Driving Cross-Country — Vicariously

As a roadgeek and a fan of road books and movies, I’ve long thought it would be cool to drive cross-country. So I waited with interest above and beyond the parental variety for the daily phone calls from my oldest son as he drove from our home in southeastern Pennsylvania across the country — nearly — to central Arizona where he is enrolling a few days from now as a college freshman.

His driving partner was his roommate-to-be. They arrived at their final destination last night after a week on the road.

Here is their route, covering 2,499 miles according to Google Maps, as near as I can tell from my son’s reports:

View Larger Map

Their vehicle was my son’s 22-year old diesel sedan, packed to the gills, with 304,000+ miles on the odometer — that is, at the start of the trip. There were, as one would expect, concerns about the reliability of the car, but thankfully it didn’t give them any major trouble.

No major trouble, that is, except for the air conditioning, which gave out on the second day. That the A/C was leaking refrigerant was known before the trip. We didn’t expect it to last the whole trip. He charged it a few days before the trip, at my urging, with the hope and expectation it would last most of the trip. The eventual disappointment on that score made the trip much more of an endurance test — in my mind at least.

Would-be Windfall

Image by &y via Flickr

The July 9 issue of the Delaware Coast Press turned out to have a wealth of “blog fodder” — just what was needed to energize my moribund blog.

This, from that issue’s GRAPEVINE column, wherein DCP readers’ “comments and observations” are featured without attribution, is a real LOLer:

All my life, I have heard and read about the price of gas — per gallon. But it’s not the price for a whole gallon of gas, it’s for 9/10 of a gallon. You’re always cheated out of a 10th of every gallon of gas. Over your lifetime, that’s a lot of money these companies are making. Isn’t it time to get the federal government to get rid of that 10th and make them give us the full gallon?

This is like the parallel universe of gas consumption. A put-on? Probably. But very funny. Who would have thought the “9/10″ on gas station price signs is a fraction of a gallon rather than a fraction of a cent? The answer: the writer of this GRAPEVINE submission.

Unseconded My Notion

Mowing season is arriving in QC-country, so this past Sunday my car’s parking accommodations switched from the cushy garage to the exposed driveway.

I’ve always locked my car overnight when it’s parked in the driveway. We’ve lived here since 1992. There’s “Black Beauty” right there:

But to lock it I either have to

• use the key

or

• close the driver’s door, open the same-side passenger door and then reach in and push down the lock button on the driver’s door.

A puzzling design decision — them Swedes are, um, quirky.

Anyway it’s a bit of a pain. So for this mowing season I got the notion I would leave the car unlocked overnight. The car is 15 years old, I don’t keep anything of significant value in it, and the neighborhood is pretty safe.

Route 30 Gives My Head the Business

Last night Mrs. QC and I found ourselves on the way from Frazer, PA (Chee burger Chee burger) to Downingtown (Wegmans) via Lancaster Avenue, US 30. As we approached US 202, the Exton Bypass beckoned. If we wanted to stay on US 30, we would have to be seduced by the bypass’ call, for Lancaster Avenue becomes US 30 Business — “Business 30″ as we call it — at that point and remains so until the expressway ends past Parkesburg about 20 miles to the west.

The Exton bypass is the newest expressway in the Delaware Valley — it opened about 10 years ago — and I’ve only had occasion to drive on it maybe ten times even though it’s only five miles south of my home.

I haven’t done much expressway driving in our relatively new car, so I said, “Let’s take the bypass and I’ll open this baby up.”

As we cruised over the southern edge of Exton at the breakneck speed of 65 mph, I experienced the same disconnect I’ve experienced most other times I’ve driven on the bypass: The distance covered on the bypass seems much greater than that covered by Business 30.

Raining in Baskets

What a day brightener! Only minimal basketball knowledge is needed to enjoy this CBS Evening News clip (running time 2:45):

Thanks to my friend Pete S. for posting it on his Facebook profile.

An ESPN clip on McElway has more detail and the game footage is in color, but the cheesy music is distracting in my opinion — plus it’s twice as long as the one I’ve embedded. The detail I thought most interesting is that McElway actually missed not two but six shots. But that hardly detracts from his achievement.

I can imagine Tom McGinnis, the excitable Philadelphia 76ers radio play by play announcer, calling McElway’s hot streak. By McElway’s third three-pointer, you’d hear McGinnis’ trademark “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?”. The fifth would cause McGinnis’ head to explode — leaving you to deduce from the crowd reaction and buzzer that McElway hit a sixth to end the game.

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’tis the Season for Throw-Up Coats

Having previously treated readers to saliva nostalgia, here I one-up that with some reminiscing about vomit. Stop reading here if the mere thought of vomit makes you queasy.

As children my brother B. and I were required by our parents to wear wool coats to dress-up occasions — like visits to grandparents — during cold weather months.

B. suffered from motion sickness. The 75-minute drives to and from our maternal grandparents’ apartment allowed ample time for the sickness to kick in. I don’t know how many times — it seems like more than a few — dad would have to pull the car over to the shoulder so B. could hop out and vomit.

I remember one particular episode with spaghetti at a Sunoco gas station on the suburban side of Philadelphia’s City Avenue, aka “City Line”. Spaghetti was not the typical fare at my grandparents — the most common offerings were brisket and corned beef sandwiches (not in the same meal). As B showered the Sunoco tarmac, dad, mom, and I were impressed with the similarity of the vomited spaghetti’s appearance to that of the spaghetti served to us earlier in the evening.

