After 17 years, and countless cycles of not knowing if they were “on” or “off,” my intermittent wipers have decided to take a stand:
Now, when I turn them on, they wipe the window exactly once, and then sit, sulking, at the bottom of the window, while I squint and think something must be wrong with my eyesight.
I just saw this at Kym’s place…
I didn’t marry you because you were perfect. I didn’t even marry you because I loved you. I married you because you gave me a promise. That promise made up for your faults. And the promise I gave you made up for mine. Two imperfect people got married and it was the promise that made the marriage. And when our children were growing up, it wasn’t a house that protected them; and it wasn’t our love that protected them – it was that promise.
So I was reading Boing, Boing, as I do sometimes, and came across their post about guys on bicycles that sharpen knives. Now, that’s cool enough in itself, but somebody named Richard wrote in with this little bit:
There’s a fellow named Chuck that lives at the end of Zion Road in Gambier, OH. He’s crazy about bikes… loves building recumbent chop-jobs, including a tandem recumbent for him and his wife. Anyway, I went over to his place one day to see about getting a spoke replaced, and I saw this most peculiar contraption… the bike powered belt sander… a stationary recumbent bike with that powers a sander at arms-reach. He uses the sander to take broken pieces of mirror and fashion them into rear-view mirrors to clip on bike helmets, among other things. A lot of people around here say that he invented the clip-on mirror. I choose to take that statement at face value.
Now that is cool, because probably ten years ago I bought one of Chuck’s mirrors, based only on an internet description. You clip it to your glasses with a spoke that has been twisted around.
And what’s even better, I found it in less than a minute.
If I knew how to comment to Boing, Boing, I’d have sent them the picture, but oh well.
