Tuesday, June 17, 2014

CYBORGS DRIVING ON THE SUN

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Human + machine = Hot rodding. That's the basic formula. But there are always some hardcores who insist on taking that tenet to the cyborg level and becoming virtual components of the machinery. So it is with Velomobile riders. It was a response to Ron Will's Turbo Phantom SGE feature that led us to Velomobile cyborg David Whitmon in Marthas Vinyard. Intrigued by this new-to-us mechanical creative outlet, we moved in for a closer look.


David Whitmon credits this machine with saving his humanity. Nice save, and the Velomobile looked cool doing it. Just like a dragster, this is an extreme alternative transport niche, stripped to its essence.

Whitmon's story is so personal, we asked him to tell it from his unique perspective, which just happens to be overlooking Marthas Vinyard, where pedalers from Kennedys to Bushes have cycled and recycled without ever coming close to a state of hot roddiness. How did Whitmon pull it off?

"Velomobiles are the most efficient means of human transportation ever devised. Faster than any road bike, moped or scooter - depending on the rider, that is. For a fit young rider on a 15 pound top-of-the-line road bike, it's still like riding with an open parachute, compared to to a Velomobile. Aerodynamics is the name of the game.

In a sense, this is a retreating action on my part. In my mid-30's, I was diagnosed with a degenerative joint disorder. The Docs up in Boston wanted to do two complete knee replacements. They lent me a video of the surgery. I watched half of it, switched it off, and went out and bought a bicycle. At that time, I was walking with a cane, and going down the stairs on my ass, as my legs would buckle if I tried to walk down any stairs. My first ride was a short one. Afterward, I was icing and soaking in a bathtub for three days. Then I did it again, and again, and again. A year later, I started a mountain bike club, though my body can't take the beating anymore. I'm 2 1/2 inches shorter now than I was at 19 years old, because of joints and a lack of discs in my lower back. The upright (riding) position is not good for my body anymore. The Velomobile is (operated in) a supportive recumbent position. It's a barcalounger on wheels. I went car-free over three years ago, and despite the harsh winter we had, I have 2,728 miles in, so far this year. And for the last eight weeks, I've averaged 197.37 miles a week. I do all my errands and grocery shopping with the Velomobile. I've run the piss out of it, and it keeps on going."


Whitmon's Velomobile interior is snug, but therapeutically comfy. Prominent features include a fully digital dash and mechanical handlebar/joystick steering: "Steering is via a short ten inch handlebar on a long shaft that goes down to the floor and meets a small universal joint. The u-joint connects to a short shaft that goes through the floor and connects to the steering linkages." And there are as many steering concepts as there are Velomobile builders. 

"There are two 20" X 1.35" wheels and tires that handle steering, and the rear 26" X 2" wheel is the (chain driven) drive wheel." Whitmon is obviously driven himself, and hopes the condition is contagious.


Stick-on headlights allow for night driving. An integral taillight keeps the rear safe and legal...


... yet the screaming yellow teardrop still attracts the occasional curious traffic cop. Free-range thinking often results in questions from authority, and Flat Earth Society-style reactions from traditional hot rodders don't help matters. Luckily, such resistance is the exception to the rule.


But no matter the weather...

... Whitmon's physical rehabilitation needs get tended to in style, while leaving only two skinny footprints.
David Whitmon pedals off into a more promising future. Here's to good health and a cleaner road for our grandchildren to travel.


Other proponents of pedal-powered daily drivers include Cole Coonce and Don Garlits. Whitmon is in good company.

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As popular as pedaling has become in recent years, bicycles are still nearly as scarce on America's roadways as hot rods (which have been holding steady at roughly 1% of all vehicles for decades). Perhaps the roads themselves can be rethought to lighten the load on future generations. That's the conclusion Scott and Julie Brusaw of Sagle, Idaho came to, after mucho head scratching.

Brusaw family selfie. They look normal enough, but they believe we should drive on the sun.