Hard-pressed

I haven’t ever successfully used a mechanical pencil. I always press too hard. Always, always, always. When I put one to paper, within seconds … crack goes the graphite. Never fails.

I loathe mechanical pencils.

Macro photography of a thin graphite lead through the tip of a (ratchet-based) mechanical pencil. Image: Bob Ionescu

Furthermore, my mechanical aptitude is, um, rather lacking, as friends and family would attest. Somewhere down around the zero-th percentile.

Mrs. QC recently suggested a correlation exists between mechanical pencil proficiency and mechanical aptitude. I offer some anecdotal evidence to support this theory: The mechanical pencil user I recall most vividly from my childhood is a principal of an engineering software company (where I work). Boy, this guy was adept with mechanical pencils. He loved ‘em (like Dave here). Probably still does.

His four brothers are also principals of the company, and I’ll bet at least two of those four, the programmers, were mechanical pencil users as school students. Heck, all five probably were. It’s that engineering gene. Their dad was an engineer.

Organizations needing to test for mechanical aptitude can dispense with expensive aptitude tests. They should just give out a mechanical pencil and a piece of a paper to each person they’re testing and tell them to write. They may not be able to determine who has the engineering gene, but they will surely find out who — crack — does not.

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Big O-men: Not Speculation If I Foresee It

One of my favorite George Costanza lines from Seinfeld is “Jerry, just remember, it’s not a lie — if you believe it“.

With that in mind, I make the following statement, part fact and part speculation: Last night the Philadelphia Phillies won baseball’s World Series, bringing a major pro sports championship to Philly for the first time since 1983 and ensuring the election of Barack Obama, “The Big O”, as the next U.S. president.

In response to the last part, I imagine George looking at me earnestly and saying “QC, just remember, it’s not speculation — if you foresee it“.

Truthfully, I do predict victory for Obama — I’ll post specifics Sunday morning — but not as an effect of the Phillies’ winning the series. Rather, my prediction is based on polls showing Obama has leads — ample leads — in states totaling significantly more than the 270 electoral votes required to win.

A few related notes not worthy of separate posts …

• The game 5 suspension actually worked out pretty well for Phillies fans, particularly casual ones like myself. The spectators in Citizens Bank Park were able to watch the deciding game without getting (further) soaked. Those watching on TV here in the chronically sleep-deprived Eastern time zone, were able to see the final pitch at a decent hour, 10:00, at least an hour and a half earlier than they would have otherwise.
• The Phillies’ combined record for this playoff/series run of 11-3 was almost as gaudy as the 76ers 12-1 in 1983. Not too shabby. Based on this very limited sample size of two, there is a trend suggesting that when Philly teams win championships, they do it in dominating fashion.
• The continuation of game 5 was preceded on TV by what I’ll call “The Big O Show”, Obama’s exceptionally well-produced 30-minute infomercial. Admittedly I am an Obama supporter, but I must say I was moved by it. I expect it will stop and probably reverse his recent slow slide in the national “horse race” polls.

By the way, earlier today I appended an update two updates to my recent post about rapidly declining gasoline prices.

Photo credit: Flickr user alpineinc, used here in accordance with the terms of the Creative Commons license.

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Obama’s Fortunes Tied to Phillies’? (Updated!)

original version crossposted, with poll, as a diary at Daily Kos

“Cosmic” presidential election predictors, both sports-oriented and not, are often cited as elections approach. Depending on one’s candidate preference, these predictors serve either as reinforcement of or counterpoint to poll results.

The most famous sports-oriented predictor is based on the fortunes of the hometown pro football team for White House residents, the Washington Redskins. From the CBSNews.com article linked above:

If the Washington Redskins win their last home game before election, it means the incumbent party will get to stay in the White House.

This predictor’s long streak of accuracy, dating back to 1936, came to an end with the 2004 election.

I propose a one-time predictor for the pending election based on the results of baseball’s World Series — or as I annoyingly refer to it, the “world serious”. If this predictor turns out to be accurate, my pet name for baseball’s championship will be appropriate — or at least, less stupid.

With the resumption of World Series game 5 between the Philadelphia Phillies and the Tampa Bay Rays just an hour away, I suggest a Phillies championship, whether finalized in game 5, 6, or 7, would portend a Barack Obama victory.

Here’s why.

Lower I Say! Lower! (Updated 2x)

Gasoline prices have been in free-fall for weeks. This has become the usual pattern before an election. It’s even more pronounced this year. I recall a peak price in my neighborhood earlier this year of $4.13 per gallon. Yesterday, as I was out and about, the going price was $2.69. Today, who knows — maybe even lower.

I’ve long suspected Republicans, in particular the oil-soaked Bush administration, have significant influence on gas prices. Although I’m not offering supporting evidence, I contend falling gas prices before elections have worked to Republicans’ advantage in recent elections.

Conspiracy theories aside, the price decrease scenarios in the run-ups to those elections were different than what is happening now. As Andrew Leonard explained on Salon.com:

A worldwide economic slowdown is depressing demand and popping all kinds of commodity price bubbles. No conspiracy theory necessary. Recessionary winds are blowing out inflationary fires.