Obsolescence
8/31/2014
That’s the date on my laptop’s shipping box. I discarded it yesterday. The box, I mean. Cut it up and tossed it in recycle. The box, I mean.
Looking at that shipping date, my personal laptop is almost ten years old. Although state of art when purchased, it’s now considered a weary old piece. I should replace it but I don’t wanna. One, I’m used to its foibles. Two, it does everything which I need done. Three, waste. This machine works and I’d be forced to get rid of it and its materials, adding to the piles of consumer trash.
I don’t wanna do that. That’s why I have five old computers waiting for disposal. One is a tower bought in 1998 that I haven’t used in years. One is an old personal laptop. Two are my wife’s old Macs of different vintages. One is an old business laptop which they told me to keep when I left the company.
Getting rid of them is on my list of things to do. Pull the hard drives. Find somewhere which will scavenge whatever they can for repurposing, and responsibly dispose of the rest.
I absolutely hate this cycle. My laptop’s software has been updated as far as I can take it with its current hardware. Microsoft provides the OS. Yes, I’ve used others but I succumb to convenience. Yeah, shame on me. I’ll research what MS needs for its next OS and see if I can update my hardware to keep it working.
Ten years is just too early to get rid of something. Just look at my cars. Both are ICE. One is nine years old with 48K; the other is twenty years and 108K. Both run fine although the newer one needs rear brake maintenance. But both look good, run well, and live in a garage, so I’ll keep on keeping on with them.
Just like my ‘puter.
A Dream Shard
Hearing something — can’t even saw what it was — today when I was in the coffee shop writing, I suddenly see a forgotten dream from last night. Really, just a shard. First person personal point of view, I’m driving in a car along a winding country highway. Leafy green trees blur by on either side. It sometimes seems like someone is with me but that’s inconsistent. I mostly seem to be alone.
Everything is going smoothly. I’m on a long road trip. Ahead is where I’m going to leave the country highway and jump onto the Interstate. The first road is climbing and turning. I split off. Cresting a ridge, the on-ramp veers left and goes down a steep hill and into intense banking as the ramp joins the Interstate and the Interstate goes left. Sunshine bathes the cars and roadway.
I won’t be on this road long, just a few miles. As I hit the banked curve and merge with the traffic, I press the brake pedal and recognize, I’m not slowing. Speed picks up despite greater pressure on the pedal. I announce, “I don’t have any brakes.” Someone in the other seat replies, “What?”
I repeat what I said and lean their way. But no one occupies the seat. I mutter, “I’m not on the road long. My exit is just ahead.” I can see it, a long, lean hill that ends at an intersection with a traffic light. “But I’m going to need to stop. I’ll add some brake fluid when I can. I think that’ll fix it. First, though, I need to stop.”
The car hits the exit ramp. It’s flying over bumps. Grinning, beginning to laugh, I kick out the floorboard. “Just do it like Fred Flintstone.” I put my feet down onto the cement road. Pressing the soles down with all my strength, I drag the car to a stop.
Dream end.
A Dino Ferrari Dream
Young, probably in my twenties in this dream, I was outside with my wife and some friends. Sunshine bathed us in what felt like a warm, beautiful day.
An unknown and unseen man was telling me that he had a car for me. Excitement growing, I laughed and joked about what kind of car this guy was giving me when I looked across the way and saw the front end and passenger compartment of a red Dino Ferrari 246 GTS.
Gasping, I asked, “Is that the car?”
See, the Dino 246 (pictured in photos) was released in 1969. I was thirteen and had discovered sports car and Formula 1 racing. When the car came out, I found it stunning. Even better, a few years later, the 246 GTS was released. This was a targa version of the same car. I’m embarrassed to admit how much I studied and drooled over photos of this car. Eventually, a plastic model was purchased and put together, and the model found space on my bedroom shelves.
But the unseen man said, “No, that’s not it.”
Disappointment staggered me. Then he indicated a black 246 GTS sitting elsewhere. “That’s your car.”
Ecstasy fluttered through me as I goggled at the gleaming black gem of machinery. The man was explaining, “It’s not a 246, but an Evo.” Even as he spoke, I saw the flares that marked the Evo. Evos privately reworked Dinos with upgraded engines and mechanical gear, and not a targa, but a fixed top.
