Right before Mothers’ Day my Mother Board died

My usual morning ritual on waking is to turn on the computer and allow it to warm up while I make coffee. Then while the coffee is brewing I check my emails, the weather, and see what is going on in the world.

Last Tuesday I awoke, stumbled into my office, pushed the start button on my PC, and…. Nothing happened, no friendly blue light, not a sound. I had to sit around until 9 am. That’s when my local computer fix-it guy opens up for business. He told me he was swamped with work, and couldn’t even look at my machine until the end of the week.

That’s okay, I thought. There is plenty of other things need doing around the house, and the weather is nice, I might even ride my bike. You see I didn’t want to rush out and buy a new computer, if it was going to be a simple fix like a new switch, or something.

No such luck. Friday afternoon the fix-it guy called to say my Mother Board had died. I’m not even sure what a Mother Board is, but I had to take the expert’s word that nothing will compute without it, and it would cost more than a whole new machine to replace this Mother.

So now it was computer shopping time, this was going to be fun. The first thing I noticed was where there was once rows and rows of PCs, now there is just one little shelf in a corner. It’s all lap tops, and tablets now, but I just bought a beautiful large screen monitor a couple of months ago, (Great for watching bike races.) so I just needed the “Tower” part.

Then came the realization that all the new computers come with Windows 8. I had heard a lot about Windows 8, most of it not good.

“Can’t I just use, Windows 7? It does everything I need to do.”

I was told no. “Okay, can you show me what it does?” Where upon the salesman started to make all these different things happen with lightning speed.

“Wait… I’m never going to remember all this by the time I get home. Does it come with instructions?”

“No, there are no instructions, but I can sell you a tutorial disc for twenty dollars.”

Here’s a tip. Don’t buy the tutorial, it gives you stupid little tasks to perform, and if you don’t perform then you can’t continue to the next stage. The tutorial is almost as hard to operate as Window 8 itself.

Where there used to be buttons that I would click on to do something, now I have to then play “Hunt the button.” These magically appear when I hover the curser in the corners of the screen.

When I turn on the PC, I see a page with the time in large letters; I have a number of clocks in my home I don't need the time. I discovered, quite by accident, that I click anywhere on this page for it to disappear and reveal the "Log-in" box. The opening Clock screen is completely superfluous.

One of the first things I did was try to download the software that I use to build and maintain my web sites. I placed the disc in the tray and nothing happened. So I got on the phone to Microsoft tech support to ask how to download this program I needed.

After a long session with an automated voice system, I finally got a real person who passed me on to another person who then passed me on to yet another person. Then I was told that a tech person would call me back, probably on Monday. (This was Saturday.) Then came the kicker… This would cost me $250 to speak to their tech person. I refused their offer of service at this outrageous price.

Instead I Googled. “How do you open a disc in Windows 8?” I got my answer. When you put the disc in and close the tray, a tiny, almost transparent, box appears in the top right corner of the screen. It only stays in view for a few seconds, then disappears. If you are not looking for it you don’t even see it.

You click on this box and another box appears and asks what you want to do, one of the options being “Run.” I ran the software and the program was up and running in about five minutes. A lot less time than I had spent on the phone with Microsoft.

The problem as I see it, the people who design these programs have become way too clever for their own good. And just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. The people who designed Windows 8 lost sight of the fact that for most people the computer is a tool to get work done, it is not a fucking video game.

There was nothing wrong with the old system when you put a disc in the tray, a window opened in the middle of your screen that said “Run” or “Play.” What ever happened to the old adage of “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Microsoft’s motto seems to be, “If it ain’t broke, work on it until it is.”

Please excuse the rant, but I needed to get this out of my system before I can settle down to serious writing. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. I have just been hired by Answers.com as an “Expert” writer on Cycling. (See the badge in the right hand column.) They want a minimum of 10 articles a month, and I have just lost a week because of this problem, and it could take me another week just to find my way around Windows 8.

                           

Just go away

I wish Lance Armstrong would go away; I am tired of looking at his face. I’m even tired of being tired of looking at his face and reading about him…. At this point I hesitate because here I am writing more about LA, adding to the shit pile, so to speak.

But I always find writing is great therapy; better to write the shit out, than to hold it in. To hold it in is emotional constipation. So this is simply an exercise to release my own frustrations, and possibly you will release some of your frustrations with a comment at the end.

