And the Match Goes On

I am not a golfer! Nor do I ever want to be one—but—

I live in Arizona about 3 miles from where the Accenture Match Play Tournament is presently taking place.

Why live in Arizona in a location surrounded by golf courses? To enjoy and appreciate the beauty of God’s works:

The plants:

 

 

 

 

The wildlife:

javelina herd     

The sunsets—there’s no way I can top the picture heading my blog.

Here in Marana, golf rules. Millions of dollars are made by the golf courses, hotels, restaurants, gas stations, etc.

The anticipation prior to the Accenture—Will he show up—? Is he here yet—? How did he do today—?The he– is Tiger Woods. 

The Tiger finally arrives, on the television the world is watching him practice.

The next day the match begins. The Tiger is scheduled to tee off at 10:35AM. Many of the spectators are making moral judgments—Does he deserve to win?—Has he paid for his sins—? Those are not our judgments to make. He is still the Tiger.

Back to the match, I know it has begun by the sounds of encouragement emanating from the living room. My wife who knows less about golf than I do is cheering him on. He scrapes by to win on the first day.

Will he survive the next match? Despite fighting to survive—he loses. There are mixed emotions—cheers for the winner—respectful silence for the Tiger.

It’s over for him, after the exit interviews, he fades away—will he return next year—? Maybe!

The match goes on!

Computer — Valued Treasure or Overvalued Pleasure

I’m starting a new blog today on another favorite topic–Computers–Love them or leave them.

I admit it, I’m a computer nerd. During my entire career I worked in main-frame computer related fields. Then the personal computers began to appear:

  • The TRS-80
  • Altair
  • Macintosh
  • IBM PC
  • Commodore 64

I wanted one badly; I didn’t have a good reason other than it was a breakthrough in technology and I love technology. Several of my friends were buying various models. They were just too expensive, at least for me (Macintosh Plus $2599, IBM PCs’ in the same price range).

Then a poor decision by Coleco (yes the same company that made Cabbage Patch Dolls) made it possible for me to purchase my first computer.

Coleco had introduced a very innovative computer called the Adam, priced at a comparatively reasonable price of $600. Unfortunately some of the early models had problems. Coleco either was too slow to react or didn’t recognize the seriousness of the situation. The public turned against Coleco and branded the Adam unreliable. Coleco dumped their entire inventory to the discount stores. I was able to purchase my system including Motorola RGB monitor for $350, even I could afford that.

 

What made the Adam innovative:

  • Equipped with a letter quality daisy wheel printer
  • Used TV as a monitor or optional RGB monitor
  • Two tape drives with digital search capability
  • 80K Ram
  • 3 expansion slots
  • Cartridge slot that accepted all Coleco game cartridges
  • Capable of operating under CP/M OS which would run Wordstar, Lotus, dBase

One of my favorite features about the Adam was that it powered up in word-processing mode. There was no wait for an OS to load and then wait for an application to load. Just turn it on and start working.

I liked this computer so much that in later years I purchased additional Adam units for anywhere from $50 to $100. I wanted to share my good fortune with all of my friends and proliferate the wonders of the Adam.

When Coleco went bankrupt and withdrew all technical support, User support groups popped up all over the world. Some of the more active groups in addition to those in the US were located in England and Canada. I was the editor of the newsletter for the St. Louis Adam Users Group or (SLAUG).

Annual conventions were held to socialize and share knowledge. Unbelievably, twenty years later these conventions are still taking place.

I hope I didn’t bore you but after twenty-five years I’m still passionate about my first computer, the Coleco Adam.

How about all of you readers, what were your first computers?

Are you as emotional as I am?

 

The First Car…

The last time we chatted, I was going to tell you about my first car and I hit a patch of nostalgia and spun out. Maybe I’ll make it today.

I’ve already established how important a car is to the physical and emotional needs of a young boy (er, I meant young man). Although most men learn to physically control and master the mechanics of driving a car, many of us never gain control of the emotional affect induced by cars.

 

My first car was a 41 Plymouth coupe. It was maroon blending to rust, the chrome was a little pitted, but still shiny, the interior was in pretty good shape.

The best feature was that for $50 it was mine. Mine!

Apollo never had a finer chariot when he raised the sun each morning. It was my access to adulthood.

My friends and acquaintances know that I am ostentatious bordering on pomposity.

Okay, I heard someone in the back whispering, “How can you be ostentatious or pompous when you own a 41 Plymouth in 1955?” Yes, I heard you! You know who you are and so do I.

Seat covers might dress it up. I bought a set of rolled and pleated seat covers (if you don’t know what that means) take my word, they were cool. The seats had a red and black diamond pattern with black vinyl trim and channel stitching running down the back. I paid $75 for the seat covers.

That was more than the car cost, but they would totally renovate the car. I spent a Saturday installing them.

When I was through I opened all of the car doors to display the renewed interior. I stood back, walked around to the other side of the car, got into the back seat and looked at the stitching on the seatback, got into the front seat, felt the sooth sleek seats, shook my head and realized sadly that it was still just a 41 Plymouth.

Paint, a new paint job; that would do it.

At the time I was working in a paint store. I bought some black enamel and borrowed an electric sprayer. This wasn’t a compressed air sprayer operating on electricity; it was simply a jar with a spray nozzle that plugged into an outlet.

I drove my car over to my father’s house and parked it in the garage. My stepbrother and I began the prep work, sanding off the rust and wiping the car down.

I filled the paint reservoir (otherwise known as a jar) with paint, plugged the sprayer into an outlet, and slowly squeezed the trigger, nothing happened. I checked the sprayer and realized that I had not opened the sprayer’s orifice. I adjusted the nozzle and once more squeezed the trigger. The sprayer sputtered and spit a blob of paint followed by drips, drops, and finally a mist. By evening the paint job was finished. I walked home and impatiently waited until the next day when I could view the results of our effort.

The next morning I slowly opened the door of the garage. The car was black, but it didn’t shine. I touched it, it felt like sandpaper, I turned the light on and saw that the surface was gritty, looking closer I saw dust embedded in the finish.

Now I knew why painting was performed in a closed off spray booth. After extensive smoothing with steel wool and a second coat, it still didn’t look any better.

Several months later I got an offer to buy it and accepted. Thus ended the saga of my first car.

Don’t fret I’ll have other car stories.

What was your first car like?