For several years now, I’ve been a big fan of broadcasting my mistakes so that other people can avoid making them. It’s a bit humiliating to admit stupid, stupid errors, but it’s important to be honest with yourself and others about where you screwed up in order to learn your lessons as completely as possible. In that spirit, let’s talk about Monday.
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Despite taking the world’s most time-intensive intro to Java course, I’ve made slow but steady progress on this project. Today, it seems, is the day the GPS integration step is finally complete. Now for the accelerometer.
Historically, my personality hasn’t lent itself to half-measures when I’m interested in something. I very much prefer “go big or go home” as an approach to hobbies. My sportbikes find their way to racetracks, my KTM was offroad within 3 hours of purchase, and every spring when I start hiking I get scolded for dragging poor Audrea to the steepest hill I can find in my eagerness to find a challenge. To that end, my first Raspberry Pi project is shaping up to follow that pattern.
I was 23 years old when I first saw someone die. He had been riding a motorcycle in the opposite direction I had been riding on Highway 522 in Woodinville, behaving much the same as I had. Riding fast, doing the occasional wheelie, etc. The difference was that he lost control, hit a guardrail and fell 20 feet onto a rocky median. The force of the accident had torn his shoes from his feet. His red CBR finally came to rest almost a quarter mile down the highway. I saw people surrounding someone on the side of the road and, being trained by Boy Scouts to help any time I could, I stopped. I remember standing 20 feet from this person so remarkably similar to myself, unable to bring myself to face the reality that he was dying until another Good Samaritan told me he didn’t think the guy was going to live long enough for the paramedics to show up. Read More
Since I was 20 years old and saw my first road race I knew I wanted to go racing. In 2014 at 28 I got the opportunity. After scrimping and saving for months on end, I bought race bike from my buddy Keegan. It had been his old race bike and as we’re friends he let me buy it for a screaming deal. Knowing that he wouldn’t intentionally sell me a lemon, and that I’d be able to pick his brain about the bike at pretty much any time of the day going forward, I leapt at the deal.
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Then it was back to loose fist sized gravel with sharp edges for the next 15 miles or so. At some point I entered a bird sanctuary where I saw a friendly Game Warden cruising along on his ATV. He looked to be having a better time than I.
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After I was injured in May of 2014 I was having a hard time staying active. I had gone from working 60 hours per week to doing nothing, so in an effort to combat my newly sedentary lifestyle I decided to go for a ride along Washington’s Backcountry Discovery Route. Read More
When my poor, beloved R6 finally gave up in 2011 I had an opportunity to buy a liter-class bike for the first time. I had dreamed of owning an R1 years before, only to be diverted to an R6. I had made an effort to purchase a 2005 GSX-R 1000 in 2009, but had decided it wasn’t a sound financial decision at that time. All of my friends had liter bikes, and they wouldn’t let me forget it. They’d simply walk away from me on straightaways, and while I could catch them in corners I always felt like I wasn’t a member of the cool kid club until I had my own thousand. Read More
From the ages of 19 to 26 I would bet good money that most people that came into sight of me saw me only as a blackish blur. I rode sportbikes on the street the way that Dr Rockso does cocaine. In the battle of Go Big vs Go Home I always went big. Splitting cars at 155mph on the freeway, 120 mph through a fog bank, 170 mph runs down the coast… I’ve long since forgotten how many times I was pulled over. I remember at least 8 citations and one arrest. I can’t imagine a way in which I wasn’t the worst traffic criminal in the state of Washington on several different days (short of DUI’s). That all changed on August 4, 2012 on an early morning ride to Mt. Baker. That morning it became crystal clear that I was going to get killed chasing a rush. I was taking risks that were outrageous and feeling nothing, so I decided to hang up my spurs. Read More
