passwords, trips, and ramblings
What do passwords and pain have in common? They are both PIAs.
Why is it that the first thing I do with a password is forget to write it down? Oh, you are not supposed to write it down?
I know you are not supposed to publish it but if I don’t write it down, I spend hours trying different combinations of familiar things before I can do what I need done. Just like I did for the last hour or so. This time it was not just the password, it was the user name too. It is really hell when you forget your name. Even worse if you forget the URL of the place you need to use it.
I am reluctant to attribute this new found talent to age. It makes me feel better to blame it on over reliance on bookmarks and computer stored passwords. Computer assistance is great until you are caught off guard without the computer. Guess I am going to have to update my cribsheet and start using it again.
I am in Austin for the weekend. Watching reruns of Dora, Super Pets, and other assorted Noggin classics with the grandkids.
Austin is only about 200 miles south of Dallas. It is three to four hours depending on how many times you stop or are stopped. It seems a lot longer when you are actually on the road.
After the first hour on the road this time I remember commenting that it seems like we have been traveling for at least a week. I always underestimate how long it takes to get to Waco. Maybe because the signs to Waco are too optimistically placed. I am of the opinion that small towns should not be announced by a sign unless you are closer than 30 miles to the place. I keep seeing signs like 50 miles to Waco, then 40 miles to Waco. This time it seemed that there was an entire hour between the 50 and 40 mile signs. I was begining to wonder if Waco was also underway and traveling away from us to the south.
It must have been a big football weekend. I know that A&M played OU but I don’t remember who won. I am not much of a football fan. I have often thought that teams should have thier own balls so they won’t have to fight over the same scrap of pigskin. I believe they used to be made of pigskin. At least that is what they were called. Nowdays, footballs are probably made of rubber somewhere in China.
During this trip there were more than a few orange colored, temporary flags flying from car windows. Lots of orange longhorn decals all affixed to vehicles doing at least ten miles over the speed limit. Wonder why they don’t get stopped. I guess it is considered more dangerous to have a burned out brake light than to be travelling under a 95mph head of steam.
Some time ago that was me as well. Travelling at speed in the fast lane. Not exactly bumper to bumper but there was not much room between vehicles. A chain reaction pileup looking for a place to happen. You didn’t dare allow more room between vehicles. Riding bumper was the only way to let the car in front know that you wanted to pass. They, in turn sped up as that was the only way they had of letting you know they did not want you to pass.
And so it went, sometimes all the way to the ultimate destination. Safety in numbers. There was no way the highway patrol could pull over ALL of that convoy at the same time.
Nowdays I let them pass me. I am content to plod along in the right lane with the cruise control set to 65mph. Sometimes I will wave as they pass. Sometimes I will hold up all four fingers when I wave.
I have to admit that I used to be a speed freak because I enjoyed the thrill. I was never in the hurry that my speed would have indicated. No fire to go to, just having fun pretending to be a Nascar driver.
Then I discovered that my old Camry could deliver 32 miles per gallon if I drove no faster than 65mph. Back when gasoline was under 1.50 a gallon the good mpg was not that much a factor. Now, when it costs twice as much fill a tank I have discovered my miser threshold. Speeding in a convoy was costing me as much as five bucks a trip extra. More if I ended up getting stopped. So I don’t do that anymore. I leave that to the truckers.
It took me a long time to understand why truckers speed. Turns out they get paid by the mile. The more miles, the more money. The more miles per hour, the more dollars per hour. When you can make 50 bucks an hour doing 90mph compared to 30 bucks an hour doing 65mph which would you choose. The difference in speed is not going to save you the 20 bucks difference if you go slower. More importantly, it is going to cost you much less than 20 bucks more for fuel at the higher speed.
There are plenty more words in this processor but I am begining to have trouble arranging them so they make sense. Some might call this writers block. Others might not be so kind. I call it ‘thats it, I am done.’