Next Level Geeks

I have attended a fair number of conventions over the years.  All of those conventions had their share of obsessed members.  People who were so intensely, and passionately involved in their crafts it was above and beyond hobby or career but instead flirting with the term insanity.  There have even been times in my life where I edged into that spectrum myself.  But I have never seen anything like these people.  This con, when it was over, was nearly indescribable but I am going to try my best.

Friday, day one, was badge hacking.  That was it.  Everyone was programming or soldering parts onto their boards.  But mostly they were talking and sharing information.  Much different from my next closest obsessive-attendee experience,  the Defcon Hackers convention in Las Vegas.  Those people don’t like to share information openly at all.  As a funny aside, since I brought up DefCon, when I was in Phoenix, my host-driveway-owner asked me if this conference I was attending was a “Black Hat” (code words for bad guy) hacker conference.  First off, I was surprised the black hat terminology had made it into the mainstream but I would unequivocally say no, Supercon a propeller hat conference.  

The real difference is at Defcon there is an overwhelming degree of intellectual snobbery.  Asking questions is more than likely going to get you an eye roll and encouragement to “RTFM”, all the while facial expression of arrogant annoyance with your foolishness.

I can say all of this, knowing in the Defcon playing field, I can sort of hold my own.  I have been in IT Security for twenty plus years.  I don’t ask the questions of a moron.  So it was amazing how different Supercon was.  I only learned about micro controllers a couple of years ago.  I spent the first couple of days asking people questions even I knew were dumb.  You know what I got?  Without exception I got a person who was excited to share with me everything they knew about what I asked, plus a bunch of apologies that they didn’t know more, but some advice about resources.  It was incredible how open and sharing every single person I talked to was.   

As an umbrella comment I couldn’t help but notice how much 3-D printing has changed so many prototype projects.  From LED dragon scales  sewn on to your shoulders to Ironman helmets.  Many small projects were able to be made to look so professional with looking parts or enclosures.  The folks that put on Supercon distribute a 3D printer file for the badge circuit board.  Many arrived at the con with enclosures pre-printed.

It was just cool to see and hear about so many things but some of my highlights were… 

A talk by a team of people who came into position of a one of the original Apollo guidance computers which were used in both the capsule and LM.  The one they acquired had never flown but just the time of kicking around and natural degradation made it a big job.  They restored it to working order.  I missed the first half but the second half was quite amazing.  It used a very old type of computer memory that hasn’t been in use since the invention of the transistor.  

A great talk by a pilot who encouraged people to join the Experimental Aircraft Association.  He had built his own plane and explained how it is a machine you then fully understand.  Because of this you get the latitude from the FAA to add features and accessories other pilots can only dream about.  An example was some 3D printed parts as stall detectors.  Installing something like that on your factory Cessna, due to FAA regulations, is impossible.  But on an experimental aircraft it is no problem at all.  It is an experiment, is it not?

I talked to a guy who connected a wire to each one of his guitar frets, and a ground wire to the bridge of an electric guitar.  Now by installing a current sensor on each wire he can determine what fret is being played.  He can then program a microcontroller to make some decisions based on the fret.  For instance one effect peddle when the upper neck and being played, a different effect for the lowers.  It was an interesting project.

Addressable LEDs in a lite flexible format.

There were several talks regarding textiles.  From robotic-companion stuffed toys to 3-D printed, fabric covered balls and toys.  But one I found particularly interesting was involving the improvements made to individually addressable (WS2812) LEDs.  I have used these types of LEDs in clothing projects but they were big and clunky.  I modified a unicorn pajama/onesy costume with a built in microphone so the LEDs with flash with the music and change color depending on the average frequencies.  …I looked badass in it, btw.    I also worked with my friend, The Seamstress,  who made herself a skirt with fiber optics to attend the Lady Gaga concert.  I did the programming using the LEDs to just do a revolving color spectrum.  Again, they were bulky.  No woman really wants to add four inches to her waistline even if she knows they are just LEDs.  The new ones I saw were tiny and super flexible.  I wrote The Seamstress from the presentation and told her we *have* to use these for something!

