That's not snow

I lived in Salt Lake City for two years, then elsewhere in Utah for another four, but I had never driven out onto the Bonneville Salt Flats before. And I'd never been to speed week. Now, here I am.

The Flats are a BLM recreation area, so you can camp there, free, though they prefer you stay by the paved road, especially if there has been wet weather and the salt is soft. During speed week, the Southern California Timing Association, which runs the event, charges $20 per vehicle per day for spectators to go out to the pits and course.

The time trials were cancelled the past two years because of wet weather. This year, they're complaining the salt isn't the way they'd like it, as if it's the BLM's job to control the weather, global warming and plate tectonics—just for the racers.

Some cool old vans at the Flats

The cool thing about Bonneville is that it's not just the big-buck streamliners. There's a class for everything.

Big-bucks streamliner

Old school belly tank racer

Another belly tank

This started life as a Civic

A Crosley? Why not?

A Crosley pickup with a diesel engine? Also why not? Click here for the truck's story.

The old cars are more interesting than, say, Mustangs and Cameros

Sure, you could supercharge a Harley or a sportbike, but making a

normally aspirated old Triumph go fast is an act of love

And some tiny French moped with a side car? That's insane love.

Speaking of French...

Gotta get around the pits in style

Wow

Can you tell I'm not in Colorado anymore?

Twenty-two miles south of Moab, on my way much farther north

I think I can pick up Tazmania now

A motorcycle would be an impractical extravagance, but a cellular directional antenna isn't. Not with how web-dependent I am. And the antenna, along with the cable and adapters, costs a fraction of a motorcycle.

Long before I ordered the antenna, I thought a lot about different ways I could mount it. Simple ways. Not so simple ways. Stupid ways. What could I use for a mast? How could I attach it so it was easy to rotate toward the signal (which is the point of a directional antenna). Then it came to me one night. Electrical conduit, U-bolts, wing nuts, the ladder rack upright.

Home Depot sells handy four-foot lengths of electrical conduit. Three-quarter inch diameter seemed rigid enough. Then I found some three-quarter inch U-bolts and the correct size wing nuts.

The wing nuts allow me to loosen and tighten the U-bolts without a wrench. I drilled the holes in the ladder rack larger than the U-bolt diameter so there was plenty of slack. That way the U-bolts can swing loose with just the wing nuts backed off.

The cable is kind of a beast. It's about twice as thick as TV cable or even the bit of cable that comes out of the antenna. I usually have the back door open from the time I get up until I shut down for the night, so routing the cable won't be a problem most of the time. When it's wet or cold, though, I'll have to pinch it between the weatherstripping. I don't know if it will leak. The rest of the time (a.k.a. driving) the antenna and cable will come down and stow away.

The cable connects to my weBoost (formerly Wilson) cellular booster via two adapters. One like this, and one like this. My Verizon JetPack rests in the booster cradle.

It's hard to tell how well this setup works since I'm already in a strong reception zone. But I'll be out in the boonies soon enough.

Envy

Sometimes my minimalist ethos gets challenged. Sometimes I want to own cool stuff again. Like when Forrest showed up today with a really nice, slightly customized 1972 Norton Commando.

I've lusted after Nortons since high school. First I was too broke to get one. Then I had sober, responsible reasons for not getting one. "They leak. They shake. Maintenance is bothersome.The shifter is on the wrong side." Then they stopped making them. Then they became expensive collector items. But the lust was always there.

Now I have other sober, responsible reasons for not getting a Norton—or any motorcycle. The primary one is that I don't have the money. Or the room. Or the need. (Though my inner 17-year-old insists I do need a motorcycle.) I'm committed to living with less stuff. I'm happy that way. Most of the time, anyway. Vroom.

More or less for your money

The big advantage of the nomadic life is that we can go where we like best. What's best varies from person to person. For me, best is usually about weather or scenery. But for some, money is a big factor. If so, here's a helpful map showing where your bucks will go farther. There might be some surprises.