The Brusaw's recycle glass to build solar panels designed to be driven on. The cells withstand 250,000 pounds each, while paying for themselves by generating electricity. They also feature heaters to melt snow and ice, lights to guide the way, a textured top layer that offers improved traction with lower noise, and the entire LED grid is programmed to display traffic warnings, while underground wiring tunnels double as a vastly improved water drainage system, eliminating unsightly phone poles in the process. And there's more - lots more. Visit https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/solar-roadways for specifics on how constructing solar roadways can jumpstart America's flatline economy by employing the jobless. You'll also find a grassroots fundraising campaign targeting a million dollar start-up goal that has surpassed two million bucks of donations, as of this writing. The campaign ends on June 20th. Guarantee: You may enter the site with skepticism, but will leave enlightened and inspired.

The Brusaw's Solar Roadways concern is based in Sandpoint, Idaho, depicted in this artist's rendering. (Image by Sam Cornett)

Being open to possibilities has always been the key to discovering advancements, be they technical or otherwise. Can you imagine what humans could accomplish as a race, once more of their numbers set unfounded fears aside to embrace the possible? That will be a great day. Until then, it's up to the cyborgs...

Visionaries are handing us solutions on a transparent platter. All we have to do is accept it. 

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

 Squirrels worldwide began using Australia as a migration rest area in the 1940's. By the 60's, nature had taken its course and the first hybrids appeared. Today, Australian Squirreleroos rule the streets and racetracks. Their muscular hind quarters allow for effortless engagement of the stiffest clutches and a throttle stomp unequaled in any form of motorsport. With their squirrel-gene lightning reaction times intact, the Squirreleroos enjoy a decided advantage that have inspired more than a few Australian racers to migrate to the U.S., just to remain competitive. Gene splicing is nothing new to these guys. 

The latest advancement in tool storage, as used by Kiwi Fingerz Mullan to service his fleet of nitro Altereds. Lightweight plastic construction and space-saving fold-away design deem the Stanley Fat Max king of the pits at any track. If you don't have a Fat Max, you're just not getting anywhere. 

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

More variations on the Velomobile. From rod to custom and several points in between:














NEXT WEEK: Back to untamed horsepower, and plenty of it. No pedaling allowed in Scottyville.



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Tuesday, June 10, 2014

LAST MEETING AT THE SECRET CLUBHOUSE

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Last weekend was the (last?) Gosson family reunion. Saint Shellski and I loaded up Sheila the Wonder Dog in the car and headed north. This sight greeted us at the intersection of Highways 62 and 97. I instantly recognized the black '34 and blue/white '57 Fords as Bob and Jim Lindsay's respective rides. The brothers and their posse were en route from their Shedd, Oregon home base to a hot rod gathering in Rogue River, near our place. There was a slight delay while we caught up on gossip and lies, but neither Shellski nor Sheila complained. (Scotty shot)


 We hit my hometown of The Dalles at dusk. Not much had changed in the little burg snuggled between Mt. Hood and the Columbia river, except for the cars. (Cellphone shot by Shellski)




Driving out of The Dalles on Mill Creek Road through miles of cherry orchards, the pavement finally ends here, at the 188 acres nabbed by Pappy Gosson over 100 years ago. Previously a cherry orchard, the property now produces alfalfa (Achoo!). (Photo by Dianne Gosson)


Again, only the cars (and recently, the crops) have changed. This photo does no justice to the dramatic steep hillsides of pines that frame the property. Alas, everyone is too old to care for it now, so our beloved meeting place is going on the market. This weekend would be our last hurrah at the old home place. (Photo by Dianne Gossin)


Any Gosson who's ever checked their mailbox has suffered the heartbreak of misspellings. I shot this as soon as I could, but it was too late. In the time it took to put my camera back in the case, someone (Sheila?) made off with the cake! (Photo by Dianne Gossen)


There was one bullying incident caught by security cameras. A black eye on an otherwise idyllic event. We eventually got organized enough to click a group photo. (Image courtesy of Multnomeh Security)



