8/4/07

-A) Printer-driver follies:
At long last OS-X is recognizing my printer — I guess.
As originally installed, my original OS-X (10.2) used my old printer-driver. But when I upgraded to Tiger (10.4), it fell back to using a generic driver: LaserWriter-8.
My printer isn’t a laser printer. In fact, it’s an inkjet, an Epson photo-quality Stylus 1280.
We printed a photo of Bill Ross’s mini-truck (that Jack blew), and it looked awful — stripy.
The printer was boomin’-and-zoomin’ — speed over quality. My old printer-window had an option for picking quality over speed; “LaserWriter-8” didn’t.
So I asked about it at the dreaded Mac Shack, and showed them the print.
“Must be a generic driver; I can’t believe your printer even works with a laser driver.”
He then showed me that OS-X has 89 bazilyun inherent printer drivers, including one for my 1280.
But I couldn’t do anything right then — this was two months ago. (One of the greatest advantages of OS-X is that it still let’s me fiddle even though my apps ain’t completely updated; e.g. Photoshop, Word, Excel, Quark, etc. Whereas Vast has to update all her apps to be Vista-compliant.)
I went to Mac-Shack again yesterday (Friday, August 3, 2007) to order a correct large-format scanner for this here rig (the previous order was a PC-scanner only), so I asked again about printer-drivers.
“Add a printer,” he said.
“Fire up the ‘printer set-up utility,’ and add a printer.”
OS-X searches your system, and then installs the drivers for any printers it finds.
All I had was my 1280, so that’s what it installed.
Boom-zoom; driver installed.
I also made it my default (“defoult”) printer, which tossed the LaserWriter-8 — plus it couldn’t find a laser-printer.
So finally I’m printing to my 1280, although it ain’t my old dialog-box. (Doesn’t seem to have the speed/quality option.)

-B) DONE:

DONE

The Keed.

(Old windows at back [laundry-room], cellar gun-slit at bottom.)

Our massive window-replacement project is more-or-less complete; i.e. the crew has departed, and only one window is yet to be replaced — which they were missing. (In the photo you can see how bad the old windows were.)
There are also minor things which may have not been done, which we are supposed to list.
Fleecer-man is also supposed to come to see that we are satisfied.
The wall repairs comprised an extra day, for which they would have charged an additional $1,200; but they rounded that down to $1,000 due to the missing window.
WHATEVER; I think I’d rather put up with an added 1,000 smackaroos than a noisy torrent of blustering from West Bridgewater, or Ty Pennington and his blue-helmeted minions napalming the house, or demolishing it with big-boy toys.
“Finally I can see out the windows,” my wife said.
“So tell us,” a crew-member said. “When was your house built?”
“1989.” my wife said.
“I’m not surprised,” the guy said. “Right about then the windows were terrible. Everyone was experimenting, and everything failed. We had all kinds of problems at Rochester-Colonial.”

-C) “Tuff-n-Lite:
And so goes old “Tuff-n-Lite,” (pictured), a motorcycle trailer I purchased long ago in 1984 should I ever have to rescue an abandoned motorbike at roadside.

The Keed.

“Tuff-n-Lite” departs.

I never had to rescue anything, and bought it when I had the Yamaha RZ350 two-stroke, a motorbike that only weighed about 350 pounds, yet went like stink.
I modified the RZ a lot, like Jack modifying his GeezerGlide, but in so doing ruined it. (Let’s hope Jack ain’t doing the same, but the GeezerGlide sure runs wonky.)
I was mainly trying to make it sit like my Ducati, which it replaced, but it was an upright streetbike; wonky with clip-ons and rearsets.
I also made a number of speed-modifications to it; mainly a kit for replacing the original catalytic-converter exhaust-mufflers with expansion-chambers and carburetor-jetting to match.
They made it extremely powerful above 6,000 rpm (the expansion-chambers were supercharging the intake; scavenging the cylinders with wave-action); yet below 6,000 it was nothing. It was like riding a light-switch.
It still had the oil-injection, so I didn’t have to premix, but riding it was no fun at all.
Swapping out the catalytic-converters also made it a gross polluter — supposedly illegal on the street.
Most of the modifications came from a national supplier who happened to be based in Rochester. They made out like bandits (“Toss another steak on the grill, Martha!”), and I’m sure are long-gone.
The RZ350 was replaced with the FZR400, not long after we moved out here to West Bloomfield.

The Keed.

GTI with FZR on old “Tuff-n-Lite.”

