Aviation Eye Candy

If you haven't been there, you really should check out xplanes. I don't have any penetrating insights here, besides the fact that the these folks were insane! Hey, isn't that the plane that the six million dollar man crashed in the second and third picture from top?

Be sure to check out the tag "nobody died." You gotta go one way or another! Unless of course, you are Steve Austin.

Surfing into the Future

Surfboards are an ancient design. Nobody knows for sure when pacific islanders first started riding logs in the waves, but it was a while ago. And the recipe has been fairly consistent. Sure there have been variations in nose and tail shape, and various fin configurations, but that basic canoe-shaped slab with convex sides that the ancient Hawaiians invented has held up pretty well.

One of the things I love about surfboards is that they are still largely made by hand, one at a time, by skilled artisan builders. These designer/builders are largely guided by their eye and guesses supported by their experience on the water. So I was really excited to see Thomas Meyerhoffer's work on designboom. (Check out this article in the NYT as well.)

Here is a guy who has worked as a designer at Porsche and Apple, taking a crack at this ancient archetype. This is a classic form as function problem, approached by someone who is clearly facile in both areas. The breakthrough of his design comes from dividing the surfing experience up into two parts; tail riding and nose riding. By redefining the problem, he can see answers that nobody (that we know of) has thought of before. And people have been working on it for a while.

Clients sometimes balk when I suggest that a naive but inquisitive outsider can often see things that established experts miss. Surfing experts know what the acceptable range of surfboard shapes are. A naive outsider can create something unique, and sometimes groundbreaking, because they don't know any better.

Here's Thomas talking about the design in his own words.

The Gift of Speed

Who is the luckiest husband on earth?  It is, in fact, me.  For my fortieth birthday, my wife, Rebecca, gave me a 3 day driving school at Jim Russel Racing School.  This is not messing around in some hopped up mustings.  This one is in open wheeled, carbon fiber, full ground effects, turbocharged mitsubishi powered F3 cars.  Well, they're not really F3 cars because F3 cars are not this powerful.  Seriously!

A series of "life events" involving, among other things, serious bodily injury and death, kept me away from my gift for over a year.  But earlier this week it came to pass.  I spent 3 whole days driving this astounding beast.

I was scheduled to take the class a month ago, but the cars were getting worked on, so the school gave me and a friend a karting class, as a thank you for being patient.  Karting scared the crap out of me (and my friend!).  I think its the rear-only brakes that make the car go nuts when you lock them up.  I thought, "good lord, the formula cars are going to be undrivable."  I'm here to report, they are not undrivable.  Far from it.

Not that its easy.  First I had to fit my generously proportioned 6'2" frame into the thing.  My shoulders were squished together.  The pedals were adjusted as far out as possible, and they were close.  They took out the "seat" and threw in a 1' thick foam pad.  I was unable to buckle my own seatbelt, because there was no place for my elbows to go.  There is a safety collar that is supposed to support your helmet in a crash--but we didn't need it because my shoulders were doing that.  I was the only one who came in after each session with his helmet covered in bugs and bits of tire.  It was because I was sticking out of the car about 8 inches higher than anyone else!

Then we drove.  The clutch has about 1/2" of engagement, and first gear is about the same ratio as 3rd in a street car.  So suffice to say, there was some stalling.  Ok, a lot of stalling.  The straight cut gears in the transmission do not require the clutch, just a firm hand and excellent timing.  "CLACK!!!" And the motor is insane!  In race trim its over 300hp.  In driving school trim, its about 225hp--the same as an F3 car.  Perfect for beginners!

One of the first things you discover as you drive a car that has the power to weight ratio of a Mini with a Dodge Viper motor in it is that you can spin it with the throttle.  I don't mean you can overcook a corner with the throttle.  I mean you can just about spin it in a straight line, at most any speed, by stomping on the gas.  But even more amazing are the brakes.  This thing goes from 120+ mph in the straights, down to 45 for a hairpin in a few car lengths.  Don't forget those downshifts!

I used to think I knew something about driving cars fast.  My Dad taught me to drive fast as a teenager.  We lived in the country, so there were plenty of twisty roads to practice on.  In fact, I had learned and developed all kinds of bad habits from driving cars far from their actual limits.  You drive the Jim Russel car badly near its limits, and it lets you know in no uncertain terms!  More specifically, I use way too much steering input, because I don't focus on my braking into the corner to set up the car.  Then I manhandle it with too much gas too early in the corner.  Or should I say I USED to do those things.  The last 3 days have taught me more about vehicle dynamics than the last 25 years.  Huge thanks to Nico and Jeff, our patient, methodical instructors.  By the end of the class, I was actually pushing the car safely, with a tolerable level of fear, and deep, transcendent, indescribable feeling of joy.  Driving in a street car now feels like traveling on a barge.

