Oh, shit.

If I haven't already made you sit through my whole gun-rights opinion (oh, you'd know it if I had), you don't know that I believe in the right to posess, carry, and use handguns if it proves necessary.

But this is going a little far. Don't get me wrong, I know several people who might buy and use a pair of these pants. There's a reason I don't visit these people. They're generally a little trigger-happy, and I'd rather remain bullet-hole-free.

If you've never spent some time in the South, be it ranch country like Texas and parts of Colorado (yes, I know that's a geographical screw-up, but the culture's plenty similar), or the plantation country of the Deep South, then you don't know what I'm talking about.

Without getting into the "you can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers" speech, let me just point out that rifles and handguns are an integral part of America's collective culture. There's a reason Colt called it the Peacemaker.

Of course, we all know that guns (and the nutcases that own them), can contribute to some real old-fashioned hell-raising. We don't want that, now do we? And that's why the sort of people who would buy pants just so they can keep their Colt ready to kill with at a moments notice are probably the sort of people we really shouldn't be allowing to have a handgun.

But whether or not they have a screw loose is irrelevant. What really matters is the fact that even though it's a little dangerous for everyone involved, these people have a right to own their guns, and pants to carry them in.

1/1000 of a mile in 30 seconds

Sandboarding worked both better and worse than I expected. For a prototype made of skates, a shelf, and a couple of chunks of plywood, it exceeded expectations. I was pretty much the only one on the sand capable of going downhill for a distance. Trouble is, that trip downhill was always slower than just walking, and turning was impossible. I knew that sand had a higher friction coefficient than snow, but I didn't fully appreciate the difference.

I have come away from this experiment with many lessons and ideas for improvements in my design. For one thing, I would make the board much lighter. It was a bitch to carry until we fashioned a shoulder strap system. Lighter would also mean that there would be about 20 pounds less weight on the board/sand interface, meaning less friction.

The board needs to be much bigger, in fact. Preliminary calculations have shown that I would need 11 square feet of contact to get some serious speed, at least using wood. We can't make the board any longer, since then it won't fit in the trunk, so it needs to be wider. Almost three feet wide. That's not going to cut it, but it would be worth a try.

Also, sand is extremely abrasive. You knew that. I just spent four days sanding my sandboard with 80-grit the hard way, and it removed between three and five coats of latex paint (I know how many times we painted that shelf). This reinforces my descision not to use an actual snowboard, even the P.O.S. that I have, since it would have ruined it, and the odds of finding another $25 P.O.S. are slim to none. I want that board for snow. I was going to go to Wal-Mart and get some Teflon kitchen spray for the board, but further thought revealed that if steel spatulas scrape off non-stick on pans, the sand would make short work of the whole can of teflon spray. That idea was scrapped.

Steel plate seems like the logical idea, since it can be thin and strong, but the weight kinda worries me. It was suggested that we could attach a steel plate to the bottom of the wooden board and see what happens.

We knew that whatever we put on the bottom would get scratched to hell, so we had to come up with something durable and slippery. The possibility of custom-pouring a glass bottom onto a rigid steel board was tossed around. That would be hella fun, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. Our neighbors chuck enough empty bottles onto our lawn to more than make up for the glass requirement, though! If only they knew that I've been making glass nick-knacks out of them and selling 'em for a pretty penny, maybe they'd stop doing it. Nah!

Since there is always at least a 10mph prevailing wind at the Dunes, often faster, and quite a bit of flat land, I do believe that it would be an excellent place to kiteboard. That's basically kitesurfing, only on land in motorcycle gear. Falling sucks, and will rip you up! I'm tossing around the idea of putting footstraps (not boots, straps) on a board and attaching large tires. Balloon tires. The Sand Dunes Visitor Center has two sand wheelchairs. Brilliant inventions. They have huge soft rubber tires, easily two feet in diameter and eight inches across. Turns out they only take two to four pounds of pressure, and that they had to get a special pressure guage in order to be able to check them, which they got from an ATV supply store. I'm pretty sure that ATVs use inner tubes, and if so, I would be using an inner tube as the outer tires on my kiteboard. I'm a bit worried about puncture-resistance, though. Does anybody have experience on the subject? In fact, does anybody have experience with handling a power kite, or own a mountain board?