The microcontroller bartender

Bartenders are great people but sometimes you just don’t have the money to hire them for an event you want to host.  You want basic drinks served.  Nothing fancy.  That was the spark to lead a team to build an automated drink maker.  It used peristaltic pumps controlled by a micro controller.  The idea was, put ice in your glass, set it under the nozzle, push a button for your selection and the machine would dispense correct proportions of drink and mix. You aren’t going to get “shaken, not stirred” from this device but you want a rum and coke?  Bada-bing, you got it. 

I met a woman from Minnesota who works with a company building self contained pollution monitoring boxes.  This is something I know a little about.  I have worked with pollution data for years.  I got to tag along on a couple of times  in the early days.  Back when a pollution monitoring station was the size of a large garden shed.  It had to have electricity run to it and if possible landline telephone service.  The station would collect the data from the VOC/SO2 monitors and transfer it back to the home office via modem once per day.  

Particulate (dust/dirt/smog) monitors were only monitored weekly.  We had very, very accurate scale we would use to weigh a piece of filter material, install it, come back in a week and swap it out and weigh the old one.  Using this method we could determine how much particulate matter 10 microns and larger, were in the air.   Here was this woman holding something, roughly an eight inch cube, that by only adding a few extra parts inside of it, could do everything an entire building of equipment used to do.  She was there with her boss and the two of them were attempting to hack their badges to be an environmental monitor.  They asked me to get involved…Ok, ok, this sounds geeky, I happened to have a particulate pollutants monitor with me in the van.  I was too involved in the talks though and didn’t really have the time.

I met a guy named Eric Grey and joked with him about us having the same last name.  I called him Mr Grey every time I ran into him from that point forward.   He did a badge hack where he reprogrammed the micro controller installed on the badge and allowed you to switch into a mode where using the buttons, you could play the classic arcade game, Astroids.  Amazing!

My lame-ass badge hack.  Display the
temperature and humidity.

I walked away from this con knowing with absolute certainty I will return next year.  I have never been to one with this degree of open welcomeness.  Such a support structure for helping others succeed.  

Geeks. Geeks everywhere!

The reason for my long drive over the past two weeks is the Hack-a-Day Supercon in Pasadena.  I have been following the web site from which this springs for a couple of years.  This year when I was planning my escape from what I used to consider normal, I ran across their convention in a convenient time block for me.

When I started the van build I had grand plans for its computerization.  I had just discovered SBC’s, single board computers.  These are, just as they are named, an entire computer all built on a single circuit board.  They are small!  But as many users attest, frustratingly millimeters too large to fit into an Altoids tin.  They are called cute names like Raspberry Pi, and I wanted to collect all sorts of data from my van life.  I wrongly assumed because they were small they wouldn’t consume much power.  First, I had video surveillance.  Like your Ring doorbell I had built essentially the same thing for less than $20 each.  I had two up in the cab, one out the side window, one in the back.  All these were running cameras and I had a view of what was going on outside. 

It didn’t stop there.  I have solar panels on the roof.  I bought a solar charge controller capable of putting out a continuous data stream of how much electricity was being collected.  I had another collecting GPS data including heading, pitch and yaw of the van.  Merging all of this data would allow me to build a heat map of my popular parking spots.  I would know where exactly to park to capture the most solar energy on my panels.

It was a short lived experiment. I couldn’t believe the amount of battery power those things consumed.  In the span of a cloudy day or two I had used all my battery power.   An amount I had calculated (without the computers) to last me ten days.

I was bummed.  Technology always falls just shy of dreams.  I suppose that is inherent to the process.

I gave up for a long time.  Then comes 2020.  Not much to do.  I started learning about micro controllers.  These tiny little computers are programmed to repeat single tasks.  But if you program them cleverly, those tasks can be quite complex.  

One of my first projects was sparked by font size.  My house had one of those fancy thermostats with a dozen and a half buttons.  It was programmable and all this fancy stuff can be done with it.  …I mean, maybe you could do those things.  I never could figure the damned thing out.  The instructions were printed inside the lid but in about 4pt font.  I could only read it with cheaters and a bright light.  So I used micro controllers to check the temperature and if it was colder than what I had set to turn on the heat.  If it was warmer than I had set, turn the heat off.  You remember how long and boring 2020 was?  By the end of the year I had a controller in each room, I could set the temperature in the four zones of the house via my phone.  I had graphing!  It was just like buying four Nest thermostats and I only invested $30-40.  Plus, it didn’t go through batteries like I own stock in Eveready. 