The result of a half hour of drill sergeant barking and nipping by Dianne and Sheila. That's Aunt Dorothy seated front and center - the last Gosson to inhabit what I consider to be the most important place on Earth. (Photo by Steven Grossom)



Our greatest love and respect to Aunt Dorothy, who - Hey! Photo bomb by Rocky Gosson. (Photo by Ansel Adams)


Graphic proof that chicks dig guys with cookies. Dianne puts the moves on me while Shellski gives her the stinkeye. Cat fight! (Photo by Janet Gasson)


Saint Shellski after I gave her a cookie. She copped an instant sugar rush and became quite manic. We took her to the creek and flushed her out with water. She's fine now. (Scotty shot)

Mrs. Rocky ("Janet") made the Gosson Bros. and Sister Gaye pose like tourists on our own home turf. How humiliating. (Photo by Janet Gossun)


You don't argue with Mrs. Rocky. (Scotty shot)


Sheila the Wonder Dog astounded all attendees with her uncanny hot dog eating abilities. She was training for an upcoming contest at the State Fair. Wish her luck - first prize is a package of bratwursts! (Scotty shot)


More Gosson trivia: Cousin Steve (foreground) is a retired aerial photographer. Cousin Darrell (background) is still neck deep in hot rods and Harleys. (Scotty shot)


Schmoozing with cousin Eric (center - who lives and builds hot rods right across the road from the old place) and famous stand-up comedian/metal fabricator Jim Mortenson - son of cousin Dianne. (Photo by Dianne Gosson, I think)

If you've ever watched Hawaii 5-0 on TV, you've seen cousin Leo playing the lounge singer in every episode with a lounge scene (which was a lot of scenes). He's still crooning. (Photo by Dianne Gossen)


Cousins Dianne and Leo were both born in Australia, but arrived stateside as pups. Dianne is a lifelong horse trainer, both here and in Australia. Dianne and cousin Nadine were instrumental in organizing this monkey fest. THANK YOU!!! (Photographer unknown)



Cousin Mike has worked for Harley Davidson forever. He recently retired from travelling with their Nitro Harley program and is happy to be wrenching in a Seattle-area H-D shop near his home. (Scotty shot)


This garage has seen more action than most dyno rooms. Everything from farm equipment to race cars (with a lot of bizarre oddities in between) have been thrashed on within this structure. May it continue to survive smoke and noise for many years to come. (Scotty shot)


On the return trip south, we stopped for lunch in Eugene, Oregon (Oh You Ducks!), where I photographed the bus station for your reference. Enjoy. (Scotty shot)

For a more automotive-oriented account of the reunion, go to www.motormouthradio.com and check out the second half of last Sunday's show.

I have no words to express what the Mill Creek place and its people mean to me. But Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter do. Their Brokedown Palace is the anthem of homecoming that sustained me during 23 years of homesickness, suffered in the Midwest. It was a long time coming, but since returning to Oregon in 1996, these words have been the soundtrack to my gratitude. Never were they more omnipresent in my ears than last weekend:

Fare you well my honey
Fare you well my only true one
All the birds that were singing
Have flown except you alone

Going to leave this brokedown palace
On my hands and my knees
I will roll roll roll
Make myself a bed by the waterside
In my time in my time I will roll roll roll

In a bed in a bed
By the waterside I will lay my head
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul

River gonna take me
Sing me sweet and sleepy
Sing me sweet and sleepy
All the way back home
It's a far gone lullabye
Sung many years ago
Mama mama many worlds I've come 
Since I first left home

Going home going home
By the waterside I will rest my bones
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul

Going to plant
A weeping willow
On the bank's green edge it will grow grow grow
Sing a lullabye beside the water
Lovers come and go on the river
They roll roll roll

Fare you well fare you well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul

(Copyright Ice Nine Publishing)
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NEXT WEEK: WE RETURN TO OUR STANDARD FORMAT WITH MORE TRUE STORIES OF THE HOT ROD LIFE.

For your amusement. (Photographer unknown)