Even as it is, the sandboard was a people magnet. There's something about being both brilliant and batshit crazy that just draws people and questions. I love talking to people, even fielding questions about my various schemes. Really, don't avoid someone who's doing something that probably means they're a few grains short of a sandpile, ask 'em about it! Hot rodders may build cars because they love building cars, or driving their dream car, but we do love it when the person at the other gas pump strikes up a conversation. Whenever you invent something cool, it's nice to know you're not the only one who thinks it's cool. Or even just weird.

Listen up dumbass!

This is a public service announcement brought to you by Common Sense. If you are unfamiliar with Common Sense's portfolio, let me direct you to such stunning works as Run When You Hear Police Sirens, Get Underground When You Hear Tornado/Air-Raid Sirens, Come in Out of the Rain, Don't Smoke Near the Tanker Truck, and Stay Off Other People's Property After Dark Especially in Texas.

It has recently come to my attention that wrist injuries are by far the leading injury among snowboarders. I suppose this shouldn't suprise me, since experience has shown me that snowboarders are just as dumb as skateboarders, only snowboarders' brains are chilled, making them run even slower.

I really hate skateboarders. No, let me rephrase. I really hate skateboarders who think the ability to not fall off makes them better than anyone else. But they always forget that apparently the process of learning involved several sound smacks of the head on pavement when they calculate that opinion. Unforunately, that cooler-than-thou attitude prevails among them.

Of course, afficionados of one boardsport are likely to try and enjoy another, so it is only natural that that same keeping-up-with-the-Joneses-and-trying-to-out-dumbass-each-other crowd would be drawn to snowboarding, which is basically skateboarding, only different. Both cultures seem to love the idea of doing tricks, or as I like to call them, temporarily breaking up with the ground and then getting back together, only now she's pissed. I've skateboarded. I've snowboarded. They're not the same. Don't tell me they are.

Of course, when I say I've skateboarded, I mean to say that I have gotten one foot onto a skateboard, and sometimes two, before going some small distance and landing on my ass.

In both skateboarding and snowboarding, it is commonly considered cool to teach yourself. I think that's really just a great way to prove yourself to be a real world-class tool. Formal lessons? Fuck those. I'll just ride up this mountain strapped to a board which changes the physics of my body entirely, then discover that I have to come back down somehow. That somehow is probably by spending most of my time on my face, ass, or hands, and spending very little actually upright and in control.

Ever seen a car parked on a hill, but without the parking brake set? Seen it slowly take off and pick up speed down that hill, all the while being an unguided two-ton missle? Unlike in skateboarding, where you run out of hill, in snowboarding, the inexperienced boarder has basically made himself into the human version of that car. Trouble is, the car doesn't unexpectedly catch an edge and slam windsheild-first into the pavement. People do.

People who never learned to fall properly, which is an accurate desription for most participants in all land-based boardsports, will stick out their hands in front of them when falling. If they fall backwards, their stick their arms out behind them. No, no, NO!

I've done it couple of times. Precisely twice. Both times I failed to catch myself onto my wrists, for which I consider myself lucky, and instead injured my shoulder such that I couldn't even lift a glass with that hand for a couple of weeks. Every other time I've fallen, I've tucked my arms in. It's only when you're tired or uninformed that you will want to stcik a hand out. That will do one of two things: one, it will put a tremendous shock through your wrist and quite easily break it (give up that piano, guitar, drum, or video game career!), or two, it will act as a large lever and turn you into a human slot machine. It will wrench your shoulder back and leave you in too much pain to move, eyes rolled back in your head, making all sorts of strange and otherworldly noises, not to mention the new and creative string of obscenities you will suddenly find yourself employing. You've just hit the inconvenience jackpot!

It is everyone's natural instinct to stick a hand out when falling. I dohn't really know how this got naturally selected, since sticking a hand out never results in something good.

