Off to a Bad Start...

Well. First… I hate intensely dislike the time change. The “Spring Forward” bits, anyway. While it’s not as bad these days as it used to be, i.e., when I was gainfully employed, it’s bad enough. My whole routine has been thrown into a cocked hat, which includes sleeping in until nearly noon this morning. OK… until 1100 hrs, to be precise. That’s still too long to be abed, even considering the time change.

Second… No internet connection today. The first thing I did after firing up the coffee and booting up the PeeSee was to call Yucca Telecom, and this was shortly after 1100…say 1110, or so. The receptionist at Yucca tells me all the maintenance guys are unavailable and would I like to leave them a voice mail? Well, no. No, I wouldn’t “like” to leave ‘em a voice mail… I want my frickin’ internet! But I did leave that VM. No “maintenance guys available” might be a good sign, in that all of ‘em could be out working on the problem and I’ll be restored soon. OTOH, it just might mean they’re oblivious to the problem and just left for lunch a lil bit early. It’s been 45 minutes and no one has returned my call. I plan on calling them every hour, on the hour, until I’m restored or get a plausible status report.

Fiber connections are very reliable…unless and until some idjit with a backhoe interrupts service. My darkest fear is this is what’s happened… we have a cable cut somewhere. And that could mean I’ll be belly-up as far as the ‘net goes for most of the day, or longer.

I hate it when this happens…

Update… My network connection was restored at 1225 hrs, but still no call-back from Yucca. The issue was no IP address (system error logs are wonderful things…), which has been fixed. I suspect Yucca was having “issues” with its DHCP server… but I really dunno. Gonna post this and get back later, after making my rounds and seeing what’s going on in the world.

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Via Chap… an SR-71 Blackbird pilot reminisces… most of the piece is about a combat mission over Libyan skies back in 1986, but there’s much more… including this lil vignette:

One day, high above Arizona, we were monitoring the radio traffic of all the mortal airplanes below us. First, a Cessna pilot asked the air traffic controllers to check his ground speed. 'Ninety knots,' ATC replied. A twin Bonanza soon made the same request. 'One-twenty on the ground,' was the reply. To our surprise, a navy F-18 came over the radio with a ground speed check. I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he had a ground speed indicator in his cockpit, but he wanted to let all the bug-smashers in the valley know what real speed was 'Dusty 52, we show you at 525 on the ground,' ATC responded. The situation was too ripe. I heard the click of Walter's mike button in the rear seat. In his most innocent voice, Walter startled the controller by asking for a ground speed check from 81,000 feet, clearly above controlled airspace. In a cool, professional voice, the controller replied, 'Aspen 20, I show you at 1,742 knots on the ground.' We did not hear another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.

Well, yeah…About “another transmission on that freq”… I’d think not, eh? There’s more at the link. Good stuff, too. Blackbird sightings were rare, back in the day. I was privileged to see one take off from RAF Mildenhall sometime between 1980 and 1983, but you had to look quick, Gentle Reader. Such thunderous, earth-rattling, beautiful noise… in a most Wagnerian sort of way…coupled with the fact those Blackbird drivers didn’t waste any time getting airborne. There’s your understatement of the day…

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Today’s Pic: I mentioned my buddy Greg and his Eldorado in yesterday’s post. I went looking for a photo of same while waiting not-so-patiently for my ‘net connection to be restored…and Walla! That’s Greg crouching by my Caddy, looking at the bent chrome strip on the left front fender and me in the shorts standing next to Greg’s car. Now if I had had HIS car and he had mine…well, that Eldo might still be in the stable. Or, not. Depending. You can’t second-guess the past.

Ferndale, Michigan…outside my front door and across the street. Sometime in 1994.

Back in a bit…