The Miata seems to be making bad differential noises. I’m trying to decide whether to ignore or fix.
In addition, I keep finding more and more rust on Arthur. Bad rust. Enough to make the think I really shouldn’t have bought him.
Posts by Berck
Mt. Magazine State Park
Joanna figured we should see what Arkansas has to offer since it’s relatively close and has hills. She picked Mt. Magazine because it’s relatively close (we only used 2 tanks of gasoline round-trip) and it’s the highest point in Arkansas.
This seemed as good a weekend as any to head out there (especially since we didn’t want to go in the summer), so we packed the car and set off. Packing for a weekend camping trip seems so incredibly easy compared to packing for a few months camping.
The weather was pretty good. Saturday presented us with a high overcast stratus layer which prevented us from getting any sun, but it was remarkably warm with a high around 65. We put the top down on Saturday and didn’t put it back up until we got back. That’s one of the only things I miss in the winter is top down driving. Joanna was smoking something and started directing me to I-40.
“Aren’t there good roads?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, why should we drive Interstate?”
“You don’t want to drive on the Interstate?”
“No! When do I ever want to drive on the interstate?”
We took Highway 9 out of Norman and drove through the countryside. Interstate driving is so boring, and you don’t get to see anything. The two-laned roads really aren’t much slower in places like Oklahoma. The speed limit is 65mph, but there aren’t any cops, and the roads are pretty straight with lots of passing opportunities. Passing provides a good excuse to downshift into 3rd at 60mph and hear the engine scream— something that’s just silly on the interstate. Joanna and I discussed passing techniques– she drives me crazy by passing in 5th gear all the time. “I don’t NEED to downshift.” she says. I maintain if you’ve got the power, you might as well spend as little time in the opposite lane as necessary. I view it like using maximum available power for takeoff in an airplane, always. Why needlessly risk trouble? Joanna seemed surprised that in third gear, the rev limiter doesn’t cut in until 85mph.
We stopped in Tecumseh, OK for lunch at a little cafe full of smoke. Jonah had country fried steak; I had a burned burger that was made better by the addition of lots of pickles and grilled onions.
We didn’t get there until about 5pm. Fortunately, Joanna had called for reservations, because it’s a very strange park. There didn’t appear to be any way to pay for a campsite after the visitor center had closed. Stuck on the window was a piece of paper that said ASH #8 in letters big enough that I could read them from the car. Joanna walked up and managed to figure out that ASH is more or less our last name, and took the note to mean that we were supposed to be in #8. The nice thing about being assigned a campground is that you don’t have to pick. Given the choices available (not many), we probably would have picked #8 anyway.
Joanna scavanged for firewood while I set up the tent. The wood was pretty damp, so she made a lot of smoke before getting a fire going, though she didn’t seem to have much trouble. It was nice to be camping somewhere that gathering firewood isn’t prohibited like it is most places we’ve been lately. (In much of the west, fires weren’t allowed at all last year…)
On Sunday morning we drove the scenic loop and walked up to the highest point in Arkansas.
We took a different and probably better route home. We went through McAllister, home of the only remaining Flight Service Station in Oklahoma. I talk to someone in McAllister everytime I fly…. now I’ve been there. We also went through Holdenville, yet another no-where place I’d flown to. I remembered finding Holdenville was somewhat difficult because there’s really nothing between Norman and Holdenville. It didn’t look much different from the car.
The weather on Sunday was sunny until we got within about 60 miles of Norman. Joanna and I even got just a little bed red-faced.
A good weekend. I took a few pictures– they’re up on the photographs page.
Laundry continued
It turns out that if you let ink-stained clothes soak all day and overnight with lots of soap and then wash them many times, the darker colored things look fine. The lighter colored things look fine once you bleach them. I managed to salvage most everything.
We slept with the windows open last night. At about 5am some sort of commotion woke me up. I had a hard time figuring out what was going on because I had been very much asleep. After a few seconds, I realized that it was coyotes. It’s one thing when they howl. But when they start carrying on yapping and yodling they sound just diabolical. Almost human-like. I pictured them lounging around a carcass of some sort, mugs full of ale, cigarettes, rolling around about some really funny coyote joke.
It’s amusing that we live in an apartment, but can hear coyotes just as loud as I’ve ever heard them when we’re camping.
Mostly Oklahoma has skunks. A lot of skunks. And coyotes. And road runners. But the whole state has been smelling of skunk for the past couple of weeks, and there’s dozens of them dead on the roads. It’s a strange place, Oklahoma.
Stupid Laundry
When I got up this morning, the weather was 100ft overcast with a visibility of less than 1/4 mile. It’s now up to 700ft and 7 miles, but, needless to say, I did not fly. Which is annoying, because I’m itching to get done with this.
I did manage to completely destroy a large portion of my wardrobe. It seems that I included a black ink pen with my last load. I’m not very happy about this, but fortunately most of what got destroyed was generic solid-color t-shirts. These are fortunately inexpensive. Unfortunately, my current favorite flannel shirt has some enormous black blobs on it now. I don’t think I can wear it in public anymore– Jonah would get mad. It seems silly that perfectly good clothes can’t be worn in public just because they’ve got some black spots on them? Doesn’t it?
Fortunately, all of my pants with the exception of a pair of brand new khaki cargos survived. I have a lot boxers with black ink on them as well, but that doesn’t matter, right?
Progress– slow and unsteady.
As you’ve probably noticed, things look a little different. I’m a little annoyed by the fixed-width thing; it seems that web people feel this strange need to specify pixel widths for a page. I can’t find a theme I much like. I tried to adapt the old one, but it broke the comments page, and I’m too lazy to figure out how to fix that.
I took the FAA Commercial Airplane Pilot written exam yesterday. I answered 95/100 questions correctly, so my 90% and above record is maintained. I’ve still got two flights left in this stage, minimum. If I can perform all my maneuvers within the appropriate tolerances next flight, then I’m going to fly with another instructer for a “mock stage check” to make sure I can pass, then off for the real thing. The third and final stage of this program should go much more quickly than the first two.
Maybe, just maybe, with a little luck I’ll finish at the end of April. That means I’ll have been here a year which is still way longer than I’d hoped. And then comes the job search. If I get a job somewhere other than Norman, that means that Joanna will be forced to look for other work. I’m thinking this is a good thing, because this warehouse stuff is getting old– and I’m not the one doing it!
We ate breakfast at the airport on Saturday because Jonah wanted to. The food was only mediocre, but it’s all you can eat for $5, and it’s not a buffet.
Jonah was talking about my “obnoxiousessity” last night. No, I don’t get it either.
I would have gotten one of those two flights out of the way today, but it seems that the airplane is down for maintenance. Maybe they’ll fix the stall warning horn? Both it and the plane I flew on Friday had innoperative stall horns. To be fair, the horn in 8091E sounded right as the plane stalled– but it’s really too late then. I did a half-dozen stall in 76067 and didn’t hear a peep out of it. Maybe it’s good for me– get used to judging my proximity to a stall without the horn. Still, there’s a reason just about every sort of plane has some kind of a stall warning system…
On Friday, I passed a party balloon on climbout at about 600 feet. I was close enough to clearly make out the string tied around it. It’s so very weird to have any reference frame other than the ground. The balloon appeared to be hanging out in one place as I climbed above it and flew past it just off the left wingtip. Yesterday, I got pretty close to a flock of birds that was higher than I’ve ever seen birds– about 4,500ft MSL. It was such a big flock of birds that ATC advised me of “Traffic, 10 o’clock, intermittent return, slow moving, altitude unknown.”