I am frustrated with people who still say, “Lance doped in an era when everyone doped, therefore it was okay, and the playing field was level.” It is not okay. If the old cliché, “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” has any truth to it, then everybody and his brother doping sure as Hell doesn’t make that right.

It means that anyone arriving new to the professional ranks has two choices. Take dope, not necessarily to win, but to keep from being shot out of the back of the peloton. The other choice is, not participate, and don’t become a professional cyclist.

In my teen years and early twenties I had dreams of one day being a professional cyclist. I made it to the top as a Category One amateur, it never entered my head to dope, and I never knew any other amateurs who doped.

It later became clear to me that I was never going to make it to the professional ranks; I simply did not have what it took. Also at the time, the mid to late 1960s, if I was really serious about a pro career I would have to move to France or Belgium, and that was not going to happen; I was married and had a family to support.

I continued to race for the competition, for the exercise, but mainly for the pure fun of it. There was always a great sense of friendship and camaraderie among British riders. There was always a great deal of humorous banter, and light hearted ribbing and joking going on in “The Bunch.” We never called it a Peloton; that was a French word reserved for races like the Tour de France. Not amateur races limited to 40 riders held on English country lanes.  

Because the races were held on open roads with normal motor traffic, each rider looked out for everyone else; shouting out a warning if the was a car approaching, etc. No one made any dangerous moves that would jeopardize the safety of other. If they did they would be ostracized by the other riders.

There was an occasion when my chain came off during a race, and two other riders, complete strangers to me, grabbed my jersey and towed me along while I reached down and put my chain back on the chainring. Those riders knew if I were dropped from the bunch for something as stupid as an unshipped chain, my whole day would be ruined. Plus by being forced to stop in the middle of a bunch. I could have caused a pile up.

When I arrived in the US in 1979, the racing was no longer on open roads with real hills to climb, but were Criteriums, races round a city block that had been closed to traffic. A lung bursting sprint, 100 yards down a city street, then brake, followed by another sprint. I was now in my early 40s and this was not for me.

Also gone was the sense of camaraderie and looking out for each other, instead there was a nasty, mean-spirited competiveness. People making downright dangerous moves in an attempt to win at all costs.

Worst of all guys were openly snorting cocaine before the race; I mean passing it around on the start line. I was no slouch, but there were guys riding touring bikes with pannier racks and fenders riding past me in the finishing sprint. I quit because racing was no longer any fun.

Some of these races were piddling little club races with no prizes, which in my book made winning at all costs even more pathetic. I would never race as a veteran; you can be sure there are those out there using Testosterone, and Human Growth Hormones, because these can be readily prescribed by any family doctor.

In any race, or in any sport for that matter, there are only a handful of competitors capable of winning; the rest make up the field, and without them there would be no race, or no game. There would be no Tour de France if there were only 20 top riders, there has to be a field of 150 riders for the top 20 to emerge from.

Back in Roman times, Gladiators fought to the death. Fun for the spectators; not so much for the competitors. Modern sports are combat without killing, or war without tears. Sports should teach children that life is a struggle, and it takes hard work and dedication to get ahead. But you can still have fun doing it.

It should also teach children about fair play; it is not okay to cheat, or bully your way to the top, with a win at all costs attitude. People who do that in real life are called “Assholes.”

Right now Lance Armstrong is King of the Assholes, and people who say what he did is okay are saying it is alright to be an asshole. Thanks for allowing me to vent.

                        

Blogging, Bikes and Bullshit

Having a blog is in many ways like having a child. Conceiving it is the fun part; it can make you proud and bring a great deal of satisfaction. But as it grows you realize the hungry little bastard needs feeding all the time.

It is not that I have lost my desire to write here (Far from it.) it is that I am finding it increasingly difficult to find suitable subject matter to write about. I started this blog in the fall of 2005; that is seven years which is a long time as blogs go.

I have covered just about every technical aspect of the bicycle I can think of. One of the reasons I want to keep the blog going is because between 1,500 and 2,000 people come here every day to find the answer to some question about cycling or the bicycle.

Those who know me know that I hate bull shit, and there are mountains of bull shit spoken and written about the bicycle. The bicycle is such a simple machine, you push one pedal down and the other one comes up. How can you get over technical about something so simple? The modern bike with its sealed bearings, limited sizes, etc., has further simplified it.

