see some asking that high, but they seem to sell for around $600.

On a sort of long term whim, I exchanged emails with a seller for a couple weeks, drove about 45 minutes north yesterday, play tested for a few minutes, then handed over $600 and loaded up. Once I had it in my basement I got a bout 5 minutes into the first game and it started crashing. After a few resets it was dead.

....SHIT

My dad was an electrical engineer for 20 years, designing oscilloscopes and signal generators for Hewlett Packard. He stopped by this afternoon, took a look at the diagrams that had been stashed in the machine's cabinet, and after probing with his meter for about 10 minutes he had ID'ed a failed component, had online suppliers and prices on my computer, and handed me a note with local suppliers that should have the widgets in stock during business tomorrow.

....Cool

(11:04. I'll blather more about how cool this game is later.)

2008-02-05T12:06:00.000-08:00

SUMOTORI DREAMS is a BRILLIANT game! I laughed my asses off. Everyone must try it.

Music Move

2008-02-01T10:36:00.000-08:00

Under pressure of friends I've decided to begin pursuing my DJ hobby more actively. I've created a separate blog for my alias DJ Derivative. All music related posting will be done there and I've moved my music recommendations there.

Are you going to eat that?

2008-01-28T21:06:00.000-08:00

I found a pie in my yard today. So I put it on the Craigslist lost and found. I wonder what responses I'll get.

"Found: A frozen, boxed, Swans brand key-lime pie this evening in a snowbank in the 2700s 2300e area. Packaging was not damaged so I put it in my fridge to thaw. I'm going to dig into it soon so if you want it back you better email me quick."

All My Bikes

2008-01-22T20:45:00.000-08:00

How did I get here?

It started with a Big-Wheel. The Christmas morning I got it, the fat kid next door took it and broke the fork off before I ever rode it. I cried to my parents who said "that's the way it goes". I passed this important lesson on to my little brother and commandeered his Big-Wheel.

Next up was a mid-70's, Special Edition Denver Broncos "Orange Crush" Schwinn Scrambler. It was orange with a purple banana-seat and grips and super-fun.

When I was 14 I excavated my dad's old bike from the tool shed and started riding everywhere. It was a huge, heavy, yellow, Schwinn 10-speed beast. I was always standing up and cranking hard. My thighs stopped fitting in my jeans.

At 15 my parents gave me a Univega touring bike. It was great while it lasted but was stolen at a store where I was contemplating which model airplane would be the coolest to blow up with fire-crackers. A year later I had a drivers license and didn't care when the police recovered the Univega from a field.

When I was 22ish I bought an '88 Specialized Stumpjumper on a whim. Just as I was realizing how fun trail riding was I crashed and ripped my arm out of it's socket. By the time I had recovered I had moved to Park City where I began to explore the alpine trails.

I bought a newer ('92?) Stumpjumper with a 1.5 inch suspension fork. I went on my first trip to Moab, where biking became part of who I am. It was a revelation. The landscapes, challenge, and exhilaration were a combined experience I will never stop pursuing. A year later I moved to Salt Lake, parked my car, and spent a six months riding for my primary transportation and recreation.

My Cannondale Super V 1000 was stable, light, responsive, and strong. Coming from a cross-country riding background it seemed very plush with 3" full suspension. It got stolen from the back of my truck after a few years or good riding.

The Cannondale 2000 Jekyll was my least favorite bike. I was too big and riding too hard to keep being a weight-weenie. It was 28 pounds with about 4 inches of travel. Once I fitted it with higher rise stem and got out of the face-first cross-country position, it was much easier to ride bigger obstacles. I broke 3 wheels, the frame, and the swing arm while I owned it. I sold it.

My Cannondale Gemini 900 was a used rental. It had 6" travel and weighed 35 pounds. I never worried about breaking it and I could still pedal up anything I wanted. The suspension design was primitive so it tended to buck on jumps and was hard to balance, but I had a great time on it. I rode it for 3 seasons before it was stolen from the back of my truck.