More progress

Doors, walls, rain

Mugginess-B-Gone

I like having the Rolling Steel Tent's doors and windows open. Mmmm, fresh air. But rain puts a (nyuk-nyuk) damper on that, and the van quickly turns warm and muggy.

A few days ago, during a prolonged thunderstorm, I dragged out my 12 volt fan. "I don't know what good this will do. Muggy air pushed around is still muggy."

I was wrong. The humidity might not be any lower, but it does feel better. It takes me back to un-air conditioned childhood summers in the South, sitting smack in front of one of our many fans. I'm glad those days are over.

Oh, duh

About eleven months of the year I depend exclusively on solar power for electricity to charge my laptop, phone, hot spot and camera. The system works like this:

As you can see, there's the bit of silly inefficiency of changing DC current from the battery to AC current just so I can plug in my charging brick, which converts AC back to DC. C'est la vie.

But sometimes I have shore power, like during the past month at Forrest's place. Since I'm parked in a shady spot, and since there has been a lot of overcast, I've been using shore power, via a battery charger, to keep my house batteries charged. The primary thought in my old head was, "Keep the house batteries charged," so it took me a while to realize I had an even sillier setup when it came to charging my electronic devices.

Instead of merely going from DC to AC to DC as before, I was now going from AC to DC to AC to DC. Stupid me. I could just plug the various charging bricks into the extension cord from the building, like this:

However, there are still times I need to charge the house batteries and an electronic device simultaneously. Then I go back to the overly complicated way.

Too bad my refrigerator is DC-only. Otherwise I could just plug everything directly into shore power. Ah well, van dwelling means compromises.

Waiting for the lightning show

Forrest is housesitting at a very nice place northwest of town. We went there to hang out on the patio, pet the dogs, have snacks and watch the storm move in. We were hoping for thunder and lightning but it wasn't the right kind of storm. Still, the scenery was dramatic.

After the storm, before the next one

Mountains + rain = waterfalls

South of Ouray, Colorado, Bear Creek slips under US Highway 550 and plunges into a chasm

 before joining the Uncompahgre River

One of many unnamed cascades that also feed the Uncompahgre River

Sadly, toxic heavy metals washed downstream from abandoned mines sometimes color the Uncompahgre River yellow

Lake, placid

Lake Andrews, near Molas Pass, US Highway 550, Colorado

Construction in the morning, destruction in the evening

One of Forrest's customers needs to replace the engine in his early '70s pickup. Step 1: Drain the fluids. Step 2: Disconnect lots of hoses, wires and cables. Move components out of the way. Step 3: Discover surprises, like missing bolts. Step 4: Separate the transmission from the engine. Step 5: Cut the exhaust pipes.

He's not napping under there

I didn't just watch and take pictures. I helped remove the hood, and once in a while I handed Forrest a wrench. And then took more pictures. And asked questions.

Two hours later, the old engine was out. Forrest says that's a new record for him pulling an engine alone. (And, you know, with me handing him wrenches.)

Forrest displays the catch of the day

The new engine awaits its home in the old truck

Now we'll see whether he can set a record getting the new engine in and running.

More progress

About all that's left on the first building is installation of the sliding door and the corrugated steel roofing. Meanwhile, the first wall is up on the second building.

Advances in bedding

It has been a while since I've purchased new bedding (because minimalism, making do, and all that). But one of my two fitted sheets had become too worn and ugly for my delicate sensibilities.

Apparently, the new thing (at least with this particular brand) is handy orientation labels. It's not such a big deal with my twin bed, but I could have used these back when I had a queen. King bed owners must be ecstatic.

I wonder if there were high level meetings over whether, having labeled the sides, it was necessary to label the ends. And, if they were to label the ends, should one say top and the other bottom? Was the decision to label the ends top or bottom intended to stave off arguments about the sheet being the wrong way around? But what about people who have a hard time with choices? I imagine there's more than one out there right now who has been locked for hours in decision paralysis.