Unlike the single board computers, these micro controllers use very, very little power.  Here’s how a little computer like this makes my life easier.  I don’t have a refrigerator.  A super efficient fridge like I need is a $700 expense. Plus, I would have to get tricky with how I vent it to stay stealthy.  It would be an expensive add. Money I don’t have.  

I use a cooler.  I have it sitting in a custom sized, insulated, slide out drawer.  (I can never lose this cooler!!!) I keep the cooler filled with ice.  …I say that right?  I just keep the cooler filled with ice.  That’s all I have to do.  In practice it’s tougher to monitor.  I like mayo.  I could happily eat a ham sandwich anytime it is over 60 degrees, which I have committed to be the majority of my life now.  This depends on mayo.  Non-poisonous mayo requires a good ice regimen.  Enter small computers.   I have built a micro controller and a display, with a waterproof probe, to monitor my cooler temperature.  It tells me the warmest the cooler has been in the last 24 hours and what temperature it is right now.  This cost me in the ballpark of fourteen dollars in parts.  It cost me this much because I am lazy and bought the parts from Amazon.  I bet with a little work on Ebay and Ali Express I could have done it for half as much.

I am in a whole room of people who do these same types of things to solve the problems in their lives.  Even if the mere fact that the problem exists is the problem to solve.

I am looking forward to this con.  I think it will be an interesting weekend.  The badge to get into the event is a circuit board and a second blank board. The main hall is setup with rows upon rows of soldering stations.  Day one?  Build something interesting using your badge.  I had no idea what to expect.  This certainly was not it.  I was a little bit prepared for something like this but not much.

It was fascinating watching these people come up with ideas.  One person built a proximity radar system that would display as amplitude graphs.  Another built something using some things that looked like vacuum tubes.  You know, geek stuff.  I was overwhelmed.  Tomorrow are the speakers and more badge hacking.  Pasadena is beautiful.  I am sitting at a cafe, outdoors, nine o’clock at night.  A beer in front of me.  The weather is perfect.  Life is good.

Quartzsite Episode One

It was my favorite bartender who first asked me, “Are you going to go to Quartzsite?”  I had no idea what he was talking about.   

The town of Quartzsite Arizona has a population of twenty four hundred and thirteen full time residents. But starting about now until the end of March a million people will have spent at least one night calling Quartzsite home.  A significant number spend the whole season.  

I’ll tell you right up front I am going to spend another two or three nights in the town on the return trip so take all the complaining that follows with a grain of salt.  All in all, so far anyway, my Quartzsite experience was not a good one.  I had a not great interaction with a bartender (a profession I generally hold in high esteem).  I put a coaster on top of my beer bottle while I stepped outside to attend to an urgent Pokémon issue.  I thought this was universal bartender language. Evidently not. 

The memorial for Hi Jolly, one of
Quartzsites founders.

The second problem, just a few minutes later, I stepped into The Outback Pizza bar and landed at a table close to the front. I had just been the driveway guest of some Diamond Back fans.  The game was on and I was watching for their sake.  Bases were loaded, it was looking good.  I looked at my phone for a moment and it was all over.  As a Vikings fan I can commiserate.   Anyway, service sucked at The Outback.  I ended up not eating there, to discover at 7pm my only remaining choice for food was McDonalds.  Luckily I had some indian leftovers.

People don’t go there for the service anyway.  They go for the experience.  The most common reason people go to Quartzsite year after year is because they went once.  They were hooked.  I guess I am just not hooked yet.

Inside Gem World

One of the other reasons people go is for rocks.  There are dozens of rock shops, actually rock warehouses in one case.  Plus several outdoor vendors on the edges.  In the center of town there is something akin to a farmers market for rocks.  I will hit that on the return trip.  I guess thousands of rock vendors descend on Quartzsite the last week in January.

I have a summertime project that could really use some attractive rock so I was very interested in seeing what the shops had.  My first stop was Gem World, right as I came into town.  It was frankly, overwhelming.  Thousands of square feet of shelves filled with rocks.  Pricing, when it is marked at all, is by the pound.  How’s your pound guestimator?  I known mine is totally useless.  

