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The weather this
year was perfect. I cannot complain about the weather. Even the dust
storms were perfect. Perfect sunsets, perfect full moon, perfect perfect
perfect. If I had known the weather was going to be perfect I wouldn't
have made space suits. |
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Our chairs needed
a lot of maintanance this year. The rope broke early on and I had
to take the engine cover off. This turned out to be a good thing.
Although it was louder, we discovered that pressing on a certain lever
caused the chairs to accelerate like it had nitrous oxide; an emergency
back-up booster nuclear power feature we were hither to unaware of.
When we were about to leave we took one last drive way out passed
the man and the wheel fell off again. It was kind of funny. It is
in the MoChair Video. |
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My daughter,
Michelle, and her boyfriend, Bruce arrived and we practiced our
movie star smiles during a dust storm. I think Bruce needs a little
more practice. I should give him some pointers.
And another thing: The coffee
in center camp was also excellant this year. It was unbearably excellant.
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I think there were
four kinds of art vehicles this year.
Those built on golf carts and ATV's. Some seemed way beyond the reach
of the back yard junk yard.
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Those built on full
size cars and vans: how did they get them up there?
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Those that seemed
to be built by hand but were mechanically superior and very expensive.
This one was pedal power.
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And those built
like mine, from junk with 18th century technology. These used to be
the sole of Burningman. Or maybe at least, it's feet. There seemed
to be fewer of these contraptions. But every year is different.
The one at left was very ingenious. It just had a couple of little
problems. It had rack and pinion steering and a futon sofa bed.
All of the home made contraptions need lots of work to keep them going.
Each inventor was a little sensitive about how well their contraption
worked.
Even the expensive golf carts and ATVs didn't work that well onthe
playa. The roads were very rough this year. And where there were no
pot holes there was deep pockets of moon dust. Particles the size
of cigarette smoke, composed of caustic hydrogen peroxide often pick
up in winds of 100 miles per hour. No wait, I was thinking of Mars.
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I was thinkning
of trying out this idea. It looked like a lot of fun to ride. It seemed
to work. Both people steer. Navigation is accomplished by telepathy,
similar to a flock of birds changing direction all at once. I wonder
if he had problems with that incredible rear axle? That took some
engineering. |