Because its there, I guess...

Why would someone want to break the world free-diving record?  Its an exercise in self abuse.   But I guess that's true of so many feats humans are tempted to undertake.  Riding the Tour de France, climbing Everest and sailing non-stop single-handed circumnavigations are all tough rows to hoe.  But there is something about free-diving that is so immediate.  You are choosing to just about kill yourself with asphyxiation.  Now that's commitment!

But when I watched this, I was mesmerized by the beauty of his form and rhythm.  He looks like a creature that has been molded into a super-swimmer by eons of steady evolutionary pressure, like a sea turtle or a seal.

And then when he reaches the surface--is he about to pass out?  Is he partially passed out already?  Look at how long it takes him to get the energy up to wave his fist in the air.  

Its absolutely impossible, unless you crochet...

Feminine handicraft, euclid and relativity.  Who would have guessed that these things reinforce, even explain one another?  I remember learning about hyperbolic geometry in high school.  But I didn't really understand it. I guess I shouldn't beat myself up about it because a century was spent trying to explain how it was impossible to model.  

Then in 1997 a mathematician at Cornell, Dr. Daina Taimina figured out how to model it by crochet.  And it turns out that models of hyperbolic structures were everywhere, from sea slugs to lettuce leaves.

"We live in a society that completely tends to valorize symbolic forms of representation, algebraic representations, equations, codes...but through this sort of modality...plastic forms of play, people can be engaged with the most abstract, high powered, theoretical ideas.  The kind of ideas that normally you have to go to university to study in higher mathematics...but you can do it through playing with material objects."

I don't know what else there is to say.  Lets play.

Big Daddy Rides Again

Ed "Big Daddy" Roth is my hero.  He was the most outrageous, vulgar, extreme, ridiculous and unprecedented automobile designer of all time.  Harley Earl was inspired by the Jet Age.  Roth was all about monstrosity, in every sense of the word.  He wanted to shock and maybe even scare you. 

But what I always loved about Ed, was that he figured out how to make the most with what he had--and he never had much.  GM made history by building the first mass production fiberglass sports car, the Corvette, in 1953.  By 1957 Roth was building fiberglass cars in his paint shop in LA.  He would take a chassis, pile on plaster and shave it away until it was shaped like the car he wanted to make, and take molds for the fiberglass body off of that.  When he built his first bubble car, he made the plexiglas bubble in a pizza oven.  He invented metalic paint by grinding up fish scales, and mixing them in.  Roth was a visionary, but he only cared about craft as a means to an end.  He didn't fetishize the process of building.  And his cars often broke just from the wear and tear of getting them on and off the trailer on the show circuit.

The video above is a recent homage to Roth called the Atomic Punk.  It has all the stylistic earmarks of a Roth classic.  But it was lovingly crafted from vintage GM body parts and hand formed sheetmetal.  Its not thrown together by any stretch of the imagination.  It was built by someone who definitely has a fetish for craft.  And I like that too.

By the way, one of Roth's masterpieces was recently discovered in Tijauna. The Orbitron featured an array of red, green and blue headlights that were focused together to create white.  It was the kind of hair brained scheme that only he could turn into a car.  The recently discovered Orbitron had been used as a trash bin for an adult book store, before some devoted Roth-ite snatched it up.  I hope they have a friend with a pizza oven.

What ISN'T a series of tubes?

I remember going with my Mom to drive through banks in the '70s where you put your checks and other paperwork in them, and yelled at the teller through an intercom.  I remember in High School, my Dad used to take me clothes shopping at  Seafair, the former Georgia Pacific company store in Fort Bragg, California.  Seafair was a sort of department store that sold mostly western wear.  While I dreaded our visits from a fashion perspective, I was always fascinated by the awesome network of pneumatic tubes that sent cash and receipts from the various departments to the gilded cage in the center of the store, where they kept track of the money.

Here's a Pecha Kucha style slide show about the history of pneumatic tubes as a communication and delivery device.  In our world of instant media gratification and endless possibilities, its hard to imagine how remarkable and game changing this kind of technology must have been in the 19th century.  And I love the metaphor of the "desktop" pneumatic tube technology creating pneumatic tube intranets within companies and institutions.

What were the social implications of pneumatic tube technology?  Did people send each other LOL messages?  Was there pneumatic spam?  Did anyone get a pneumatic tube from a Nigerian prince who was happy to share his fortune if you could spot him a few bucks?