It wasn’t until the next day when I returned I picked out several.  Gem World seemed unwilling to haggle at all but other places were more open to it.  —And tended to be cheaper to begin with.  I think I bought at four more of the indoor shops and they seemed very willing to discount.  …And trust me, I am an amateur grade haggler at best.  The rocks all of these shops were in some cases amazing.  The largest geodes I have ever seen in my life.

As my final stop I pulled into one of the outdoor rock markets just off main street where I dealt with Kreacher of the rock world.  Not unlike a house elf he was a very small man. Made even smaller by his posture, hunched over, his head almost touching his stomach.  He constantly muttered.  I didn’t think it was English at first, or even directed at me.  Then I realized he was telling me the general prices (nothing was marked) and complaining about how few people stop.  Once I had picked some rocks out and agreed on a price with him he was muttering about how angry “the boss” was going to be.  In one of his mutterings he claimed the boss had paid eighty dollars just for one of the rocks I was buying.  I wasn’t paying anything near that for the four rocks I had picked out.  In all of this grumbling I could only hear Kreacher mumbling how angry his mistress would be. 

I did technically park on the BLM land but it was only about a mile out of town and even less distance from Interstate 40.  Even inside the van I heard the constant roar of the freeway.  It was my fault.  When I arrived I got distracted by rock shops, beer, and hopes of pizza.  It was dark when I started looking for a place to park.  There was no stealthing in town.  Everywhere was marked no parking.  My van can totally fool the typical townie.  But in Quartzsite these people were experts at spotting vehicles people sleep in.  Being lazy, I checked at one of the close to sixty RV parks in town but they wanted $54 a night.  No way.  

Once you are off the road, in the dessert of BLM land there are only paths.  Totally fine during the daytime.  At night I had no idea where I was going.   So I went a short distance and gave up.  Still, it was interesting and I do want to try it again.  It will be interesting how many more will have arrived by the time I return in a couple of weeks.   I left Quartzsite mid afternoon bound for Pasadena and hoping to miss heavy traffic.

Too Heavy to Coast

I really hate Google Maps. This spring I drove to Phoenix from Santa Fe.  Prior to this trip I had only ever really driven the BV on flat ground.  The great plains states.  Driving in my blissful ignorance, Google led me on a route with 7-9% downward grades.  I had no idea how to drive a van this heavy down a slope like that and I burned out the brakes.  Warped rotors, I guess.  I don’t know anything about auto mechanics.  All I know is, it cost me $600 to make it all better.  

Fast forward.  This trip I knew the route I want to take.  It’s the way I returned from Phoenix the last trip.  Not the shortest by any means, I drove through Tucson and across through White Sands.  One short exciting part a couple hours east of Tucson.  But this time I would be climbing it.  Otherwise it would be flat.  I was confident.

The night before I had stayed in a bar parking lot.  I asked them, “If I drink too much, can I leave my van in your parking lot?” The answer was a definite yes.  It’s all in the wording of the question.  “Can I sleep in my van in your parking lot?” Might not have gotten as enthusiastic of an answer.  Plus, he doesn’t know I am a two beer drinker.  It was a good spot.  Once the bar closed down it was super quiet and I felt totally safe.

In the morning after coffee, I slid into the pilot’s seat, and plugged my address into Google Maps.  It gave me three options.  The first, the super scary way I went the last time.  Then one other route that looked pretty good most of the way, but then some maybe dodgy stuff at the end.  Then the route I wanted to go.  I pressed on route three (Google told me it was an hour and forty one minutes longer) and pressed start.  All good right?  I hadn’t moved fifty feet before I got a popup.  “Google Maps has found a shorter route, Do you want to take it?”  What’s worse, if you don’t answer it reroutes you.   It is *this* one little *default* at the base of my hate.

I drove, and every few minutes I would get the popup.  I had to look away from the road …down into the cup holder where my phone rides… remove a hand from the wheel and push the button to keep the route I wanted.   I don’t know how it happened. There were some hot air balloons over Albuquerque and I pulled over to look at them.  I think it must have asked the reroute question when it noticed I was gone.  Anyway, I didn’t realize it until too late.  I was not on the scariest road but I was on the scary enough road.  I passed through salt river canyon.  Sorry I don’t have any pictures.  I just wanted to get through it.  A quick glance and a “that’s pretty cool” was all it got.  