I couldn’t believe that this beautiful car was to be mine. I asked about it a dozen different ways and the man repeatedly assured me, “That’s your car.” Most of the rest of the dream was spent riding around in the car with my wife, showing it off to people and explaining what it was.
But then came a moment when I’d parked the car and found a man with a petrol hose in his hand standing by it. Going to him, I questioned him and discovered that he planned to dose the car with gasoline and set it on fire. I firmly told him, “You are not setting my car on fire.” My voice and words were enough to send him hustling and stumbling away. I then had to explain to others who came up what had transpired as the man with the hose watched from a distance. Seeing him watching, I thought, I’m taking my car and leaving.
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
This morning delivered light serendipity.
Waiting to turn, he was behind a silver third generation Toyota Prius and a current series Dodge Ram pickup, also in silver. Both turned left, and he did the same.
As the three accelerated down the boulevard, he checked the oncoming traffic: a silver third generation Toyota Prius, and a current series silver Dodge Ram pickup. From his angle, the two pairs of vehicles were identical.
He laughed as the cars and trucks passed each other, wondering if their drivers noticed what he was seeing and about the odds for this happening.
It would have been really freaky if a car like mine was behind the other two doppelvehicles coming my way, especially if the driver looked like me.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: energetic
Hallo, fellow earthlings. Greetings from Ashlandia, where the sun is shining, and the inhabitants are spirited.
Today is Thursday, October 5, 2023.
It’s started out at 52 F this morning. Sunshine lit the bedroom with a golden haze.
Wasn’t so nice in the rest of the house, where it was dark, even a little gloomy. Mountains and trees hid the sun until the Earth and sun moved enough to bring the sunshine over the obstructions.
60 F is now on display on the thermometer. Autumn colors have crept into my windows’ views. Sunshine blazes across the colors, sparking stunning vividness in the scarletts, golds, yellows, and greens. A madcap blue sky lids it with perfection. Today’s high will be 86 F.
I think Indian summer may have arrived.
Our beer group met last night. Under fading sunlight and the mountain’s long shadows, a light breeze carried an air temperature of 69 F. Lovely setting for having a beer and chatting with friends. We had a good turnout of twelve people. One member, Mark, has his younger brother in for a visit. Those two joined forces with two other members to build a pergola in Mark’s backyard. Tales of mistakes made and corrected were shared for some of our time until discussion about the vacated House Speaker position.
From there, we strangely pivoted to cars. “What car that you owned would you like to have back?” one member queried us. 1960s muscle cars were mentioned by many. A pickup truck was thrown in. I would opt for my orange 1974 Porsche 914. My wife and I had much fun in that car, tooling around San Antonio and the local Texas countryside, targa top off, sunshine soaking us. Conversation then shifted to rock concerts people had attended.
Eavesdropping on the conversation, Les Neurons began playing Bob Seger singing “Fire Lake” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fallacious). This mellow 1980 song has such a throwback feel that brackets a story-telling mode, ending with a philosophical question, “Who wants to go to Fire Lake?” With Bob Seger’s throaty whiskey delivery, it’s a pleasant song to have in the MMMS.
Stay positive, be strong, and keep your head in the clouds and keep reaching for the stars. Coffee is being consumed. Time for the day to be embraced. Here’s the music. Cheers
Driving With Dad Dream
Another slice of the nocturnal mind’s workings to share.
To begin, I’m with my father. Each of us are similar to our real life appearances but I think we both were a little younger.
I’m getting an award. I don’t know what it’s for. Dad wants to attend. He tells me, “We’ll go together. We’ll drive there.”
He gestures toward a car. A silver behemoth, it may have been manufactured in the 1930s and features a long wheelbase — think of a large SUV here — running boards, an upright radiator, and spindly, narrow wheels and tires. Its condition is show-car perfect.
“What is that?” I ask. I see from looking around that he has other, more modern cars but still several decades old. All are well cared for. A graceful, polished gray model’s dazzling shine catches my eye from one.