I took the RZ350 to the motorcycle-store in deepest, darkest Henrietta, and returned with the FZR400. I had old “Tuff-n-Lite” behind our 1983 Volkswagen GTI.
For a while “Tuff-n-Lite” was in our garage, but put a hole in the drywall; plus I needed room to put my motorbike in the garage.
So “Tuff-n-Lite” got put out in the backyard, stored outside in the weather.
Seems I used it one other time, but I rode the FZR when I traded it for the mighty Kow, and the Kow for the dreaded LHMB.
“Tuff-n-Lite” was stored outside for years, and not too long ago I tried to reuse it, but the taillights were severely corroded.
I ended up removing them for eventual repair, but never got to it.
I also had been renewing the plate as time went along, but stopped getting it inspected. Inspection would have required repair.
When the Rochester-Colonial crew was here a guy asked if I might be willing to part with it.
I was thinking I would eventually put it at the curb as a free giveaway, but said he could have it for $35 cash, and that it needed repair — also that -1) I hadn't greased the wheel-bearings in years, and -2) the tires might be rotted.
But I’m glad it’s going to someone who actually wants it. He plans to drag his Harley around behind a car — already has another flatbed trailer (pictured), but it needs a truck.
I think I paid about $485 for it; and that’s back in 1984. (Figure over $1,000 by now.)
When Jack was in Fulton, we swapped trailers and I used his to tow Bill and my motorbikes to Peg-a-lou behind the E250. Jack was not able to come, so only Bill-and-I were able to ride up in the hills.
That was back when -1) I had to swap the plugs on the RZ because they loaded up at 4,000 feet, and -2) Bill requested I not tell Sue he was doing 152 mph. That was the time our dog Casey bit JillZ, and also before Jack was into the macho Harley-gig. (At that time he had a navy-blue 700-cc four-cylinder Honda NightHawk — best-looking NightHawk they ever made.)

“OS-X Tiger (10.4)” is the current Apple-Computer operating-system.

“Bill Ross” is our driveway-sealing contractor. He lives nearby and has a small mini-truck model in his front yard. “Jack” is my all-knowing macho blowhard brother-from-Boston, and he “blew” what the mini-truck is supposed to be (he said Mack, and it’s supposed to be a Dodge). He lives in West Bridgewater south of Boston.

“Mac Shack” is where I bought my current rig.

“Vast” is my brother-in-Delaware’s wife Sue — she goes by the nickname “Vast Right-Wing Conspirator.”

RE: “default (‘defoult’).............” My brother-in-Delaware insists Route 261 in northern Delaware has always been spelled “Foulk Road.” But in 1957 when our family moved there (which was before he was born) it was signed as “Faulk Road.”

“Fleecer-man” is our salesman who initiated the window-replacement contract. My brother-in-Boston noisily insists we got hosed. (“Ya coulda had them windows for a ‘hunderd’ dollars a unit, from the faded blue Econoline in the Rochester slums, and installed them yourselves with bobbie-pins and paper-clips. All ya woulda had to do was hose off the blood.” “Hunderd” is now he noisily insists “hundred” is spelled.)

RE: “The wall repairs......” One porch wall had serious water-damage. Exterior sheathing and header-boards had to be replaced.

Jack’s “GeezerGlide” is a Harley-Davidson cruiser-bike — very laid back, and he’s 50; so we call it his GeezerGlide.

Without “catalytic-converters,” a two-stroke internal-combustion engine would pass a lot of unburnt hydrocarbons into the atmosphere.

A two-stroke motor has to have oil “premixed” in the gasoline, since everything passes through the crankcase. The RZ350 had “oil-injection,” to add oil to the gasoline. You didn’t have to “premix.”

“Deepest, darkest Henrietta” is Henrietta, N.Y., a glitzy and disgusting suburb of Rochester.

“Toss another steak on the grill, Martha!” is what I say about my brother Jack buying glitzy parts for his GeezerGlide.

“The mighty Kow” is my 1996 Kawasaki ZX6R, purchased after my stroke October 26, 1993.

The “LHMB” is my 2003 Honda CBR600RR. “LHMB” equals “Lord-Have-Mercy-Banana.” My sister in Floridy, upon seeing it, said “Lord-Have-Mercy!” My loudmouthed brother-from-Boston pronounced it a “banana,” because it’s yellow.

“Rochester-Colonial” is the contractor who replaced most of our windows.

“Fulton” is Fulton, N.Y., where years ago my brother was supervising the construction of the Nine Mile Point nuclear generating-station.

“Peg-a-lou” is my baby-sister in Lynchburg, Va.

“The E250” is our 1979 Ford E250 Econoline van, junked long ago.

“Bill” is my younger brother-from-Delaware. He claims his turbocharged Volvo is good for “152 mph.”

“JillZ” is my sister-in-Floridy’s onliest child.