The first night I landed in Tucson just a couple blocks away from a venue where I saw a band.  From a coffee shop and a pizza the next day.  I was really impressed.  It was a cool town.  They had done a lot of revitalization work to their original downtown.  It was artsy and funky.  I enjoyed it.  The only down side of it was I parked right next to a bright pink dumpster. I did not realize the significance of this. It was a glass recycle dumpster! Did you know, a city full of people throw away glass at all hours?  I do!  

The next day I rolled into Phoenix.

There was a guy I wanted to meet up with.  But here’s the thing… When I actually wrote it down in a group text message while I was walking to the bar I realized the absurdity of the situations I find myself in.  I just wrote a text message saying “I am about to meet up with some random dude I met in the pub this spring. A guy who gave me tamales.” 

Honestly I think the real danger was the sidewalk getting to the place.  Narrow and right next to traffic moving at speeds above 45mph.

My last visit I had planned on going to a tap room but when I got there it was closed!  I was in luck though.  There was a head shop right next door.  Those people who work in those places always know everything!  They had me steered straight away.  They pointed me to Rum Runner Bar where I met the tamale guy.  I walked away that night with the best tamales I had ever had! 

The pub dog at Rum Runners.

Rum Runners was just as fruitful this trip.  I ended up chatting with a HVAC guy who told stories of the record 2023 heatwave in Phoenix.  He said his business, with the number of employees they have, has a perfect number of clients. That number is seven hundred.  With seven hundred customers it generates the perfect number of service calls to keep all his workers busy without being overloaded.  This summer he was getting seven hundred service calls a day.   He talked about how the manufacturers don’t even make systems rated to meet the cooling needs Arizona now has.  How now he has to cobble systems together.  But even then, the systems are not made to run at 100% capacity that many days in a row.  It was a fascinating talk.   And (!) I got lots of restaurant suggestions!  …Oh, the previous year of record heat? 2020. 

Later  the Tamale Guy arrived. It was great seeing him again.  Talking food and a bunch of my tall tales.  He is idolizing the van life these days.  He promises I will see him out on the road.  I hope he is right. He is a good guy and I sure hope he brings the tamales!  

Let's Call This The Halloween Edition

I woke up, wide awake, at 5:00am.  I was a time zone over at this point and so I suppose the body was claiming it to not be entirely out of line. I needed to log into work at nine but rather than just hang out in the van I decided to get on the road for a couple of hours.  It was beautiful driving.  Much better than the rainy night before.  Beautiful country at first, but then moving into perfectly flat land, vast farm fields and trains it took miles to pass.

A couple of hours later I was passing through Kansas and I started to watch for a town to come up.  There were not many but finally at a bend in the road there one was.  I got off the highway and drove around a bit.  It seemed like a quiet little town but it was  early.  No shortage of parking spots. I pulled into a side street shaded by a building to keep the van cool, but good visibility to the north for my satellite dish.  By exactly 8am I was parked beside the Rexford Kansas post office. Starlink dish on the roof of the van and not really thinking at all about what was outside my steel walls.  It was a town.  Just as anonymous to me as I was to it.  

Lunchtime came and I remembered seeing a sign for a diner. I thought I would sample the local fare. It was after piling out of the van and walking around I realized the downtown was essentially abandoned.  There was not a single open business on the entire main street.  Instead there was religion.  A church owns every building and the town seems to be converted to a bible camp.  I got a whole Children of the Corn vibe going on in my head.  I  packed up and got out.

I have to admit, rolling into essentially a ghost town and trying to blend in wasn’t really even on my event horizon to think about.  I thought the town seemed quiet.  Empty didn’t even occur to me. 

World's Friendliest Bar

Yesterday was a long day of driving.  I completed my South Dakota residency and got my drivers license.  I worked for a few hours and then I hit the road.  Mist and rain fell almost the entire time.  The BV (as named by number two son for “Big Van”) has its share of problems as any vehicle creeping up on three hundred thousand miles will have.  One of those problems is I don’t have high beams.  Or, I should say, I have them but they are one way in operation.  Once I hit the switch for the brights they are stuck that way until I turn off the ignition.  Even using them is risky.  I am told by my mechanic it is a known defect in older Chevy Express vans.  She told me it is also possible, when I hit the high beams, I can lose all lights and be coasting because the main controller board fries.  This is an eight hundred dollar part that is difficult and expensive to have installed.  So for this reason I am also very leery of pushing any button or switch I don’t use regularly.  …Especially at night.