I bought a BMX bike with a banana seat at a garage sale and kept it at my office. It was similar to my Scrambler, and a pretty comical ride for a 6'4" adult. I'd ride it around campus to meetings and classes, and even rolled downtown for lunch. (I work at University of Utah which is uphill from downtown Salt Lake. I never locked it and it was never stolen. Hopping the train back to my office was mandatory because "Scooty Puff Jr" was too small to actually pedal. I gave it to a friend who wanted a Burning-Man bike.

My little BMX cruiser was so much fun I decided to get a real cruiser I could ride to work. I ended up with an Electra Townie 24. With a few upgrades I had a fun, relaxed bike, faster than most mountain bikes on my commute. I keep it on hand now as a 'breakfast bike' to roll down the cafe late weekend mornings.

My current trail bike is Trek Session 77, another used rental. The suspension design is more advanced that my previous swing-arm bikes, and the difference is huge. For the first time I can do transition jumps and balance obstacles are much easier. It has 7" travel and weighs over 41 pounds. I can still do all the major climbs around Park City, but it is work.

Having a third bike certifies one as a bike nut. I bought a hardtail (another rental) in Park City for $250 and commuted it for about two weeks before it disappeared from a coffee shop. I missed it. A friend pointed out the Nashbar Signature frame, an inexpensive, high-end material/construction hardtail. I put a ridged fork on it and discovered ridged hurts, even on the street, so I'm running some bigger slicks that can soak up about an inch of impact. My fave feature is the 1x8 drive train with an old-school lever shifter. For the intended task this bike is simple, fast, fun, light, strong, and I love it.

Substitue Profile

2008-01-06T22:11:00.000-08:00

Due to the suckyness of the built-in profile thingy, see this post instead for some superficial crap about me:

My Favorites
Bike Trail: Gooseberry Mesa
Snowboard Resort: Snowbasin
City: Vancouver BC
Car: 88-89 Toyota MR2, Superchared
Food: Sushi
Simpson Character: Arnie Pie
Arcade Game: Tempest
Console Game: Rez
Book: Neuromancer, William Gibson
Movie: City Of Lost Children
Music: Don't get me started.
Cocktail: White Russian with Vox Vodka

Age: Born 1967

Altitude: 6'4

Dog: Lego, German Shorthair, Female.

Car: '98 Toyota Tacoma

Bike: Trek Session 77

Job: Network Admin

Hometown: Salt Lake City. Previously Snohomish County WA, Loveland CO, Sunnyvale CA, Redbank NJ.

Mac or PC: PC

My 24 Hours Of Lemons (Part 2)

2007-11-19T17:51:00.000-08:00

(I copied this post to my team blog. The images on this one got jacked up and I'm not going to fix it.)

(Back to part 1)

Our race car was an '85 Toyota MR2. I'm 6'4". Despite being among the smallest cars ever sold in the states, I drove an '88 MR2 for years. They are comfortable for someone my size. People would ask if my clown suit was at the cleaners, but there was plenty of leg room and my head just cleared. I found it more comfortable than my grandmother's knee-mashing '84 Cadillac Seville. The MR2 cockpit was a comforting, efficient cocoon, and the ride was more like a go-cart than anything I've driven including go-carts.

Stripping the interior and welding a roll-cage in changed some of that. Graceful entry/exit was impossible no matter your size. It was like playing Tetris with your body parts (not in a sexy way). At some point your ass juts awkwardly out the door as you unfold the rest of yourself into the seat. The roll bar offered negative 2.5" of head clearance, so I had to sit forward with my dome poking out of the sunroof frame.

My first turn behind the wheel began under a yellow flag as they cleared wreckage. I Merged into the field of big bashed-up cars. When the green flagged dropped, (again I only knew by the ensuing mayhem) all the cars got very loud, fast and close. The comfort zone we are used to on public roads is vast. A car lengths ahead and behind and wide lanes separating neighbors, considerate turn and brake indicators... On a race track about nine cars take the space of two cars on a public road. Cars were within inches or contacting on all sides. Entering the first hard corner on my first green lap, a giant 1970ish Ford Ranchero (sporting school bus yellow paint and signals) demonstrated some of Newton's more anti-social laws of physics by transferring a large dose of kinetic energy to the ass-end of my car, through the roll bar, to the back of my helmet, and finally into an uncomfortable knot in between my neck and shoulders. My mood shifted from more than intimidated to less than terrified.

