Tag Archives: impossible dreams

I’ve been having strange dreams

Strange but not disturbing dreams. Dreams about flying cars, cars I almost owned, dreams about flying bikes, dreams about just flying. Before the wreck I used to fly, things. Mostly airplanes, some hang gliders, some ultralights, a helicopter for about 5 seconds before I gave the stick back to the guy really flying it. Helicopters are not flying machines, they are contraptions that somehow remain airborne. And this was about how the dream went, flitting from one scene to another, taking in a red Honda Civic for an oil change, flying a car over a bridge to an island that was extremely urban with lots of tall buildings (not the red Honda, it was dark silver) I was just sitting in the car someone else was flying, just flying between the buildings of the city without the car no segue, just went from flying in the car to just me by myself without anything except some insulated jumpsuit and harness and maybe a helmet? Then I was flying a bicycle somehow that hovered while I was looking for a place to park, and was just a regular crank-forward bicycle when it wasn’t flying.

I woke up about 0445 because Mrs. the Poet was pushing me out of the bed. I should have taken a picture where she was in the bed when I got out. Her head was barely on her pillows and the rest of her body was angled towards my side of the bed so that her feet were almost sticking out of the covers on my side. I also woke up because my bladder was full, and standing over the toilet was almost like the scene in “A League of Their Own” where Tom Hanks drained the main vein for over a minute of screen time. Yay visuals!

Somehow we seem to have a pantry full of ants again, and we lost a full, new box of crackers to the pesky beasts. Not the small box, the “family size” box of Cheezeits that we had just bought and Mrs. the Poet didn’t get to eat even one of them. She was very mad about throwing away food we had just bought yesterday. She was hollering about the “stupiDANTS” and that was exactly how she pronounced it, with the “d” appended to the “ants” and emphasized “DANTS”, making it all one word. When I look at it from an emotional distance it’s funny, but I know it isn’t funny for her. “StupiDANTS!”

We have come to grips with the fact that the kittens have either died or just ran away. We last saw Clint in late July when he stopped coming back after we changed food in an attempt to do something about his digestive issues, and Clyde left a couple weeks later when Mrs. the Poet declared him “feline non grata” for his digestive issues leaving little poops everywhere and we had to move his food and water dishes outside. After we moved the dishes outside he refused to come back in for petting, even though he really wanted to be petted. So we are looking for another cat, older and calmer that doesn’t scratch the furniture that has its shots and already neutered. Mrs. the Poet says this time we need to start with all new cat stuff, not leftover from 2 previous generations of cats. She thinks this might result in a cat that’s more comfortable with where it lives and doesn’t need to mark everything as “mine”.

Got started on one resolution, already broke another

Good news first, I went for a walk to refill my anti-depressant prescription, so 2 miles exercise today.

Now the bad news, I didn’t delete Twitter. I even read some tweets from Cheeto Jesus while I was warming up in the Starbucks waiting for my meds to get refilled. Damnit, I managed to survive the Reagan Era without turning into a cloud of radioactive dust, I’m not going to let a tanner-addicted con man end my days in a brilliant flash followed by a lingering radiation poisoning death. Downtown Dallas ain’t all that far from Casa de El Poeta, and word is Rocket Man used to be a “Dallas” TV show junky, “Who Shot JR” and everything. In fact I’m about equidistant from Downtown Dallas and Southfork Ranch, off to one side. Back to the subject, Dallas is pretty sure to get one high-yield airburst with a return address of Pyongyang, PROK on the case. I would rather that exchange never take place. So Cheeto Jesus needs to stop playing dick-measuring games with the other insane Great Leader with his finger on The Button.

On a brighter note I have been redoing the designs of the TGS2 and Sprint-T and consolidating the design parts around the body, as they can be the same and not negatively affect the design. While I’m concerned I might not be able to get in and out of either design without a strength and flexibility training routine, I’m still plugging along with the design work, because to quit is to abandon all hope. I’m not giving up, I’m just concerned I won’t have time to finish the car before I can’t drive it.

On that design, I figured out how to get the cage around the driver capsule rigid on all 6 faces, and able to get the body in and out of the finished frame without having to cut any of it. Some parts of the frame are going to have to be bolt-on with either a few Honking Huge bolts, or a mad passel of smaller bolts. Basically all the major loads of the frame are passing through those bolts, so there either needs to be many spreading the load, or single bolts capable of transmitting the loads at single points of failure. My instincts are to use multiple bolts all sized to be strong enough but arranged so that even without getting torqued tight they will support the load, at least two and sometimes three per joint.

Making the frame rigid all the way around the driver capsule required getting out of the box, looking at the ends and figuring out how to close them from the inside. Literally, the hard parts were the front and rear, making them rigid while allowing drivetrain to run through both ends. Leaving a hole in the top for the driver to get in without letting that face of the box collapse and in the bottom for servicing the drivetrain bits that share the cabin was simple by comparison.

And I have been up too long and really need to hit the sheets.