MR2 v. SEMI

The MR2 made it to a new level today. I was driving around the mountain of PUC (windy and steep with lots of hairpins) going to pick up some parts and stuff from a guy I met at this shop out in the boondocks of the valley. On this usually quite enjoyable (at least if you're driving an MR2 or similar handling car) road invites speed, control, and some awesome drifting potential. I currently have a broken speedometer, so I usually drive to the point where max RPM's and driver skill meet, somewhere in the 70's or 80's for this downhill jaunt. This day in particular am making the run in favorable time to meet the guy I met at this shop. We take case of the business at hand, and I head back up the hill I described above. I generally take it around 50 going uphill, but am not sure exactly how fast I was going today. I round the corners, drifting a little for fun, having a good time getting back into the groove of driving my car again. As one could imagine the layout of the road doesn't allow for much warning of on-coming traffic. I speed around the second hairpin (there's about 4) and instantly see danger. A semi. Not just a semi, but an oversized semi carrying some large tractor equipment or something. Will no time to spare as I am speeding around 50 MPH barreling up my lane as he is speeding wildly down the stretch brakes smoking with his front wheels turned so his entire axle is in my lane pointing back towards his lane. His trailer covering both lanes, with only mountain side and cliff for me choose from. With out conscious thought I disengage the clutch pull the e-brake put the shaft in reverse, release the e-brake and engage clutch. Squeaking, squealing, smoke everywhere, my poor little MR2 comes with in inches of the front left corner of the semi's massive bumper, it starts to roll back and the distance grows, but not enough. The semi is still speeding forward! Finally his front end clears my car and bring my car to a full stop. The semi continues to barrel down the hill as if nothing happened. Too bad someone wasn't secretly videotaping the whole scene...

DC City Tours: For the Hardcore

0800 on a Sunday morning, approximately 40 hours before the present time (this being the first time I've had enough energy to write about it since the escapade) I am chilling at the southend of the ellispe along with three other unnamed unhinged males. We check everything. Air. Brakes. Gears. Helmets. It seems, only the first is essential for enough of us. We roll out, two street bikes, two mountain bikes. The pack stays pretty tight through the first stretch down to the World War II memorial and up to the Lincoln Memorial. We loosen up at the route continues. We effectively coursed enough of DC and Virginia to overlap 80% or more of my previous 10 day tour in 8th grade. I flew by cars, humans, and other unmentioned objects/creatures that tried to come between our tires and the pavement. As it turns out the pack would breakup due to speed, endurance, and man's greater evil, the assumed order over chaos by constructing traffic lights. As it turns out, day walker's don't bother looking at the little red hand indicating imminent death, they instead process the speed of the approaching vehicles and make a mad dash across the pointless painted crosswalks. Go figure, biker's do it too. Miss calculations, lack of visiblity, or possibly blindness/deaf can raise the stakes this game of frogger. I find myself and one of the members a block and a half behind the group looking at the menacing red hand at 12 o' clock, a DC cop at 9 and a 5-way stop in the terrain that lay ahead. I'm ready to go for it, as I see a ped ignoring the fist of fire, but better judgment tells me the double standard probably won't do me any favors with this cop. The light changes, we cross, only to wait for the next one 90 degrees away. It's clear, the cops passed, and I roll out. One lane, two lanes, three--CAR! I jam both brakes simulateously into my shattered wrists. The wheels stop, but the bike doesn't. My back tire flies into the air above my head as I nearly lose not only my seat, but other attachments as the car races closer and closer to my floating body. Focus! FOCUS! I had tried a unicycle a couple times, but never really was able to balance. One tire frictioned to the hot asphalt, two hands glued to the brakes and handlebar, legs stopped mid-stride with converse covered feet pressed hard against clipless pedals. Everything stops. Except this bird, swooping by without a care in the world. The car squeals by, stopping way too late. My feet slide off in a flurry, getting my grip with earth back. I find my seat and pedal on A beautiful day for the 1.5 hour tour that lasted 4. A stop at the bagelry proved a worthy brunch.

Sleep is for the weak

Returning from West Virginia, sitting in the driver's seat of a silver WRX STI, I quickly remembered how an 87' MR2 differs. Speed in an 87' MR2 is felt as it increases as you become one with the car, the speedometer is no longer a measure, but the noise and acceleration express the sheer momentum. Speed in a WRX STI is not felt, as it must be measured by the rate at which the trees blur and how the motion of the law-abiding vehicles vanish into time creating halted obstacles on a four-lane highway. The absolute speed, turbo included, of the STI, while appealing, doesn't quite sell me out. I miss my MR2.

Extreme Storm Biking

Two street ready bikes. Two fearless riders. One set of working brakes. One set of working gear shifters. Surging rain, sheet lightning fills the sky, sweaty fog mystifies buildings is all directions. Thunder crackles and rolls as the rubber parts the puddles of building rivers. The GIMP bike, stopped by a single sandeled foot skiing through the quickly forming lagoons, manages to defeat the forces of nature and live to die another day. In future attempts of disregarding yields to facing brutal storms, perhaps goggles would be a nice addition.

A Summer in DC

I flew into BWI airport 10 days ago to begin my first internship and live with my brother for the summer. So far my job seems to keep me entertained and will prove to be busy I'm sure. Outside of work I'm quickly becoming accustomed to the hustle and bustle of city life after a year of living on a mountain in the Napa Valley. The food, in comparison is awesome. My sleep schedule, not surprisingly, is quite similar to my normal routine. Humidity and crazy hurricane thunderstorms throw an interesting twist into the weather. Overall I'm looking forward to a memorable experience this summer.