Cycling is a joy; or at least it should be. However, it is not like golf, where you have a set of golf clubs in the garage and on occasions pull them out and go knock a ball around a golf course. Even if you play badly you will still get some measure of satisfaction.

If you own a bicycle, especially a road bike and you pull it out only once in a while; there will be no pleasure, just a whole lot of pain and suffering. Your arse will hurt, your back will hurt, and who knows what else will hurt. Cycling requires a minimum of dedication to reach a level of fitness where it becomes a joy and a pleasure.

In order to take up cycling, you need a bicycle; that is obvious. The problem is many never get past the “Ownership” stage. They fall in love with this beautiful machine and buy it; but then never dedicate the time required to ride it.

It is the reason many of the bikes I built in the 1980s come up for sale on eBay in near new, mint condition. They have never been ridden. The pleasure is derived from “Look at me, on my $10,000 bike.” Which is pretty shallow, when compared to the real joy of actually riding the bike, and it becoming a life long passion and commitment.

This year my ex-apprentice Russ Denny built me a new welded steel frame, with a carbon front fork. It is one of the best bikes I have ever owned. One reason is that it was custom built for me, designed so that I can ride in a comfortable yet efficient riding position.

I recently offered to go to my local bike shop and talk to a group of their customers. What I had in mind was to take the custom ‘dave moulton’ bike that I built in the 1980s, (Just as a showpiece.) along with my new Fuso bike and talk about some of the advantages of such a bike.

When I didn’t hear back from the bike store after a few weeks, I checked again, and was told this particular store’s clientele would not be interested, because “Quote,” “If it ain’t carbon fiber they’re not interested, in fact if it has round tubes they are not interested.”   

What the fuck does the shape of the tubes have to do with cycling? This is what I mean about bull shit. It is all about owning the latest high tech bicycle, regardless of whether that bicycle is the one best suited to that rider’s needs.

These are adults behaving like school kids, afraid not to have the latest fashions lest they be ridiculed and bullied by their peers. God forbid anyone should show up on a club ride on anything but the latest in bicycles.

This is what happens when large corporations take over an industry as they have done with the bicycle business. They build in obsolescence.

For 100 years, bicycle frames had round steel tubes, 1 1/8^" down tube and seat tube, with a 1” top tube. It was good for at least 10 years before it became dated; longer if you updated the components.

Now you will be lucky if your bike will last two years. Not because it needs replacing, but because the style is outdated. Oh well…. That’s progress.

                       

Man exploiting man

Under capitalism man exploits man. Under socialism it's just the opposite

That is a joke. Not original, but never-the-less I found it funny and I posted it on a social media site yesterday. I thought it was fairly safe in that it pokes fun at both ends of the political spectrum.

But someone fired back,

“Um, no. I grew up in socialism. Had good education and access to health care at no extra cost.”

So this person did not find this funny because it seems in their view under the socialism end of things no one exploits anyone.

I usually steer clear of politics for the simple reason I am a Brit living in the USA. I am not a citizen (Even though I could be.) I am a Green Card carrying, resident alien, with permanent residency. Under this arrangement I get all the same rights a US citizen gets.

They allow me to have a driver’s license and own and drive a car, to own a home and pay taxes like everyone else. The two things I can’t do are vote or do jury duty; I can manage quite well without those responsibilities, thank you very much.

But because I can’t vote I feel strongly that I should not voice political opinions and try to influence other’s who do vote.

However, it annoys me when left wing eco-nuts assume that the bicycle is exclusively theirs; and on the other hand, there are those who think because I ride a bicycle I must be a left wing eco-nut.

The commenter on my “joke” stated that they grew up under socialism with free health care, sounds a lot like growing up in the UK in the post war years. I grew up in that same period and here is my take on it just from what I observed, and experienced.

Before WWII there was a (Capitalist.) class system in the UK where a small percentage of the population had all the wealth. (Sound familiar.) Most of this wealth had been handed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years. The rest of the population were subservient to the wealthy class, and relied on them for a job and a living. And in many cases rented a home from a wealthy landlord.

This system, with all its faults, had made Great Britain a world leader. This is pretty remarkable when you consider that Great Britain is less than the size of California. But over the years they built ships, sailed all over the world, taking over countries, taking commodities and raw materials at a cost of next to nothing.