With no high beams, traveling in the rain on thin, unfamiliar Nebraska roads, I was doing what I often do.  I allow someone around me and then stick to them like glue.  This is what I did for over an hour.  Trailing along behind a pickup truck with nice bright lights.  Being very tired yet realizing I was making really good time.  Over and over I said “Ok, that’s it.  I am going to stop at the next town.”  Only to be replaced with, “maybe one more”.  I was becoming more firm in my resolve to stop.  The argument was academic once I reached Holdrege.  The torch I was following pulled down a side street just inside the city limits and I was on my own.  Issue decided, I was going to stop.

When I arrive in a new town my goal is to find a side street just off the business district.  It is in those areas my van will blend in the best.  The people in houses assume the van is associated with one of the businesses and I plan on being on the road again before the business opens.  No one will alert the authorities to a suspicious vehicle.  Perfect.

But Holdrege proved difficult in this respect.  All of the downtown streets were no parking after 2am.  What I did find however was a large parking lot located behind the dry cleaners with a number of cars parked in it.  It was after nine PM and I didn’t see any temporary places the owners of these cars could be.  I suspected they were the cars of the people living in the area and they wouldn’t be leaving until morning.  Still, due diligence is what has kept me from complications in the past.  I wasn’t taking any chances.  I parked the van, got out and took a walk around.  I checked every entrance to the parking lot for signs listing restrictions.  Nothing.  I walked around to the front of the dry cleaners to see if there were any businesses open and these were customer cars.  Nothing was open.  It doesn’t happen often but I found the rarest of hens’ teeth, off street, free, overnight parking.  I think it was this good fortune that sealed the destiny of the rest of the night.  To celebrate, rather than crawling in and sleeping I pulled out my phone and searched “bars near me”.

I knew there was a pretty good chance I would get nothing.  Some parts of the country (as mind boggling as this is to a former Wisconsin resident) are dry.  No liquor available.  I wasn’t going to fire up the BV again.  It already had a long day.  I needed someplace close enough to walk in the misty/rain. Happily Google found two options, my first choice, a brew pub, was closed.  But then the second, named "The Drive", seemed perfect for my circumstances.  I didn’t know it referred to golf, I had a chuckle and setoff.

I learned a lot about Holdrege just walking in the door.  Every head in the place swiveled toward me.  Ah… Got it.  Small town.  For the briefest of instants I was able to read minds.  Every person in there thought “Who’s that guy?”.  I ordered a local IPA and settled into a table away from the bar and people.  I figured I would drink my beer, play some Pokemon and watch the locals.  My plan went off track in less than five minutes.

A tall stocky fellow, beer in hand, approached my table.  “Who’r you?” For a moment I wondered if there was a chance this could go poorly?  I have heard stories of hippies ending up in jail but I thought that was the Deep South, not smack dab in the middle.  My worries were unfounded.  It was just a case of beer induced brevity. 

The guy was very friendly and curious.  I laid out the Cliff Notes version of my life right now.  An act I repeated for almost an hour.  I am not homeless, I am houseless.  Lost virtually everything in a divorce and now I live the van life.  I work online and travel to where the weather is nice.  My new friend was amazed.  “Oh my god, there’s a guy you gotta meet!” and he rushed off.  It turned out to be Eric, one of the owners.

A kindred soul, Eric lives much the same life I do, just the high class version.  He owns a financial investment firm and travels all around the country.  He uses jet planes and hotels instead of rubber wheels and dark parking lots, otherwise we are very similar.  But Eric was only the first of a string of additional visitors to my table.  He was soon followed by nearly every person in the place.  I met his wife, Beth, co-owner of the bar.  She is a Boston native who wanted to bring a classy city bar to the breadbasket.  (She succeeded!) I met a local restaurateur who I was told makes the best steak in the entire country.  —A claim nearly good enough to draw me back.   I met Eric’s mother who he attributes his wanderlust to.  She often travels Italy so we hand a brief conversation about our favorite spots.  I joined the whole bar in a complementary, very tall, shot of Fireball to celebrate someone’s birthday. I heard dozen’s of encapsulated life stories and loved every one of them.

