Working Hard...

Burgundian scribe (portrait of Jean Miélot, secretary, copyist and translator to Duke Philip the Good of Burgundy, from a copy of his compilation of the Miracles de Notre Dame), 15th century.

After a tumultuous journey down the coast of Connecticut, through the perils of the New York Metropolitan area, and the Mad Max landscape of northern New Jersey, then the relatively bucolic settings of southern New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland, we had a day of rest. During said day of rest we celebrated the birthday of the youngest member of the tribe.

A good time was had by all, save the reason for the event who has been battling an upper respiratory thing for a couple of days. He was off his game as he's in the "getting better" stages of the viral attack. You know, when technically your body has successfully fought off the virus but you feel rather like crap as you hack up all that crap in your lungs.

He's a trooper though and while his doc has given him a clean bill of health, he's still a bit cranky with the whole thing. Even his first taste of cake, cupcake to be precise, didn't improve his morale. He seemed put off by the whole experience. "Sugar? What is this vile taste?"

Ah, he'll learn.

As for Grandpa, I'm slowly recovering from the Sandy Eggo adventure and the long drive down to these environs. I ain't as young as I used to be. Though a long nap on Saturday helped immensely. (I think that's the first nap I've had since I was a child, woke up bedraggled, yet refreshed.)

I have started the final editing of my WWII book, the working title of which is Almost a Lifetime, A Novel of World War II. That is going slowly, to say the least.

Some months back I began copying the blog episodes from Blogger's editor 0ver to Microsoft Word. This was done while I was still posting those episodes to the blog. Imagine, if you will, my chagrin when I noticed all of the varying formats contained in that Word document. Those of us who use Blogger can testify to their changing things almost at random. Not sure why they do it, but it's something I need to deal with.

I'm also editing parts of the story for continuity and to make things flow better. Posting it in serial fashion was easy but let me do things in a haphazard sort of way. No matter how hard you readers tried to keep me in line, I still find areas where I, shall we say, "colored outside the lines."

But I will say this, I am enjoying reading the story again. I had almost forgotten how I had grown to love the characters I created. There is almost real pain when one of them falls to the vagaries and violence of war. Something which I note that I haven't really been able to recreate in the book I'm currently working on. For some reason the old saying "catch lightning in a bottle" springs to mind. I do know that many authors produce one really good novel, then the rest all pale in comparison. I almost feel that way at the moment.

But I shall persevere and get this thing edited and ready for publication, whichever way I choose to go on that front. (I've heard that self-publishing doesn't really gain an author any "street cred." I'd appreciate hearing from those of you who have gone that route. I know a couple of folks who have gone that way and wonder what hurdles/perils/difficulties are in that.)

Eventually I'll get back to the new novel, which is the other book I always wanted to write. (The WWII one being the one I've been tossing around since the mid-seventies.) But be warned, the blog posts over the next few days might be kinda boring. For you see, I'm kinda busy...

Now, back to work.

Oh My Aching Back...

Yup, traffic sucked on Thursday...
(Source)

Departed home station at roughly 0900 local, hit the tanker (Shell for automobile fuel, Dunkin' Donuts for Sarge fuel) between 0900 and 0930. We were firmly outbound and on track by 0930. The navigator¹ predicted about a six and a half hour trip.

I want a shot of whatever it is she's drinking.

"Hey, let's take the Merritt Parkway." she suggested.

I demurred, the last time we went that way (in late May) it had sucked. Badly. Lots of traffic, granted no big trucks, but everyone seemed to have just gotten their learner's permit. As pretty as that route is, it also sucks rather badly once you hit the city. You might get routed to the George Washington Bridge, you might wind up going through the Lincoln Tunnel.

Bottom line, I stayed on I-95 through Connecticut.

Then the navigator suggested, "Let's head north at Exit such-and-such and take the Tappen Zee Bridge." (Officially it has another name, which I refuse to use. That whole family can go suck on a grenade as far as I'm concerned.)