This made the wealthy even wealthier. Britain manufactured a great deal of the goods that were shipped and sold all over the world. In my lifetime I remember when the world currency was based on the British Pound, not the US Dollar. As a kid five shillings, which was a quarter of a Pound, was called a “Dollar.” Because there were four US Dollars to the Pound. Today the Pound is worth about a buck-fifty. ($1.50.)

Under the class system anyone born into the working classes found it very hard to reach the top levels of management in a large company. The CEOs and captains of industry were all from the wealthy upper classes. The British education system was geared so that working class kids would be separated at age ten years old.

The bright kids would get a higher education and become the accountants and middle management in industry. The rest of the kids had the self esteem beaten out of them, physically or by verbal put down. This made them subservient laborers who would do a menial job without question, or become cannon fodder for the armies to go off and conquer more lands.

Everything changed when WWII ended. All the men who came home from the war had the attitude, “We laid our life on the line for our country, now we want a piece of the pie.” Clement Attlee the leader of the Socialist Labor Party was voted into power with a huge majority.

The Labor Government took over ownership by Nationalization of the steel industry, coal mining, and the railroads. They also created National Health Care, with free medicine and health care for everyone.

Of course nothing is free; it was to be paid for by increased taxes. Now the government owned the hospitals and they paid the doctors and dentists a flat rate according to the number of patients they had.

There is a standing joke in the US about the British and their bad teeth, which is a direct result of NH dentists giving poor care. What incentive is there to give good care, and do extras like clean peoples teeth when you won’t get paid more?

The other thing that happened was, there grew this huge government bureaucracy to manage the health care system; and before long there were more bureaucrats than doctors or nurses.

When the government took over the steel, coal, and railroad industries the trade unions in those industries flourished. Trade unions are good when they fight for worker’s rights and make sure they are not exploited or under paid. But if your boss is the government, and the government is a socialist government, they are on your side.

In the mid 1970s there was a Conservative government in power who were not sympathetic the coal miners union when they asked for more money. The coal miners went on strike, and without coal, no electricity. There was a huge stockpile of coal, but the railway union refused to move it.

The country went on a three day work week, and eventually the conservative government had to resign. A labor government was elected; the coal miners got their raise in pay and went back to work. By 1978 it seemed that everyone was on strike for more money.

Truck drivers were on strike and I couldn’t get deliveries of oxyacetylene to build my frames, I would go home and there would be no TV ‘cos the TV workers were on strike. When hospital workers who do laundry etc., went on strike and people died because doctors could not operate on them, it was the end of the line for me. It was then I decided to move to the United States.

I think many UK citizens felt as I did, because it was soon after that Maggie Thatcher and her conservative party got back in power. She de-nationalized much of the nationalized industries, and even privatized some of the hospitals. When the Labor Party got back in power in later years it was a much watered down socialism, more in line with the US Democrats.

Yes capitalists exploit their fellow man; that is blatantly obvious by the financial mess we are in now, but don’t tell me that socialists don’t  exploit their fellow man, when they go on strike and let people die so they can get a pay increase.

And when unions become so powerful they can bring down a democratically elected government, I call that exploiting your fellow man?

A person who fails to see the humor in that little joke at the top of the page, has lost the ability to laugh at themselves and their belief system. It may mean that they are extremist either to the left or right.

                         

Political Correctness

Texas A & M has an annual contest for the best definition of a contemporary expression. This year it was "political correctness." And here's the winner

"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end."

I hate Political correctness; it is a form of censorship. It makes people afraid to speak their mind, or to even mention certain subject matter.

Yesterday I wrote a piece which I intended to be a discussion around a podcast, “Are urban cyclists elitist snobs.”

In my view cyclists are a minority, and if a small element of our minority behaves badly, we all get smeared with the same shit stick.  

I was stupid enough to draw an analogy with other minority groups, namely people of color and gays. I should have known better, and I should not have even attempted to pick up that turd.

This morning there was a comment that suggested I was racist and anti-gay. My first reaction was to start composing a comment defending myself; then I thought fuck it, why should I have to defend myself against something that is entirely untrue?

I deleted the piece along with all comments. Maybe I acted a little hasty, but once I clicked “Delete” it was gone forever and there is no getting it back.

I may not have done the right thing, but I did the “Safe” thing. A suggestion like that can quickly grow legs and with the help social media I could lose my reputation overnight, and six years of writing here would be right down the toilet; all because of one little politically incorrect turd.