Test Ride

joshbrown — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 03:30:02 +0000

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DIY: Making A Traffic Light Trigger

joshbrown — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 18:09:50 +0000

I realize I haven’t posted on here in a while. I’ve been incredibly swamped with work and haven’t had much time to write about my random travels. But hopefully that’s about to change. I’ve got a couple of posts stored up and ready to go.

But first things first. After getting a tip from LifeHacker a couple of months ago, I decided to make my own traffic light trigger.

One of the problems of having such a light vehicle is that it doesn’t have enough magnetic force to change the traffic lights. This isn’t much of a problem during the day when the traffic lights are usually on set, rotating timers. But at night, when the timers go off and the roads turn into a first come, first serve basis . . . it’s not as fun waiting at a light in the freezing cold.

I got my friend Eric to hook me up with some super strong Earth magnets that pull 20 lbs each. I stuck them in a pill box underneath the scooter and put some duck tape over it to keep it tight and secure. Lo and behold . . . the lights change for me now when I pull up. That is if it’s after 8:00 pm.

Trigger GREEN Traffic Lights! - video powered by Metacafe

Vespa Ride: 50 Mile Loops Are My New Favorite

joshbrown — Sat, 06 Oct 2007 20:58:34 +0000

Link to this map

In a 50 mile loop that took about 2 hours to drive. Here is what I passed or saw.

- The 2007 Petit Le Mans Road Race

- The Mayfield Dairy

- The Wrigley Plant (it smelled like this for a 2 miles)

- The Flowery Branch Fall Festival in the streets

- The Atlanta Falcons home base, training facility, and offices

- Chateau Elan Winery & Resort (also site of perhaps the greatest YouTube video ever)

Then the cool stuff happened. I was driving through historic Buford (about 3 miles from the house and the last leg of my nice drive) when lo and behold I see a train approaching this beautiful historic downtown. The odd thing was that 20 foot flames (take away 5 feet for exaggeration) were coming out the left, the right, and the top. Ala Back to the Future. All exaggeration aside, it looked like this except the train was moving. So I wheeled the Vespa around and started to speed back downtown to warn the townsfolk. Which meant that I was trying to get ahead of the train to take some pictures of it coming at me with flames pouring out.

By the time I got ahead of it . . . it had stopped and they had killed the gas or coal or whatever they use to run it. And there was nothing left but simmering flames. I only wish I would have gotten the picture on the fly as opposed to trying to stage it.

Vespa Ride: Forced Into The World

joshbrown — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 19:39:48 +0000

See Map Here

It is an odd thing to drive on roads for years and never really notice things. On a scooter you’re forced into your surroundings. Propelled into your environment.

The Greek word for auto (as in automobile) is self. Which is where we also get the word autonomous. In an automobile you are somewhat isolated from the rest of the world. The other drivers, the air, the weather, the road. It’s somewhat of a closed environment.

Perhaps I’m way too analytical and always looking for metaphors for life, but on my ride today I could do nothing but think about these things.

In a short 30 mile loop, I got chased by a crazy wolf-dog. Drove directly behind a garbage truck, and smelled the exhaust from 1 out of every 2 cars that I rode behind.

I’ve never driven and had my nose affected. Except of course when the smell of fast food gets trapped in the car. But being in an open air vehicle I’m forced into the world. And I’ve quickly learned to notice things that I didn’t or wouldn’t notice before.

I can now tell you where specific cracks are in each road. Where there is a soft patch of loose gravel. Where there are pot holes. I’m beginning to memorize these spots. I now feel the wind. I have to brace when a gust hits me from the side and moves me over a couple of feet. I have to be respectful of it. I now am forced to smell the garbage that is wreaking from the back of the truck that is in front of me. It’s enough to make me gag. I pass by road kill that is on it’s way to being flattened out and it’s enough to make me throw up. I inhale the exhaust from most cars and it’s enough to give me a headache. I’m on constant watch for slicks of oil and puddles of excess car fluids that drip off at stop lights.

I don’t think there is any clearer reality of the degradation of our environment than on a road.

You realize how fragmented our cities are. Spread out over great distances. You realize that things are less local than you imagined. And yet somehow you feel more local. More rooted. More connected.

This is the great paradox. Beauty and filth. Fresh, crisp, air. And stagnant, warm, exhaust. Hard, black, pavement. And the smell of the lake, the sound of the leaves, the dancing of the clouds.

Exposed to the elements, feeling the wind lap at your skin . . . there’s nothing else like it. It’s a great feeling. All of your senses are alive and alert. Awakened in a way that you didn’t know was possible. Ready for the next glimpse of beauty or the next threat of danger.

This is not to romanticize the scooter and demonize the automobile. In many ways I’m more isolated than an automobile. In a car you get to talk to your spouse. You have the luxury of heat in the winter and the air condition in the summer. I might not be saying these same things were it not the Fall. When I’m sitting at a red light on the asphalt in July . . . I might share another story.

But there is something special about a scooter. Something I’m only beginning to understand. It’s a way that truly makes you aware of your surroundings. It’s a way of riding in which you feel connected. Feel rooted. Feel the thin gap of space between you and the asphalt.