When you catch an edge snowboarding, it is like you have been tackled by a pro football defensive lineman who hates your guts. Really, try it when you're going down a slope at speeds otherwise only attainable in a car. Not gonna do that again, are ya?

But it happens again and again as you're learning, and as you traverse terrain you don't know, even as a hot-shit "expert." Especially icy spring slopes. But if you fall once onto your hand and once the proper way, you'll immediately learn what not to do. No more having to think about it. Trouble is, nobody seems to even know how to fall, let alone employ it.

Pull your damn hands in!

Now you got no excuse. You know what will happen if you keep falling the way you have been, and you know how to properly fall. Flailing about like an uninformed animal and breaking your wrist is not cool, and will not attract the ski bunnies.

Besides, they're already in the hot tub with me.

If you're in a hole...

...Stop digging. Don't get me wrong, I loved Boyd Coddington's taste(rest his soul) and thought he was a good, salt-of-the-earth man (ironic, no?), but this guy did everything ass-backwards when he went out to Bonneville.

For the past 40 years, there has been a mining operation going on near the Bonneville racecourses, where the miners collect the water runoff from the flats and direct it into huge setlling ponds, collecting potash from it. Then the salt would just sit there, when it should have been sitting out on the racecourses, building up a foot and a half thick. At one point, there were just a couple of inches of salt on the Flats. That's nowhere near enough to have Speed Week. That's the recipe for Stuck in the Mud Week.

Salt, when it has been wetted and allowed to dry, forms a surface very similar to concrete, or maybe plaster of paris. Anyone who went to Southmoor while they still had the Upper Field is familiar with this--it was dirt, but practically concrete. Out on the Slat Flats, though, the mud underneath the salt is frikkin' quicksand, just about. We can't have vehicles breaking through to that at five miles an hour, let alone 200.

Starting in 1997, Save the Salt was started; a program where the water from the holding tanks would be pumped back out over the Flats. In other words, they been repaving.

Of course, if rain hits right before Speed Week or the salt pumping hasn't deposited enough, the courses and the whole shebang have to be moved somewhere else.

You standin' on unstable ground, boy.

Here's the story of Boyd Coddington's visit in 2007, as published on the Bonneville website, http://www.saltflats.com/

_______________________________________

Back to USFRA Home Page


Bonneville can be a tough place.
As you may have heard, at SpeedWeek 2007, Boyd Coddington star of TV’s American Hotrod show had a very tough couple of days. Boyd and his wife Jo were running a beautiful roadster, hoping for a class record, with a full TVcrew recording their racing efforts. As you will read, things went from bad to much much worse for the Coddington crew.
Ron Christenson (long time USFRA volunteer) was working the Speedweek 2007 Event in his usual position as Radio Announcer on 1610 AM radio announcing the event. He captured these photos and this inside story from his ringside seat.

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Photos and Narrative by Ron Christensen

Thursday afternoon the Boyd Coddington race team, complete with a film crew for Speed TV's "American Hotrodder" was heading from the starting line to the 3- Mile after Jo Coddington (Boyd's wife) had just spun their roadster at about 180- MPH (and come really close to backing into the Timing Slips stand at great speed.) The motorhome headed for the return road just as it was supposed to do. Unfortunately it broke through the thin salt (the SpeedWeek tracks had to be relocated to a risky area after the rains a couple of weeks before the event). We normally wouldn't have been driving in this area as it is quite a distance east of the usual location of the track.

With the "American Hotrodder" film crew shooting away, the Coddington group tried to get the motorhome free but it had sunk in up to the axle and even with lots of digging it would not budge. So they called a tow truck to come and pull them out. The mood of the Coddington crew was sort of giddy . . . the seriousness of the predicament hadn't seem to have sunk in nearly as well as the motorhome had. They were all standing around laughing and drinking beers, having a great time.
Two vehicles (a very large wrecker and a flatbed) arrived about two hours later like the Lone Ranger and Tonto to the rescue . . . . The Coddington crew was certain it would be out of there in minutes and heading back to the casino in Wendover for dinner, gambling and more beers! Plans didn't quite work out as hoped as both rescue vehicles promptly got stuck not far from the motorhome. It should have been obvious that if the motorhome broke through, a big heavy wrecker didn't stand a chance. So there were now three stuck vehicles. The wrecker crews were heard to say something like "We'll just get 'Big Blue' in here . . . no problem!" More beers came out and the party continued.

