One of the reasons to go to the Detroit Auto Show (when it was still in February) was to see everyone in their Christmas-present clothes, strutting their idea of lookin’ gooooood.
Many years ago, before Garmin and GPS changed the way performance-obsessed nerds rode bikes, performance-obsessed nerds still rode bikes while eagerly testing out whatever pre-GPS, pre-Garmin device we thought was going to give us an edge over someone who simply rode their bike all over creation. Alarmingly recently you could spend a mortgage payment or two on a device that was slightly smaller and only a little more complicated than a 1970s Cray and a little more temperamental but lot more benign than HAL. It involved an internal level and, no joke, a pitot tube, both of which had to be calibrated before each ride. Of course I had one. I used it for about a year, which I think is as long as anyone got theirs to work or as long as anyone’s patience held out. It was ridiculous and unreliable compared to what’s available today, but it was an amazing treasure chest of data then.
Some of the data was actually useful, if not worth the riding time lost to dicking around with it. But you had to admit that once you got going it was kind of fun. And one of my favorite games involved displaying my speed, which of course it displayed, along with the grade of whatever hill I was climbing in Brown County, Indiana, where they have a surprising abundance of hills long enough and steep enough for such a device. The game was simple: As the hill steepened, I would try as long as you could to keep my speed, in miles per hour, above the pitch of the hill, expressed in a rise-over-run percentage.
I’m actually going somewhere wool-related with this. I get the impression there was a time when most clothing was made of wool, but it wasn’t the glorious Merino and Cashmere and Alpaca wool we love to wear and consider performance fabrics today. And even if it were, there had to be a point where it just wasn’t worth making certain garments out of it. That garment would be, in the textile sense, where your mph number went below your % grade number. And in the South End Rowing Club clubhouse
lee85736 almost 5 years ago
Didn’t get that one. Perhaps I’m dense. Can someone explain it to me?
asrialfeeple almost 5 years ago
This strip doesn’t shy away from wooly language or making people look sheepish.
Fantom Premium Member almost 5 years ago
Baaad
The Brooklyn Accent Premium Member almost 5 years ago
He’s just itching to tell that joke.
Roadtripper almost 5 years ago
Ewe’d think people would flock for the sheep thrills which isn’t all baaaad (to ram home a point).
DM2860 almost 5 years ago
I thought it was to keep away the vicious Yule Cat.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfWUorR8D60
trainnut1956 almost 5 years ago
Is nobody going the mention the marajuana leaf on his shirt?
DonLee2 almost 5 years ago
One of the reasons to go to the Detroit Auto Show (when it was still in February) was to see everyone in their Christmas-present clothes, strutting their idea of lookin’ gooooood.
Aviatrexx Premium Member almost 5 years ago
Wool comes from sheep. People who blindly do what everyone else does, are called “sheep”. If a group of people are all wearing wool, it’s a meta-pun.
Night-Gaunt49[Bozo is Boffo] almost 5 years ago
Many years ago, before Garmin and GPS changed the way performance-obsessed nerds rode bikes, performance-obsessed nerds still rode bikes while eagerly testing out whatever pre-GPS, pre-Garmin device we thought was going to give us an edge over someone who simply rode their bike all over creation. Alarmingly recently you could spend a mortgage payment or two on a device that was slightly smaller and only a little more complicated than a 1970s Cray and a little more temperamental but lot more benign than HAL. It involved an internal level and, no joke, a pitot tube, both of which had to be calibrated before each ride. Of course I had one. I used it for about a year, which I think is as long as anyone got theirs to work or as long as anyone’s patience held out. It was ridiculous and unreliable compared to what’s available today, but it was an amazing treasure chest of data then.
Some of the data was actually useful, if not worth the riding time lost to dicking around with it. But you had to admit that once you got going it was kind of fun. And one of my favorite games involved displaying my speed, which of course it displayed, along with the grade of whatever hill I was climbing in Brown County, Indiana, where they have a surprising abundance of hills long enough and steep enough for such a device. The game was simple: As the hill steepened, I would try as long as you could to keep my speed, in miles per hour, above the pitch of the hill, expressed in a rise-over-run percentage.
I’m actually going somewhere wool-related with this. I get the impression there was a time when most clothing was made of wool, but it wasn’t the glorious Merino and Cashmere and Alpaca wool we love to wear and consider performance fabrics today. And even if it were, there had to be a point where it just wasn’t worth making certain garments out of it. That garment would be, in the textile sense, where your mph number went below your % grade number. And in the South End Rowing Club clubhouse