In answer, he says, “You drive. We better get going. It doesn’t have a high top speed.”
I am floored. At that moment, two sisters arrive. They want to go with us.
Dad is against that. Telling them so, he finishes, “But I want you there. Take one of my other cars.”
A large steel garage door which was previously unnoticed grinds open. Behind it are modern sports and luxury cars. “Take one of those cars,” Dad says.
My sisters are already clamboring into a new red Mazda Miata. I say, “Why can’t we take one of those?”
Dad responds with non-sequitors. I interrupt him. “If you want to ride with me, why don’t we take one of those cars?” I see a BMW in the garage. “Like that blue BMW. Why don’t we take it?”
Evasive as before, Dad basically declares, “I want to take this car.”
We climb into his old car. I ask, “Is this a Bugatti?”
Dad doesn’t respond. Firing up the old machine, I keep looking for clues about what it is.
That’s where the dream ends.
I tote this dream down as another manifestation of unspoken worries and doubts about my life and where it’s at. Pretty standard stuff. Retired from corporate and military careers, I’ve staked a lot of time and hope on writing fiction. I’m driven to write, but will it go anywhere beyond my computer? Or, as the dream suggests to me, am I interested in trying another vehicle?
As I pass over the post again, though, the driving theme raises new questions. Writing = driving. Whether I want to or not, I need to go on. Some of my choices seem taken away from me by some deeper driving force within me.
Looking at it another way, though, I can point out, it’s a silver car I’m being forced into, a classic which is in good condition, and I’m driving off to collect an award. Looking at it that way, my subconscious is encouraging me to go with what I’m doing.
It’s amusing how these dream elements can be addressed. Even if I find success beyond writing for myself, I think that I’ll always be wrestling with the drive and need to write, and my doubts. Just part of my imposter syndrome surfacing again.
Automotive Issues
I had car problems this week. They look like they’re now resolved, but a comment by a friend reminded me of a surprising recent trend, at least locally.
Three friends all had cars with a cracked windshield this year: Ford, Subaru, Toyota. None knew how the windshields broke, they just noticed cracks which were getting bigger. For each, it meant getting the windshield replaced, which was a high price and lengthy time, especially for the Toyota. Windshields are infrequently just a glass piece these days. They often have electronics and sensors embedded in them, or they’re linked to systems. Replacement requires a special machine and a specially trained individual to take out the old and put in the new and connect and calibrate everything. The machine required to replace the Toyota windshield was broken and required specialized repairs, which took months. In the case of the Ford, the specialist was out for a few weeks for reasons unknown.
I remember the old days, when a guy came to our house and replaced the windshield in an hour in the garage. My, how times have changed.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Mood: focused
It’s Tuesday morning in Ashlandia, where the sky is blue and the trees are green. September 5, 2023, we’re teetering between summer and autumn here. 49 F upon rising, it’s now 58 F and heading for the low eighties. Trees haven’t begun turning yet but the air’s smell and feel seem shifted. Peaches are harvested from friends and neighbors’ places, and damn were they awesome. No cherries this year; didn’t work out weather-wise.
Had to drop off my car at the mech’s this morn. I’d had new pads, etc., installed in the rear, and the car developed this strange groaning. Took it back to the mech; they found a rock stuck in the caliper. That should fix it, no charge.
It didn’t.
So, I took it back and requested the mechanic drive around with me so he could hear it. He concluded it might be the bearings in the hub assembly. So they’re putting ears on the chassis, which sounds neat. They’re listening devices which can be isolated so you can define where the sound is originating. They’ll hopefully find and fix the cause today.
Anyway, that process forced me out of my rhythm. Had to have early AM coffee. Now I’m catching up. The Neurons are firing but have brought up “Beth” by KISS (1976) where it whirls around the morning mental music stream (Trademark outstanding). I’ve searched for reasons for the song and interrogated Les Neurons, but none of them will confess why they chose that song. Only thing that came to mind was that the singer is focused and struggling with a creative endeavor, suffering isolation and separation to achieve their end. I identify with that when I’m writing and my world focus draws in to go work on the book.
I’ll make it through. Hope you do, too. Stay pos, be strong, work it out. More coffee is due. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 