I had driven my old MR2 fast on the road at times. Fast in my mind, but never close to the capability I had no clue the car had. For the first laps I was still just driving fast in my mind, stomping the accelerator, shifting quickly, keeping the rpms near red-line, and getting a little squeal from the tires as I rounded the corners. All the other cars were swarming past. I was sure we had the wimpiest car on the track. As aggression gradually displaced intimidation, the flow of traffic past me slowed. I started keeping pace with cars that had been passing me easily. Then after several laps of focused concentration and patience, I saw and took the opportunity to pass one. In my elation I over-cooked the next corner, spun out, and was passed by the car and several others.

The essence of racing: You must submit to your deepest aggressive insticts, yet exercise the restraint necessary to remain focussed and aware of your limits and consequences. Conditions, equipment, and competition are all secondary to this internal psychological conflict. (Pro dual-slalom mountain bike racing is an incredible display of this conflict.)

Since Joe had forgotten his gloves at the start of the race and was flagged into the pits immediately, we started in about 79th position, just ahead of a few cars that died in the first lap. During the first day we were pitting on most yellow flags to pry our bashed fenders away from our wheels and switch drivers.

Each of our team learned the capabilities and limitations of the car and themselves. Joe was the fastest and rudest on our team. He really had no regard for yielding the inside line* to the car ahead of him. He was playing bumper cars. Randall was fast and consistent, rarely making mistakes. I was the worst driver. Many times I would spin-out after finally struggling past a car into an unhindered section of track. One thing I was proud of was my instinctive spin-out recovery. From my first spin-out I had the car in reverse and moving back into position before the spin-out was complete. All of us were moving up in the standings.

Once we had each driven a shift, our attitude moved away from 'let's be sure we all get a turn before the car dies' to 'let's be sure to finish the race before our car dies'. By that evening when our standing had moved into the top half, we again changed our thinking to 'let's compete'. I started checking the standings frequently and picked a few cars that I wanted to beat.

When the day's racing was over the pits came alive. Everyone had repairs and maintenance to perform. We changed oil and checked tires. I went to work cutting our fenders away with a grinder and saw, then curling the resulting sharp lip up with pliers. Our car had been bashed, scarred, and even punctured. We were exhausted and aching. No one suggested getting drunk and goofing around. We were happy to collapse at the hotel after wolfing down a couple In-And-Out Burgers.

The next day I was in line to drive first. I was too nervous and let Joe start. When I got behind the wheel later in the morning I started applying some of the more advanced driving techniques I learned from 'Gran Tourismo' on Playstation. One of the great features of that game is the realistic physics of a car's handling. The game tutors you on 'weight transfer'** techniques whereby you take advantage of increased traction under breaking and acceleration. Combined with the size and braking ability of the MR2, weight transfer allowed me to squeak past many cars that had to decelerate sooner before a corner. I continued to refine my technique until I was drifting corners nicely and having a riot.

Again I was over-excited after a difficult pass and found an long open stretch between me and my next opponent. I came out of the far high-speed sweeper too hot and nailed a stack of tires. Once passenger side of the car came back to earth it was not steering properly. In the pits we saw that the front wheels were pointed a wide angle away from each other. I had the sinking realization that I had blown it for the team. I had bent a steering arm, but using his know-how and some blunt instruments, Randall had me back on the track in about 15 minutes with perfect alignment. I mentally kick myself when I add 15 laps to our final result, but what a relief I didn't kill the car.

The laps ticked by but never became monotonous to drive or spectate. I was at the edge of my seat for hours. Our position had been hovering in the high twenties most of the day. One by one we put arbitrary rivals behind us, and I picked new rivals. As the finish approached the struggle became noticeably more aggressive. Finally the checkered flag flew. After nearly 700 laps, the first and second place cars finished seven seconds apart. I hovered around the bulletin board anticipating the printout of the final results. We were 18th.

Some before/after pics:

(Part 1)
*Yielding the inside line: The fastest way around a corner is to move from the outside of the track into the apex of a corner and back to the outside as you exit the corner in one sweeping motion. The reduces the need for braking and increases you exit speed. You're supposed to yield this line to a car that is ahead of you.