I thought to myself, "Why not, 'tis a pretty route?" Though it adds about ten miles to the trip, the last time we went that way traffic from the western end of that bridge down through New Jersey hadn't been all that bad. But wait, that was December.

When we got near the exit to head in that direction, traffic was backed up bumper to bumper to go that route, whereas I-95, though heavily laden with big trucks, was still moving rather well. So I said, "Eff it, I-95 and the GW it is. I'm rolling the dice today."

From all the information I had available to me, there was no good route through New York, Traffic seemed to be jammed everywhere. At least on I-95 it was a straight shot over the bridge and into New Jersey. I've done the other approaches where if you twitch or one idiot driver cuts you off, you're in downtown and scrambling to find your way out. Nope, head down, "Hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle."

Two hours later...

Yup, about two hours to get from Point A to Point B, roughly 8 miles it is, I'll let you calculate our average speed...

(Source)

But here's the thing, everyone was more or less forced to stay in their lane. People were actually, and this stunned me, waving at me to ask, yes ask, if they could squeeze in front of me. People were being (again, stunned I was) polite and accommodating. It was a very low stress situation and "what the heck," I'm on vacation.

Perhaps the gods of the road were smiling upon me as at one point I saw a trucker trying to get into the next lane over, his turn signal had been on for at least a mile, people were ignoring him. So I took action, there being a gap in traffic I pulled into the lane he sought and promptly slowed down to give him a gap to move into. He signaled his appreciation and we rolled on.

Courtesy can sometimes be its own reward.

Traffic in New Jersey was...

Well, it was New Jersey. Going from light speed down to the pace of a heavily laden grenadier then back again. But we got across in fine shape, Delaware and Maryland were nothing out of the ordinary, in fact the traffic felt almost non-existent after our experience on the Cross Bronx Expressway. (There wasn't anything "express" about it, seldom is.)

But we eventually arrived after a nine and a half hour trip. So much for the navigator's confident prediction of a trip three hours shorter than that. But hey, it's math, you're going this fast, you have this far to go, as time equals distance divided by speed (sort of), she has to make her predictions without knowledge of either traffic or road conditions.

So I don't blame her, she's a machine.

But at the end of the trip, my derriere was rather tender.

But we're in Maryland, celebrating the youngest's first full trip around the solar system and having a wondrous time.

Cheers!

¹ The Waze App on my phone. For which I use a female voice, easier to comprehend I'm told.

Cheesy...I know

DIL went and visited her Grandma.  Brought back some fascinating stuff.  Gonna take a bit to put together, but wait til Monday.

Headed South

(Source)

So if the picture doesn't tip you off, nor the title of the post, I'll lay it out for ya...

I'm traveling.

Again.

Friday is the anniversary of my youngest grandson's birth, what y'all might call his birthday (well, okay, that's what I call it as well, though technically one's birthday is the actual day one was born, the others are just anniversaries, but I digress.). His first birthday, as a matter of fact. Kind of a "big deal" in many cultures, but in Korean culture especially. You can read more about 돌잔치 (doljanchi) here.

So Maryland, here I come.

Due to the many hours I spent working in Sandy Eggo, which I could have taken as overtime or as what we call "mod time," I did elect the latter, which means I can take a week and a half off. No harm, no foul. I get paid for it as well. So I've got that going for me.

Also, not to put too fine a point on it, I'm still exhausted from all of those many hours spent working out in Sandy Eggo. I'm not as young as I once was, nor are we all. But I'm getting on in my dotage and it takes me a bit more time to recover.

Hence the time off, rather than the extra pay. I can always get more money, no one gets more time, as recent events have illustrated. (And yes, I'm still rather flummoxed by all of that. Eighteen years is a long time to my way of thinking, heck, we got Sasha and Anya when The Nuke and The WSO were still in college! Sorry girls, but it was a long time ago. Heck, they're both married with children these days!)

