L.A. Rains Hit Home

With L.A. receiving as much rain this past week as it normally does in an entire year, I've learned first hand that people here have zero propensity for handling the rain. They run for cover at the first descending drop, gather provisions and bravely huddle in front of TiVo'ed episodes of TMZ to ride out the atrocity.

I knew it was tough for some people - a friend around the corner in a basement 1 bedroom watched the sewer line back up and present itself 3" deep throughout her place. Management says the other 105" of air space are fine and 98% dry should be good enough for her.

My friend James, who is an 'urban camper' had to scramble to higher ground as the bridge-side location he frequents became a solid runoff stream. Five tough days for him and at least a few more to come.

The real horror of the rains and their destructive effects didn't hit home until today - at the dog park. After 30 min of good clean fun, Jasper decided that the best way to interact with the other dogs was to run for the one mud spot in the park and roll flat on his back - then writhe around upside down while other dogs bit his neck and other assorted parts. It was quite possibly some caninish-spiritual rite of atonement but I couldn't quite make out the deeper meaning - though I'm sure there was one.

Some deeper-doggie meaning is the only way I can justify the two hours of wash, rinse and repeat that followed. I've just now made it to the point of having a passably clean dog and a completely filthy apartment.

When, oh when, will these devil rains cease!

I'd go outside and shake my fist toward the heavens, but I'm braced for the throes of our current light sprinkle. And besides, there's a fresh TMZ on pause.

Looks great outside and on the new Pergo!

Moment of Truth

Santa brought me a coffee table book again this year, "The History of the Porsche 911" updated for 2007. [santaspoiler]Santa bringing the book means that I went out and grabbed one of Border's $15 and under sale items on Christmas Eve and stuck it in with the other gifts, but I was too lazy to wrap it. Everyone in my house knows that presents from Santa aren't wrapped.[/santaspoiler] Anyway, about the book.

The History of the Porsche 911 is one of those 20" square, 350 page books with 250 full bleed pictures and 100 smaller supporting shots. The pictures are the thing, not the words. Typically, the text is there just to fill up the spots between pictures. Normally, I'd flip through and gawk at the glossy images and that would be pretty much it. I've bought or been given dozens of these over the years and haven't read a single one.

This year was different; I read every word. Maybe it was the subject matter, arguably the world's best ever sports car, or maybe it was a particularly hard Christmas for me. Being my first extended set of holiday parties since Lorilee, the consummate 'Christmas Girl' passed away, maybe it was easier to bury my head in the sports car book than interact with family. Just maybe.

If you know cars at all, it would seem a given that the Porsche would have always cherished the 911 brand and kept it in the forefront of the company's plans always. Not the case, which leads me to the point of this bit of writing.

In the mid-70's as the US was continually flagellating on regulations for emissions and safety, someone inside of Porsche had a great idea. Knowing that Chevrolet's Corvette was THE American sports car and as such would never be outlawed someone in legal reasoned, 'let's build a German version of the Corvette' and we'll be safe with the regulators. Over the next 10 years they worked on phasing out the 911 and refining the replacements. At one point top management dictated that no further work would be done on the 911. Two front engine, rear drive cars (the 928 and 944) would receive all development Deutsch Marks.

A new chairman was appointed in the late 80's after an early retirement, three months before the Super Bowl of endurance racing - the 24 Hours of Le Mans. The chairman, eager to learn about the racing effort for the big show, met with the racing division staff his second day on the job. They were busy preparing two 944's for the race. "How will we secure victory?" was the first question. The staff replied that these cars would not be competitive, they were working feverishly with hopes to be within 2 seconds per lap of the best in their class - overall victory would be out of the question.

This became a watershed moment for the new chairman. He stopped everyone working in the shop and assembled the racing staff for a quick meeting. The meeting was brief. He declared that while he was chairman Porsche would only enter races with the goal of overall victory. He would return tomorrow and expect a 20 minute presentation on exactly how Porsche would accomplish this goal.

The plan was hatched by the racing team during the 'all-nighter' that followed. The next day the new chairman was presented with a radical plan - take last years Le Mans winning 911's out of the Porsche museum and upgrade them to the current regulations, run a radical race strategy that would force Porsche drivers to stay in the car two or three times longer than the rest of the field. Do that without any mistakes by the pit crew or drivers for the full 24 hours and Porsche could win the race.

The "Museum Cars" came in first and third that year winning yet another Le Mans for Porsche. The chairman was revered by the workers at Porsche and the 911 was brought back to prominence for the company, where the 911 remains the flagship platform to this day.

When I read the story, two things came to mind:
- Don't Settle.
If I don't set a worthy goal or have a high standard, greatness won't be achieved.

- Make the decision when it needs to be made
There is no reason to hold back for even a moment when I know what is right.

However, having finished the book, I guess I'll have to return to the party. Oh, wait, here's a great one "The Full and Complete Racing History of the AMC Gremlin" - better get to reading.

A Spinal Tap Moment

I had my first Spinal Tap Moment.

An artist I met recently showed me pictures of several of her sculptures - wooden abstract pieces that were constructed out of wood and mylar lashed together with natural twine. Some looked to be suspended in a hotel courtyard or lobby. Other shots were of walls or doorways redone with a dramatic color scheme or texture. Very impressive stuff. The art work was cool, too.

A week or so later, I had the occasion to visit her studio in a converted airplane hanger at the Santa Monica airfield. "Had the occasion" means, made every effort to get some additional face time, of course.

Well, while I was there, it turns out the huge sculptures I envisioned were actually ten, twelve or thirty six inches, not feet - as you may have guessed by the title. I'm sure I must have stopped dead in my tracks just staring at this teeny, tiny art with a stupid/silly grin on my face. That was a pebble in the picture, not a bolder. That is yarn, not yardarm rigging. No way she noticed my bemused look though, I'm sure of it.

The first five minutes I was there I probably didn't hear a word that was said as I just couldn't get the image of these tiny delicate shoe box sized art pieces being lowered from the ceiling at some dramatic art gallery opening by giant pulleys and chains. "Behold 'Mondrain's Shell'!" (pictured above) It is an award winner and is 36 long X 21 wide and 10 high!" Queue the little people!

It's such a fine line between stupid, and clever - David St. Hubbins, This is Spinal Tap (1984)

Later in the conversation, after I rejoined reality, I made an off-hand reference to the movie "This Is Spinal Tap" but it didn't register with her. I spared her the anecdote above after learning that she didn't share my feelings about one of the true classics. This story will be a secret between you and me. Of course, I got out of any future plans with her.

Obviously incompatible, we were.

You just don't get many Spinal Tap moments in life, though. You have to cherish them when you can.