Archive for September, 2004
Can you smell what the bus is cooking? For a group of students from Middlebury College in New Jersey, it smells an awful lot like fried chicken. The students are on a cross-country tour to promote fuel alternatives and the environmentally friendly biodiesel bus, which runs on vegetable oil.
The students actually have two vehicles: the bus that runs on biodiesel, an alternative fuel made from refined vegetable oil that’s available at some gas station pumps; and a support car with a modified engine allowing it to run on used vegetable oil.“Yesterday, we filled up at a Chinese restaurant,” said Kyle von Hasseln, 22.
Well I think you saw this one coming. Yes, no longer will I repress the urge to share blow-by-blow (or grow-by-grow as the case may be) coverage of my favorite sport: Competitive Chia Farming. Oh I know what you’re thinking. Good GOD! Is it safe? Is it legal? My friends, it’s all that and much, much more.
The Matchup: Chia Kitty vs. Chia Mr. T
This is going to be a tough one to call, Chia Kitty already has one coat under her belt, but Mr. T is ready to pity the fool at every turn. Who will claim this round and become the reigning Chia Champion?
Mr. T: “I ain’t gonna take none of your jibba jabba, foo’ cat!”
Chia Kitty: Mrrow!
And they soak!
While our contestants soak overnight to prepare for this gruelling match, we’ve prepared identical containers of chia seeds, which are also pre-soaked to create a gel-like paste. This will help the seeds cling to each of our combatants as we dare to ask: Who! Will! Grow! All! The! WAY!?
Please note that our contestants prefer to soak in Tupperware®. Tupperware: For the Chia in You.
Yesterday I had an appointment to get the tires replaced on my Jeep, something I’d been putting off for a while. But tires are important and I’m sure you’d agree that there’s no better way to spend a sunny and mild September Saturday morning. So off to Tire Kingdom I went.
Now let me just take this opportunity to say that I really hate taking care of things like this — car repairs, anything to do with the DMV, doctor’s appointments, standing in line at Wal-Mart — mainly anything that has to do with being poked, prodded, drained of money and being made to wait. I was determined to make the best out of the situation, so I packed a backpack of magazines, cds, a notebook and grabbed a newspaper along the way to help pass the time while I waited for the car to be done. Little did I know what adventure awaited me.
Things started out innocuously enough. Got to the tire place on time, got “checked in” and had a seat in the “lounge”. They said it would take about 90 minutes to do everything since I needed realignment. “Ok fine,” I thought. I can keep myself busy until then. Put on the headphones and listened to the mix CD that Jamelah made for me and started to read the paper. After about a half hour, one of the workers came in to ask if I had my tire key. Tire key? Well, considering I didn’t know what a tire key was*, what it looked like or where it was, I reckoned that no, no I didn’t have it. But maybe it was in with the spare? Or the glove compartment, perhaps? “We looked for it but we can’t get your glovebox open.” Right. Well the glove compartment door had been sticking lately, so I figured that it was just being stubborn again today. I had attributed it to the mini first aid kit I had shoved in there. Oh how wrong I was.
To cut to the chase, as it were, after about 45 minutes of various screwdrivers, wedges, cutting a few rivets and a lot of swearing, the glovebox was open. Oh, was it open. Actually I think the word I’m looking for is “removed”.
What’s missing in this picture?
Let’s take a closer look…
Who needs a glovebox anyway?
But hey, at least the tire key was inside. And now there is more passenger side legroom, so really, everyone wins.
Oh? Want to see the tires, you say? Well sure, here they are:
Beauties, eh?
I don’t really understand how tires can be so expensive. Sure, I know that’s a lot of rubber. Of course, there must be extensive research and testing which someone has to pay for. But seriously, what’s the deal? I’ve always suspected I’ve been in the wrong line of work, and this just confirms it. So the next time you see me, just call me Mel — you’ll know it’s me by the embroidered name tag.
*Apparently a tire key is needed to release a special lock that comes on a vehicle’s wheel. This prevents someone from stealing the rims, yo. But come on… it’s not like I have 22″ Giovannis, people.
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