It was a fun night.  I had a really great time.  Eric complained Holdrege was a town of 5,000 with only 500 who would consent to be seen drinking in public.  He said, “I just want to go into their houses and shake them!  They could be having so much more fun if they would just come out and be social!”.  If those people ever do, The Drive Bar would be the perfect place for them to visit.  By the power invested in me by the Society of the Rubber Tramp I designate The Drive to be the friendliest bar in the world.  Someday I hope to return.

Walking down the darkened street after leaving, the amused cynic in me did think, “I wonder if they treat all homeless people like this?”

If I was to voice a complaint, (those of you who know me would doubt if this is the real thing if I didn’t) I wish they would do a little work on the acoustics.  The bar is all hard surfaces and everyone in the place was shouting.  The music wasn’t even that loud.  It was just all that sound bouncing around.  They have only been open a little over a year so maybe that is in the plan. 

Poof

People have noticed this blog has gone quiet.  I wrote the following post almost a year ago but never got around to hitting publish.  Waiting on the polish to a couple of the paragraphs that just never came.  Well I pulled out my buffing cloth tonight and got it done.  A year ago I wrote:

Life has changed again.  Three years ago I was a happy telecommuter.  Waking up each morning and by way of the coffee pot, heading to my desk to work a full day plus.  Five days a week this was my schedule.  I was a super dedicated employee putting in extra hours and loving my job. One management change later (along with some details that make an amusing story now) and the pendulum swung all the way the other direction.  I was a burned out public employee, sitting in an office cubical ninety miles away from my home and family five days a week and living in a van.

The thing about public employment is it strongly favors hanging in there when big change happens.  Because change, has an incredibly hard time sticking in the land of we-bees.  New management can come in with big ideas but in an institution as old as our country, it is the people in the trenches that understand what needs to be done and how to get it there.  That’s where the expression comes from.  The we-bees.  “We be here when you got here, we be here when you leave.  It is the we-bees that make government work.” That’s my story.  A few months ago there was some rumbling about a hiring binge and running out of space in our building.  I sent the division director my idea for a brilliant solution (let us work from home!) but was firmly slapped down.  Time went by and harsh reality set in to the tie wearing crowd.   Suddenly, the division director had a brand new idea.

I still have to be in the office two days a week, maybe moving to one day before the snow flies again.  The week long van-life phase of my existence is over.  I have been here before, back twenty years ago when I first started working from home.  The amount being done while at the office becomes less and less until it is a hang around socializing day until bosses figure out time is being wasted.  Then maybe our new policy will lighten up even more.

My first work at home… I will be quite honest with you was actually kind of rough. 

It is crazy, how I have lived here in my big city three years.  I have made a life for myself over here.  It wasn’t so much out of desire for all of these activities but more a matter of just filling the empty space.  I am a great filler of empty space.  So now, I find myself in some ways missing all of this stuff.

That doesn’t even begin to address The Wife at home who has lived as a single mom.  Hating it, and yet she has done the same thing.  Building a routine and now finding out a major disruption to that routine is coming back home.  So we are now working these details and compromises out.  Bringing our lives back together. 

I call this "Parking - Level Master"

Today is the first day of week three of my telecommuting again and through lots of communication we have figured out how to make this all work.  It has been great not having to deal with the every day stress of living away. 

I have to believe, I owe my sanity, continued employment, and happy marriage to a white van.  I could have never done it otherwise.  It was never perfect, but I have had a home away from home.  I place an introvert can recharge.  A cheap place to live in a land of thousand dollar apartments.  Our credo of “making it work” allowed me to keep working, keep the family insured, living and having a place to call home.

The freedom of van life will be impressed upon me for the rest of my days.  The ability to open my front door and find myself exactly where I wanted to be has been amazing.  A park, a coffeeshop, a bakery, anyplace an invisible white service van could park was my home for the night.  Maybe someday I will live again as a nomad.  Or, maybe I never will.  But for two years and one month I have been able to live this life, and all things considered… it wasn’t bad.