At about 6:00 PM, I had to leave the salt about that time to go to the workers dinner at the Nugget and a party at an old friend's home in Wendover.
When I returned at about 10:30 p.m. to my radio trailer to spend the night I noticed there were lights in the area of the motorhome so I drove over there. Things had gone from bad to critical at the scene. The Coddington crew's mood had made a 180 degree change from when I left. They looked very sullen and an air of gloom hung over the group. I then surveyed the scene. "Big Blue" (the wrecker that would save the day) had arrived after I left and had been trying to pull the big yellow wrecker from the nice soft mud into which it had become so comfortable. The yellow wrecker which had been sitting so peacefully with the salt surface firmly against the undercarriage when I left was now at about a 40 degree angle with mud coming up about 6 feet to the door of the cab on the left side. It was wedged firmly into the landscape with its right side tires about a foot off the ground and about 100 feet of 4-foot deep trench indicating where Big Blue had dragged it in an attempt to free it from the clutches of the desert.

The dragging had only gotten it deeper into the mud. And to make matters even worse, Big Blue had gotten itself in about the same situation, sinking into the mud about 4 feet as it attempted to pull the yellow wrecker free. And in a last ditch effort to get the motorhome out it had managed to damage its boom winch and a tow cable was now stretched tight like a huge steel guitar string between it and the motorhome. The damaged winch would not release and they could not remove the cable. It was about 3 feet above the salt and about 1050 feet long which created quite a hazard. One of the Coddington crewmen had borrowed some orange cones from the race course return road to mark off the cable so no one would drive into it. Unfortunately one of their own crew drove their mini van right into it as he attempted to drive between the cones!

I struggled not to laugh at this comedy as it unfolded. Another pair of cables stretched between Big Blue and the yellow wrecker. Big Blue was sitting at an odd angle with its right rear wheels buried firmly in the mud. It looked a dog cleaning its backside on the carpet. Somehow they had managed to free the flatbed which they had backed in to try to free Big Blue and it too had become stuck again, this time much worse than before. The three rescue vehicles were in a nice tidy row, half buried and held in the firm grip of the clay-like mud that lies just below the surface of the salt. The scene resembled some sort of elephant hunt with three slain carcasses lying dead on the playa. The motorhome sat unmoved in the same spot it had found itself in when it started this fiasco, no doubt chuckling to itself at the mess it had created!

The muddied and sullen Coddington crew divided up and some of them stayed in the motorhome while another group left in the mini van with a fresh cable burn on its nose. It was pitch black out with no moon and they had no idea how to find their way back to the access road. I explained that they just needed to drive to the dike behind the starting line then follow it around until they encountered the row of cones that marked the route to the access road. I returned to my radio position at the starting line where I started to prepare the Cherokee Hotel for the night. I watched as the Coddington crew left in the mini van and drove past the starting lines then proceeded to head off in a northerly direction instead of following the dike to the west as I suggested. I could imagine them driving off into the darkness and getting stuck in the muddy area towards the mountains. A perfect end to their evening!

I decided to rescue them from another disaster and I chased them down in the Jeep then guided them to the coned route to the access road. They still had the water hazard at the end of the access road to negotiate. I explained that they MUST keep the relocated row of cones to the immediate right of their vehicle at all times as there were now 3 to 4 foot deep holes hidden under the surface of the water if they ventured off the marked path. I returned to my trailer and wished them luck.