**The weight of the car shifts forward under hard braking, increasing the traction of the front tires, allowing you to turn a corner at a higher speed. Weight and traction to the rear of the car is decreased during this heavy breaking, so as you round the corner the rear end of starts to slip to the outside. Accelerating shifts the weight and traction to the rear end.

My 24 Hours Of Lemons (Part 1)

2007-11-07T15:18:00.000-08:00

(I copied this post to my team blog.)

I don't feel the need to blather about my life generally, but this experience I can't shut up about. Now that I've started blogging there are a few other topics I'll likely blog about: Music, relationships, biking, games... Yawn. Maybe not. We'll see how it goes.

24 Hours Of LeMons

The 24 Hours Of LeMons is a 2 day, 14 hour car race, held at a race track, and restricted to cars that are worth roughly $500 or less. My girlfriend called it "a bunch of dumb men going around and around all weekend". While that is mostly accurate aside from a few dumb women in the ranks, I'll add to that description.

It was the most thrilling experience of my life. It was incredibly intense and outrageously entertaining. It was like being in a Mad Max movie.

A little background: I have never raced ANYTHING before. Though often mistaken for a 'jock', I'm a pretty relaxed guy who has never been that competitive. When I was a kid my parents put me in pee-wee football. I loathed being put in the game and would hide from the coach on the sideline. I'm competent in my selected recreational pursuits, but at a young age decided the best way to ruin a fun activity way to take it too seriously. I had a passion for driving fast when I was younger, but now I find the speed limit is almost meditative in it's relaxation. There has always been a little rivalry among my brothers, but for the last decade they've been too out of shape to challenge me at much.

But the race: This is not a oval course with cars of nearly equal size and performance. This is tight course packed bumper to bumper with all sizes of shit-boxes. Vehichles no one expects to survive, or much less to preserve the paint jobs. The race started with 85 cars pacing under a yellow flag*. I watched the line of cars march around the course completely and still more cars were entering from the pits. The slow rumble was ominous. All the exhaust systems had been butchered for a cheap, loud, and effective horsepower gain. Weld in a roll-cage and remove all the lights and windows from any car and it is transformed to a machine you want to stay away from. The course was stuffed with these.

My jaw clenched when the decibel level abruptly shot up. Suddenly there was far too much sensory input to take in. I never had time to confirm the green flag**. My eyes were darting around the course looking for sources of the sounds of collisions. My attention was drawn to a cloud of smoke and the car it poured from in the middle of the course, then an uncomfortable car that has spun backwards and stalled in the first hairpin with a field of cars bearing down on it, then a car whose hood popped up on the far high speed sweeper, then cars throwing up clouds of dust as they are forced off the course in the narrow front side chicanes. My mind couldn't grasp all the insanity.

Some months previously Joe, my youngest brother, had sent me a link to a video article on the first 24 Hours Of Lemons. It looked like great fun. Yes I wanted to do it. Yes really. Yes enough to help fund a car. I knew better than to think this was one of the half-ass schemes Joe would lose interest in. His history demonstrates the crazier the scheme, the more likely Joe will follow through to the end. Later he finds an '86 Toyota MR-2 on Craigslist in his town, Medford Oregon. Doesn't run. Blown head gasket. No fifth gear. $250. Silver. Sounds perfect. A week before the race the car is running well, roll cage is in, and I scramble to get a helmet ordered in time.

Friday I take a day off and drive from Salt Lake to some burg south of Sacramento and meet Joe and the rest of the team. Randall, Joe's ex's sister's boyfriend, is the rest of the team. Randall is a contractor, has a tool trailer that fits the car, welders, generator, and a bunch of other tools that prove essential. He also is a great mechanic and driver. Our mandatory fourth driver was fictional.

Here is some one's in-car footage, Joe's photos, my photos, what happens when you bring a $30000 car to a $500 car race, a good video...

[to be continued...]
(Part 2)

*Yellow flag means there is a hazard on the course, go slow, and no passing allowed.

**Green flag means "GAME ON!" Start/resume racing.

Red flag means stop on the course while wreckage is cleared.

Black flag is for a driver to enter the pits for a penalty.