In the ongoing saga over the Quaker City Motor Works shop name, I have started a Go Fund Me in order to pay the retainer for a lawyer.
Backstory: Triumph Philadelphia/Manayunk Triumph recently changed their name to Quaker City Motor Sport. Before this was in use I had reached out to their Dealer Principal and informed him how it is amazingly similar to my shop name and that both shops are in the motorcycle biz (even with the same brand) that he should not go forth with the name, because it would cause confusion in the marketplace. Much to my dismay he has proceeded with the name change.
It is my goal that the lawyers talk and come up with an amiable settlement that does not injure either of our businesses.
I know many of you are taken back and outraged, but please do not disparage his shop or leave nasty comments on any of their social media accounts. Philadelphia is a small community and I know folks who work there and they are decent folk.
If you feel so inclined here is the link to the Go Fund Me page.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Well another Jenkintown ritual has come and passed.
By the way the Reds won. Go Red!
I gave in this year and let the kids have their own camera. I almost feel guilty. It may be digital, but the dc260 is a clunker. By the time they want to take the second shot it is finally taking the first. Need to find them a camera like my first one, an Olympus RC35.
The Story of Stuff is a 20-minute, fast-paced, fact-filled look at the underside of our production and consumption patterns…
Over a month has passed since the move back to the home office. Now I remember why I went and moved into an office in the first place. The one big positive about the office is that it isolates you from your own reality. At home it is always easy to find things to waste the better part of a day.
Another problem with the home office, is the proximity to coffee. This for many is normal and a required part of the day. The problem is normal coffee bores me. What I crave is espresso and café latté. These urges in can be easily controlled by cost and access. Walking to the coffee shop and dropping four dollars for a coffee will slow down your consumption. The problem at home is temperance.
Day one back home, I pulled the old Krups espresso machine out and within three days I had a habit. Within the month I burnt the machine out. A week of de-tox has sent me straight to Amazon and the ordering of a new Moka Express. I will miss the frothy steamed milk, but damn I need that caffeine.
After a year of sharing space with the Betatron guys we are leaving the office.
Never go to one of your wife’s favorite restaurants without her.
Sure it has been close to a year without any real posts and now I am doing two in one night/morning. This will be the first (of many) posts dedicated to photography.
Several years ago I had a class of kids doing pinholes and these are some of the results.
We used a mix of Irish Oatmeal tins and empty quart sized paint cans.
This year has been good for travel. Usually I am jetting up to New York or out to Columbus, Ohio for consulting gigs, but this year has taken me a lot farther north, south and east then ever. The real pity is that I barely get to be a tourist and look around.
Windsor, Ontario and Detroit
Sister cities as different as night and day. Windsor has more of a big town feel then an urban one compared to Detroit’s urban decay aesthetic. The differences between Canada and the US is apparent when you compare the two. At a cafe I noticed the warning label on a pack of cigarettes. 510 murders in all of Canada for 1996, that is probably just a little more then the murder rate of Detroit alone. Another unique feature of some Canadian Cities I have seen is the ability to mix strip clubs into the regular business district without creating red light districts. In Windsor I was not sure if some places were dance clubs or strip clubs (maybe both?).
Too bad I was out in the suburbs for this one. On my last day I got to wander around the Fourth Ward, it is like Chestnut Hill with more plants and trees.
I finagled being flown into Portland the day before, with my gig being down in Eugene. So, it was to the car rental then off to the coast. Sure Eugene was only 1.5 hours south, but miss the coast are you crazy? My yearning for the coast was fueled by receiving a copy of the American Motorcyclist in the mail the week before with the article “Oregon’s Coast Highway”(membership required). The coast lived up to the hype.
While out for dinner in Eugene I happened to bump in to the local scooter club (Top Dead Center SC. A good bunch of folks, next time I will make sure to make their meeting earlier.
-enough rambling for now