The next morning the scene at the motorhome was revealed in all its glory! You can see the carnage in the photos. I wonder how or if they will "replace their divots." About 10:00 a.m. ANOTHER huge wrecker arrived. This one was even bigger than the big yellow one and it was equipped with a third axel on the back. They carefully backed it up and removed the motorhome, the flatbed, then "Big Blue." When I finally left they were still working on pulling the big yellow wrecker.

Your friends at the USFRA encourage you to be careful out there. Bonneville can be a very tough place!

Back to USFRA Home Page

______________________________

These folks have obviously never lived in real snow country. Treat the mud like deep snow, respect it, and it might not swallow your truck. Trouble is, unlike snow, mud doesn't go away by July. I mentioned a while back that if you get stuck in Colorado, wait and we'll dig you out, it's what we live for in the wintertime. Well, that and summer. That's really what we're doing, filling time while we wait for summer. Anyway, after all of this, we coulda gotten these boys out of that jam, without the huge three-axle wrecker and all the to-do. Of course, the mountain contingent might not dig 'em out, they were just so daggum stupid. But you can't just throw big iron at a break-through problem, just like you can't just floor it on the salt. One'll eat your truck, and the other will eat your tires.

Merry racing!

If I had a spare couch....

Who needs a tire swing when you have a sofa swing? I've put an overstuffed recliner on the remnants of a glider before and used it as a rocking chair for a while, but I must say, I've never hung large furniture from a tree. Yet. The tiki torch is a nice touch.

Mower update

This past weekend I got together with my dad over fixing this dang mower (hopefully two people are less likely to make a dumb mistake), and we set about dismantling the carburetor. A complete caburetor rebuild should fix the issue... right? We know it was fuel or air, and we know that the way it's delivered is the carb. We've seen carb rebuilds fix this before. It took a day and a half to get it all done (including an evening at the Golden Super Cruise eyeballing rare vehicles).

50 combined years of mechanical knowledge. Oh, we should have shorter crabgrass by now. Not.

The mistake we made was to forget the float valve seat. Have you ever had your toilet tank overflow because of a stuck shutoff? That's what happened to us, except it was gasoline, and it was because we left the hole too big. Oh that wasn't embarrassing. Half a gallon of gas everywhere was perfectly safe, too.

Long story short, we found our mistake, fixed it, and apparently put the governor (automatic gas pedal) back on wrong. We didn't need no stinkin' notes on how it was before we took it off.

Now the motor lugs at idle, or sticks at high revs. Think, above redline. Mower blade blowing up by your feet? Nah.

Now it's personal. It'll get fixed, even if we just have to kick it until it behaves.

Global Warning Goddammit!

In other words, it is May, and I have hereby declared it sandal weather. Despite the fact that it is 40 degrees. Fahrenheit. My remedial science knowledge tells me that if our little corner of the world is warming because of emissions, it would be 40 degrees Celsius, and I would have been able to feel my feet today.

Having spent a very fun winter wearing thick and heavy clothing, and gotten sick of it, the warm days of May are the correct time to begin with the redneck fashion disasters we are known all up and down the trailer park for. But please, people, let's not forget that the "I wear it because it's comfotable and if you can't keep your lunch down that's your problem" rule also applies to socks with sandals. It's classic. And I plan on doing it several times in the coming weeks, until it actually is Colorado's fourth season: hot-as-hell. This is not to be confused with Arizona's second season, hot-as-all-hell-and-then-some. The first season being kinda-not-as-hot-but-just-wait.

So, yes, join me in the sandal protest of this cold front. Denial always works... at least I don't believe it doesn't, right? Plus, trust me, unless you really need work boots, you don't want to be caught in workboots when the season strikes.

While I'm on the topic, let me reiterate some of Jeff Foxworthy's redneck fashion tips, as well as add some of my own.

1. If your back is so hairy you have been shot more than twice with a tranquilizer gun, say yes to a shirt. Especially one with sleeves.
2. If your body is the same color as Dracula's, but your arms aren't, stick with a t-shirt.
3. If your stomach blocks your view of your shoes, cover it up!
4. When cuffing your pantlegs, keep them below the tops of your socks. Especially if you're wearing sandals.
5. We all love polished belt buckles, but make sure it won't does not shine sun in people's eyes. But at least they won't be able to punch you for it as long as you face the sun.
6. Tuck your shirt all the way in, or all the way out.
7. Don't wear one-peice jumpsuits unless the warden says you have to.

