Behold

Behold. (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100 with flash.)

Replaced, at long last, are the ancient sunglasses my siblings poked fun at as supposedly being a throwback from their era, the time of disco.
I’ve had these lots longer than their fairly recent decision to express love by lobbing rotten tomatoes.
This seems to have been prompted by my having the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to disagree with the Grand Poobah, who was clearly WRONG, about where we got off Interstate-80.
Regrettably, the replacements (pictured) ain’t some silly NASCAR fashion-statement that might go outta style in a couple years.
They ain’t the hyper-narrow Day-glo wrap-arounds worn by Tony Stewart and the little twerp.

A LITTLE HISTORY HERE (from the utterly reprehensible History-major......)

My old sunglasses go clear back to the early ‘80s — or perhaps the late ‘70s.
They were purchased as Serengeti®-drivers, a special application recommended by an editor at Car&Driver magazine. (That editor still works there, was a Chrysler engineer, and once raced Indianapolis [crashed there too].)
Serengeti®-drivers were a special variegated sunglass lens by Corning Glass.
The bottom was lighter than the top, plus the bottom was a different tint.
The lenses had a yellowish tint, which melded gradually to brownish at the top.
The lenses could be bought as prescription, which these were.
Doing so scotches the $1.59 shades from the pharmacy; cheap Chinese imitations of the shades the NASCAR-boys use.
Finally the frames broke on the Serengeti®-drivers, but my glasses-place found a frame the lenses could fit.
But one lens eventually got scratched (they were plastic), so the glasses-place recommended new lenses.
By then Serengeti®-drivers were no longer made, and the glasses-place recommended against variegated tinting.
I could get a prescription lens, tinted brownish, that fit that frame. So that is what I did, maybe 10 years ago.
That’s what I’ve been wearing ever since then — although the brownish tint faded to reddish over time.
That, plus the shape, prompted my ever-loving siblings to go absolutely ballistic, and accuse me of having disco sunglasses.
Not that I cared; which drove them even bonkier.
Last visit to the mighty Curve, a hinge got severely bent, and I thought it might break if I bent it back.
It didn’t, but my new glasses-place said the frames were on their last legs.
So just recently I sprung for new prescription sunglasses; frames, lenses, anti-reflective coating — the whole stinkin’ kabosh.
Smoke tint this time, instead of brown. And no polarization, which my friend Art Dana recommends.
But the frames look like Woody Allen (horror-of-horrors).
Not that I care — function is more important than style.
And I’m sure I’d get noisily badmouthed by my siblings no matter what I got.

RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.

The “Grand Poobah” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. He once claimed we got off Interstate-80 in Pennsylvania at an exit other than what we actually used (and I’ve used hundreds of times — him once); and then went ballistic claiming I was utterly stupid. —And so began the torrent of noisy put-downs.

“The little twerp” is NASCAR race-driver Jeff Gordon; who my macho brother-from-Boston calls a little twerp. He also claims he’s a cheater. “Tony Stewart” is another NASCAR driver.

RE: “From the utterly reprehensible History-major......” —My loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston was trained as an engineer, and noisily claims superiority. I majored in History, so am therefore vastly inferior.

The “mighty Curve” (“Horseshoe Curve”), west of Altoona, Pennsylvania, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.)

“My friend Art Dana” is an old bus-driver I became friends with. (For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, N.Y. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.)