I am looking forward to the trip and the time away from work. However, I am kind of worried about my surviving cat Anya, this will be the first time in her entire life where she will be all alone for most of the day. My next door neighbor (who has always baby-sat our cats when we're away, save one time) says she will try and spend more time entertaining Anya, but she has a life of her own. So Anya will probably do what cats do best...  Sleep.

But still, I worry.

The War in the Wild story remains on hold for the moment, as does the final editing of the WWII novel. So much to do, so little time. Word on the street has it that I'm wanted in Sandy Eggo for the next test event aboard USS Michael Monsoor (DDG 1001). Truth be told, I'm honored. I guess we did good the last time we were there. It wasn't just me, two of us went out there. Myself and a completely brilliant young engineer. Had she not been there, it would have been a dumpster fire extraordinaire. She knew the test equipment better than the people who are supposed to know those things. So we're both returning to the waterfront next month.

But just a week and change this time, much more tolerable than three weeks I'm sure.

So it's "on the road again," but unlike Willie Nelson and his compadres, whiskey will not be involved. Porter and stout will be, for sure, but not until we get there.

I'm feeling thirsty already.

See you in Maryland.

Final Flight

 

Last month saw the final flight of the last remaining air-worthy S-3B Viking.  It flew from NASA’s Glenn Research Center in Cleveland to the San Diego Air and Space Museum Annex at Gillespie Field in El Cajon CA.  The jet deserves to be in the actual museum in Balboa Park, but it's a pretty big jet and the SDASM, originally an exhibit hall for Ford during a World's Fair, wasn't designed for big jets.  Sure it's got a Hornet in there, but the Viking is a big girl compared to the lean F-18.

While she was with NASA, they used the bird as a test platform for various instruments, as well as conducting research into algae blooms in the Great Lakes, and more:

One of its major contributions was helping NASA’s aeronautical innovators define communications standards that the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) can apply to the unmanned aircraft systems for safe operation in U.S. airspace.                                Source

The Viking was decommissioned in 2009 with VS-32 as the last operational squadron, but this particular bird was transferred to NASA in 2006.  The final flight was supposed to happen a year ago, but COVID happened just before the scheduled transfer so the bird sat for a year.  Its first flight in a year was an FCF, or Functional Check Flight to certify its air-worthiness prior to coming out to San Diego.  Prior to that, the bird had been de-mil'd* to some extent, disabling the ejection seats being the biggest part of that process, and some flight instruments were removed as well.  The flight clearance for that final flight only authorized a one-way trip, with one fuel stop (El Paso), and requiring the crew to remain VFR.

They did take a slight diversion to NAS North Island, where the aircraft first flew operationally starting back in 1974.  The crew flew the Bay Approach first.  That's down the Silver Strand, cutting across just south of NAB Coronado, then up the bay, over the Coronado Bridge, then a touch and go on Runway 18.  It's a spectacular view and was my favorite approach when I was flying.  Then they circled around for another T&G on Runway 29, which is the standard pattern for NASNI based on normal winds.  That one's nice too as you fly up the beach a little, and if you're on a precision approach (PAR), right over the Hotel Del Coronado.

If this photo was taken during a PAR, it's clearly offset the lineup to runway 29, probably after the beach residents, all who built or bought well after NASNI was established, complained to the Navy and forced us to pretty much abandon any precision approaches to the airfield.  That bird is in the livery of VS-21, the Fighting Redtails, which was my first outfit.

That's the view down Coronado Beach before beginning the Bay Approach.  The video shows the flight over the Coronado Beach.  Warning- it's quite loud so I recommend you mute your speakers before clicking.

Another gratuitous Hotel Del Coronado shot.

Downtown San Diego during the Bay Approach.  Thanks to Viking Community photog and pilot Tim "Gary" McGarvey for several of these pics and the Bay Approach video.