I’m beginning to learn it’s less road and more path.

Listening: Micah P. Hinson

You Have Heard It Said . . .

joshbrown — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 05:31:07 +0000

Here is the story from my Saturday Ride.

I’m not really sure if I’m doing this right. But then again I doubt there is truly a right way. All I know is I have on sandals, jeans, and a t-shirt. And a $15 sling backpack that is quickly becoming all to invaluable. I wonder if people are going to make fun of me. God I’m so insecure. The last thing I need is a Harley guy to pull up beside me. Blankest Year by Nada Surf comes to mind. I sing the chorus in my head as I squeeze the left brake and hit the ignition switch with my right hand. Me and my ambition. It might be the death of me.

Through suburbia. Left on Sycamore. The wind is crisp. The air affable.

Kill the mood. I’m at the first stop light. Please don’t let there be a Harley. Please don’t let there be a Harley. Sing Nada Surf. Sing Nada Surf. And I take a right on 20. There is no one in front of me and no one behind me. I suppose this is a good start. I’m back crisp wind. I’m back affable air. Thank you for staying true. 35 . . . 45 . . . 55 . . . and I settle in.

A gull flies over head. It looks black from here. I suppose my perspective of being on the ground and looking up has that effect on things. Perhaps if our positions were flipped. Would my black look white? This will not be the last time I see a sea gull today. Nor the last time I think about the black gulls.

I move forward. Catching but one red light on my way out of suburbia. “I am going to the mountains suburbs! Hear me now! You will not be my master today! I have a Vespa! I put my groceries in cloth bags! I eat free range chicken! I am a saint!”

What a fool. I’m talking to myself. And soothing myself with words that mean nothing to no one but me. I see the white line moving past. I feel the vibration of the engine. I smell the lake in the air. I think I can feel the tires licking the pavement. This tactile machine. Forcing me to greet the world with or without choice. I pull onto 9 and head north. Driving slowly at first between old downtown buildings that have been recently restored. And then into places where the grass grows between the cracks. Fallen signs. Rusty doors. Scattered aluminum. Where is the restorative process now I ask? What is wrong with this part of the highway? It’s amazing what a difference a mile makes. From bike paths to stacks of old tires in front of buildings. And let’s not forget the plastic rims for sale.

Any road with the word bridge in it is a road ripe with possibilities. I veer right and begin my loop. Over 1 bridge. Over another bridge. And then one more. Sailboats cut across the water and an old man fishes. And there goes another yard sale. You have heard it said that, “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.” But I tell you today one man’s junk is another man’s junk. We all are collectors. And of what?

A hat rack? An old paperback? Did I see some more plastic rims sticking out of a cardboard box marked “attic stuff”?

The air is steady. It does not change. It rushes at me. And then rushes again. Rushing, steady air. It keeps me on my toes. Reminds me that I am alive. It forces me from my isolation. Forces me to recognize it. I find my legs tightening as I take turns. Perhaps I’m more scared than I thought. Squeezing in on the sides . . . lowering my head down . . . pulling the throttle back. I want to close my eyes and imagine myself standing on top of a train with my arms spread out like Kate in Titanic. Why I chose a train over a boat I am unsure.

I ease myself over to the side of the road. Turn the ignition off and walk down towards the water’s edge. I sit down under a tree. If only I had my pipe. Then and only then would the suburbs be my true pawn.

“Do not forget me suburbs. Do not forget me.”

Saturday Ride

joshbrown — Sat, 29 Sep 2007 04:37:15 +0000

I took a nice 2 and a half ride around Lake Lanier this morning. It was a 57 mile loop. The weather couldn’t have been nicer. And the scenery more beautiful.

Here’s a map of the loop. Speaking of . . . does anyone know of a good road mapping software or web based platform that lets you map out your trip? I know they make some for runners. Anybody familiar with anything off the top of your head? Google Maps just isn’t doing it for me.

Vespa Rides So Far

joshbrown — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 04:34:52 +0000

For those interested I’ve got a new map that I’m trying to keep updated of where all I’ve driven the Vespa (still lacking a name by the way). You can find it here.

Tonight Anna and I took a nice little drive (20 miles round trip) to a Mellow Mushroom to meet some friends. The only thing people don’t tell you is how cold it gets. I was wearing pants and a hoodie and was still chilly. I’m going to have to get some official clothes.

A Night of Ambition: Mission Aborted

joshbrown — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 03:46:19 +0000

***UPDATE*** The mission got aborted. We only made it 1 mile before we got pulled over by our county’s finest at which point we received a 15 minute lecture about the dangers of driving without insurance and a license.

Some would say this is a bit ambitious for a first night.

But with a wife so cute . . . who wouldn’t want to give it a try?

Onward to the Hendersons.

The Newest Member of the Brown Family

joshbrown — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 04:38:15 +0000

We have a new mode of transportation. Both of our businesses are going well, and one of us was stuck at the house more than we’d like to be. I can only watch so many CSI reruns. Josh can only take Jack for so many walks. Enter Vespa.

See all of the photos here.

About Me

joshbrown — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 05:38:52 +0000

This page is under construction.

i.e. I’m too lazy to write anything right now.