92CelicaHalfTrac wrote:
oldsaw wrote: This deep.........
I think it is amazing that the Earth has an effective elevation change of over 12 miles.
pic because hot link thread
Wally wrote:
I grew up watching the fire department competitions. They had junior level for high school kids. Friends were competitors. I grew up in Bay Shore. Used to go to Islip to watch. They had a facility set up just for the competitions.
vwcorvette wrote:Wally wrote:I grew up watching the fire department competitions. They had junior level for high school kids. Friends were competitors. I grew up in Bay Shore. Used to go to Islip to watch. They had a facility set up just for the competitions.
Watch this from ABC Sports. I actually got to see that Vega. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YW88yRpyYes
vwcorvette wrote:Wally wrote:I grew up watching the fire department competitions. They had junior level for high school kids. Friends were competitors. I grew up in Bay Shore. Used to go to Islip to watch. They had a facility set up just for the competitions.
In reply to vwcorvette:
I appreciate that these kids are wearing helmets. I'm as against excessive safety gear as the next guy, but my little brother was on the recieving end of a BAD fire department training accident a couple years ago.
Valving was berkeleyed up on the brand new truck they were training on, and when they shut the nozzle on hose #2, pressure in hose #1 doubled. Hose #1 was being manned by a pair of 130lb high school junior girls, threw them off pretty quick and the nozzle was thrashing around trying to beat their brains out, so Steuart jumped on it. Managed to hang onto it for a second or two, then it threw him on his can. They lifeflighted him, unresponsive (keeping in mind, the VOLUNTEER station was fully crewed, but with a dozen high school kids and a pair of officers, and all the juniors kept their E36M3 together until the helicopter was off the ground; ask me if I'm proud of our hometown firefighters).
He was unconsious for several days. Fractured skull and some itty bitty bones in his ear. Really didn't look good. Then he woke up. And started remembering things. And talking. And laughing. And being sarcastic.
Still got a brother. 
oldsaw wrote: This deep.........
This one's better. And it's in meters.
Wait, that's redundant.
Jay wrote: This one's better. And it's in meters. Wait, that's redundant.
Keith Tanner wrote:
Tiger, eh?
Jay wrote:oldsaw wrote: This deep.........This one's better. And it's in meters. Wait, that's redundant.
doesn't show mountains for true extremes so I reject your objective statement that it is better, and therefore not redundant by using metric
Woody wrote:
I do this a lot. The diagram really doesn't show the intermediate steps when there is corrosion involved. Basically, repeatedly repeat steps 2 and 3 until you puke.
I don't bother with the washer step, although one of the guys that works for me does.
white_fly wrote:
Well that's a new one on me... Nice!
Woody wrote:
I've been 100% so far with just welding the nut but I really like the addition of the washer, will be doing that next time.
vwcorvette wrote: I grew up watching the fire department competitions. They had junior level for high school kids. Friends were competitors. I grew up in Bay Shore. Used to go to Islip to watch. They had a facility set up just for the competitions.
I grew up in Lynbrook. We used to go to Merrick to watch my uncle compete.
In reply to JohnInKansas:
I'm glad you brother came out ok. I have a number of friends that volunteer and the time and dedication they put into it is amazing
http://www.macsmotorcitygarage.com/2012/12/23/complete-lions-drag-strip-in-ho-scale/
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the paddock, Not a motor was stirring, not even an impact ; The stockings were hung by the pit fence with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The drivers were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of championships danced in their heads; And mamma in her checkered flag, and I in my Bell, Had just settled down for a long winter's spell,
When out on the grid there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. To the back of the trailer I flew like a shift, Unlocked the rampdoor, and let down the lift.
The moon on the crest of the new-paved front straight, Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects so late, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a formula car, screaming by in top gear.
Such a noise caused the chief steward to immediately arise, And by the look on his face he had words for this guy, He shouted aloud in his most gruff voice, “It’s quiet time now, GET OFF OF THE COURSE”!
Then sound control had been stirred from its slumber, And yelled to the chief steward, “I’ve never seen such a DB number!” The chief of tech said, upon seeing this fellow, “I’ve never seen that car, and I know it has no annual”.
The chief steward demanded to know this driver’s intent, To which registration replied, “Maybe he’s a late registrant.” Suddenly timing and scoring appeared from yonder, And chimed in “That car on course has no transponder.”
Though I couldn’t see the driver, he went by so quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than Schuey his crew they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, JACKMAN! now, TIRE CHANGER! now, CREWCHIEF and FUELMAN! On, ENGINEER! on FABRICATOR! on, MANAGER and TIREMAN! Beyond the tech shed! to base of the pit wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As valves that before the busted cam fly, When they meet with a piston, mount to the sky, So to the base of the timing tower the crewman they flew, With a hauler full of “go fast” bits, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a flash, I heard on the grid The roaring and thunder that each piston did. As I drew on my pitboard, and was turning about, into Victory Lane, St. Nicholas had arrived, without doubt.
He was dressed all in Simpson, from his head to his boots, And his suit was all tarnished with oil and soot; A bundle of speed parts he had flung on his back, And he looked like a vendor just opening his pack.
His face shield -- how it twinkled! his helmet decals shone! His patches were like a mural, his name scripted like a pro! His neck restraint was the best design we’d seen yet, And his gloves and his boots were a perfectly matched set;
His tools spoke volumes, he used all that they had, A mouse, a keyboard, a computer, and CAD; This just confirmed what we already knew, More than a great driver, he is a great designer too.
The parcels for the stockings that he brought along, Dripped of technology that helped engines make song; A look at the sides of his car showed there had been no rubbing here, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to fear;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to pacing, And filled all the stockings; with parts for racing, Then flipping the master power switch, and laying his finger on the starter, And into first gear, back down pit road, but no farther;
He sprang from his car, to his team gave a holler, And immediately they loaded the car back in the hauler. But I heard him exclaim, as they tore out from the line, "HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND SHIFT IN TURN 9!"
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