After the farewell at NASNI, it took a short flight over the hill to Gillespie Field, one final T&G there before a final full stop.  

This is my own video of the local CBS affiliate's story, followed by the independent station's story.  The reporter is the son of a Naval Aviator and a pilot himself so he gave a far more detailed account. 

More from KUSI here.  There was quite a bit of attention for the event, with 30 or so folks at NASNI, a nice get-together at the World Famous I-Bar, and 100 or so folks at Gillespie plus the local TV stations.  Click the link for the NBC News story

That's the newly refurbished World Famous I-Bar, which is now unfortunately a Helo-bubba bar since the Vikings left.  You can see it yourself in the TOP GUN sequel later this year.  It's not the actual bar as filming in it would be quite difficult and compact, but they rebuilt it perfectly out on the beach for a bar scene you can see in one of the trailers. 

 Here's a few final shots from the final flight.  

It was a great day and a great way to say thanks and goodbye to my beloved Viking.  I was glad to see so much coverage and attention to the event.  From now on, I'll have to be content to visit the one on the Midway, the "pig on a stick" on NASNI, or a short trip out east to see this one.  

* Demilitarized

Grrrr and Greatness and other Stuff.

 Ha.  Jokes on you. It's me, Beans.  Watching the Olympics so you don't have to.

(Written on Saturday night and now it's... Tuesday, so a bit of a time warp there, but I do make my point.)

Remember a few days ago when I went off on why the Republic of China (in Taiwan) was known as Chinese Taipei because the bedwetting Chicoms were bedwetting?  Did a little research and... At one time the ChiComs had nothing to do with the Olympics.  And then Mao died and the Powers-that-Be in ugly suits decided to fake everyone else and supposedly open up and become more worldly and bribe just about every possible official in the UN and in other Non-Governmental Organizations involved in all things worldly and such.  And thus... The ChiComs came to the International Olympic Committee, that august group of objective people who are only interested in improving the world by sports and I can't even write this carp without laughing and actually that corrupt organization of idiots, philanderers, child abusers and just cretins that gladly accepted lots of under-the-table money from the ChiComs to allow the ChiComs to compete in the Olympics as long as, yes, you guessed it, the breakaway province of the Republic of Taiwan would never ever be able to compete as the independent country of the Republic of China (in Taiwan,) only being allowed to participate (even though they've been participating for a long time as the Republic of China (in Taiwan)) as Chinese Taipei.  And to make matters worse, no national anthem of the Republic of China (in Taiwan) because it's just a breakaway province of the Democratic People's Republic of China (in Beijing) so no national anthem for them, so instead, if the Republic of China (in Taiwan) playing as Chinese Taipei (because of the ChiComs, those rat bastards) win a gold medal, the Incompetents of Cash, I mean the International Olympic Committee, plays a version of the Republic of  China's ( inTaiwan) flag anthem that leaves out the annoying part that basically tells the ChiComs to "Copulate Away and Cease-to-Exist" that is abbreviated as "FOAD."

And, of course, the 1st Loser, the ChiCom, had to post some butthurt stupidity of which I won't go into now because FIRST LUZER!!!! Dur-du-Durrrrr...

Gee, here they keep telling me the Olympics has nothing to do with politics.  Hahahahahahahahaahahahaha (snort) hahahahahahaaha.

So, well, the ChiComs got second, losing to the Republic of China (in Taiwan) competing as Chinese Taipei, in badminton (the deadly sport of whacking a small dead bird between each other...) and had to suck it when the, er, uh, abbreviated and mangled Flag Anthem of NOT the Republic of Taiwan played.  Suck it, ChiComs!  Ya Rat Bastides.  Let the Republic of China compete as the Republic of China and get over yourselves.  Guess what, you're not the Middle Kingdom, haven't been since the Mongols beat you to death and took over your country and married into your ruling class, you mongrelized (or mongolized) luzers!