Also, other warm-weather redneck fun & safety tips:

1. Warm gas is vaporous gas. Light up your cigaratte after you fill up.
2. Waterskiing is ALWAYS a good idea. Unless it's not.
3. Your car really WILL run on moonshine or other hard liqour, but only if it's carbeurated or FlexFuel. Don't bet your buddies on it until you've proved in your driveway that you won't be the only one running on Jim Beam, though.
4. Running an engine on alcohol will shorten the life of your beloved truck, lawnmower, motorcycle, outboard, skateboard, go-kart, small airplane, weedwhacker, chainsaw, helicopter, toothbrush, or whatever else you happen to try it in.
5. Always check the slope for barbed wire BEFORE going running down it at full tilt. Even if it's your property, there might be some there, and it leaves large holes.
6. And most of all, CHECK TWICE, SAVE A LIFE. MOTORCYCLES ARE EVERYWHERE!

Way to land, dude.

I've heard a lot lately that the proper way to snowboard is upright, on one's board, not flat on one's face. The main reason for this is probably the road rash I have all over my face right now from landing on rough spring ice. Other than that, though, I have had a great time on a snowboard, feeding my need to sometimes walk a knife's edge between getting home safe and coming home in a pine box.

I don't really know why some people love to take their life into their hands, toss it around, and bet it all on red 13 for a couple of spins. We all know that eventually, sooner, rather than later, our numbers will come up and we'll wake up injured or worse. Some people live timidly for decades, avoiding anything that might cause them pain, and drop dead of a stroke with a thousand regrets, or get hit by a bus, or a drunk driver, or lightning. Other people live twenty-some years, but enjoy and savor every minute. Most people don't know where on the spectrum they'd rather be.

I do know that "hey ya'll, watch this!" and getting hurt often go hand in hand, but we rednecks love to showboat, risk something (like our trucks), and be able to look back on good times. A lot of folks think that if you do dumbass stunts, you're automatically a redneck, and if you're a redneck, you'll be doing dumb things. Tha's not really true, but we do love a good risk now and again, even those of us who would rather not flirt with disaster most of the time, like me.

What could possibly go wrong?

Let me get this straight...

You build a giant slingshot, very near to a large stand of trees. You strap yourself into it and have your buddy on a his ATV tow you at least 100 feet and then let you go.

You do not bring a helmet.

You do not bring a change of underwear.

What could possibly go wrong?

http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&vid=33c89eca-bd1f-4ea4-8d97-f429c2b9cee0&playlist=videoByTag:tag:most%20watched%20viral:ns:MSNVideo_Top_Cat:mk:us:vs:0&from=MSNHP&tab=m1192124571607&GT1=28114

If I could embed, I would. Sorry.

An excellent invention

The world has been in great needof one of these, even though we didn't know it. This invention, the so-called "safetybike" was invented by, well, the guys you see in the video. As one astute commentor pointed out, "Your think tank was filled with beer, wasn't it?" This is something that I would probably build a version of and ride at some point. If I ever get around to it, I'll post photos. A wonderful example of what could be described as redneck ingenuity.


Notice the gloves and helmet. An excellent idea.

The wheel behind the driver's head confuses me.

More tips

Some things are just bad ideas. See these photos for more.

1. If you break a bone, do not make your own concrete cast. Even if you set the bone right, you WILL get burned something awful by the hardening concrete. It's better to let a doctor do it. Don't use plaster of paris, it is too brittle unless you get it perfect.
   
   
2. Never clean with gasoline or deisel, you will light something on fire. It will look cool, but it will also make a bigger mess and destroy stuff that you really need. Plus, fuel is too expensive.
   
   
3. Jumping off of any sort of roof onto a trapoline will cause you pain. Maybe not the first time, but there is a law of physics which basically says that it will. See tip #1.