This flag, the Republic of China, won't ever be seen at the Olympics.

Unless sanity breaks out worldwide.

Instead...

This flag, Chinese Taipei

Because of bedwetting commies and apparently Athletes only live in Taipei or something

And they didn't get to hear this

unless sanity returns.

The National Anthem of the Republic of China (in Taiwan)

Instead they heard this

The Flag Anthem of the Republic of China (in Taiwan)

Actually a slightly modified version

Which really means... GO Republic of China!!!! WHOOOO!!!!

And on another note...

The Russians who were competing as a Committee but not as a Country (hey, Vlad, you rule a committee, snerk!) lost to the Israelis in Rhythmic Gymnastics as the supposed world best lost to a beautiful member of the IDF.  And I can't believe how teary I got when the Israeli national anthem, the "Hatikvah," was played.  Now, I love our National Anthem, and a lot of our other national songs, but the Hatikvah is so darned haunting.  Makes me cry when I hear it, all the suffering, all the fighting, all the, well, David to everyone else's Goliath.  Good job, lady!  Good job, Israel.

The Israeli National Anthem

chokes me up it does

not as much as the SSB, but...

So, well, suck it, Russia (committee, not nation, right...)

And then, watching Team Jumping Equestrian, both the semifinals and the finals, I was so struck as to the wonderful Olympics where anyone can rise above their lot in life and become stellar athletic competitors. I mean, we have the US show jumping equestrian team, which is composed of, uh, Jessica Springsteen (daughter of that idjit Bruce Springsteen) and Jennifer Gates (daughter of MicroSoft Bill Gates) in a sport where one qualifies by travelling all over the world and competing in national and international competitions on horses that cost half a million dollars and you can't even get in unless you have, well, thousand dollar boots and a fancy outfit that runs in the nature of a couple thousand, at least. (But, well, good job, girls in getting a Silver in Team Show Jumping against a very difficult field.)

But, well, all Olympic activities are open to everyone! Sure! Yep! And Politics, national and international, have nothing to do with it! Sure! Yep! Uh-huh!

That thudding noise?  Me beating my head against the wall trying to make sense of the senseless.

And, well, just because I am still an American...

Mike Rowe sings the Anthem (kinda sucks at the end, but the rest is darned good.)

Sung by the US Army Choir and band

Yes, I know, damned Yankees but it's still a great song, full of fire and hope.

(Lived in the West and the South all my life, but had people on both sides of the war.)

Gang Aft Agley...

(Source)

Just wanted to pop in for a bit, after Juvat's Monday post both Beans and Tuna have something in the hopper for your reading enjoyment, so I haven't got anything for you for a couple of days yet. And truth be told, I haven't really posted anything recently other than a few "I'm still here" posts.

While this is indeed another "I'm still here" post, the post has another intent, which is to inform all of you, the readers, that I completely lost track of time and space while out in Sandy Eggo. Working 11-12 hour days with but a single day of repose a week will do that to a person.

Not that I begrudge the time spent on the ship. I actually rather miss it. It was more the camaraderie than the work, but the work was interesting. I can't say more than that for various reasons.

Suffice to say that I had a good time. For various definitions of "good time."

But I didn't get to work on either book, which is what I implied by the title of this post. I meant to, seriously, my intentions were good. Even brought the WWII book to Sandy Eggo on a memory stick so that I would have it readily to hand. It just didn't happen, mea culpa. I would promise to "do better next time" but I know I won't. If there is a "next time" for the task I'm currently employed on.

We shall see.

Now I need to reread what I wrote for the War in the Wild series to figure out where I left off and where I was planning to go, history is my guide as to the general plot, but the characters are my own creation and, quite honestly, I've lost track of 'em. I need to mend that.

So, I'll be back shortly to continue my tale of early America.

Be seeing you...¹

¹ Which was also an oft repeated line in an old British TV series. Guess which one.