Observed

To my delight, I had a chance to snoop around Hallville’s Sports Car Factory this morning. The place is a veritable trove of automotive awesomeness. Now, we’re not talking about the car as a mode of transportation, but as an art-form. Of course, with old-school British cars’ (one of the Factory’s apparent specialities) reputation in mind, actual locomotion does at times take a rumble seat, if you know what I mean. But with form like this, who needs function?

The Factory’s museum-like second level contains a few works in progress, along with spare parts and other car stuff. Flick on the fluorescent lights, and auto relics appear in the dusty gloom. The place seems to be caught somewhere in between order and chaos, depending on where you look.

The cars are lifted up to the second level through here:

Now, this looks like a couple of body panels from an old E-Type. The back end rests a few feet away.

Back outside, British motoring’s finest are well represented: Triumph, Austin-Healey, and MG. Not to mention the Jags scattered about, albeit in various stages of (dis)repair, along with a couple of Land Rovers that look like they had at one point or another been abandoned along the banks of the Congo River.

Anyhow, they’ve got some right fine specimens lined up along County Road 43 as well; it was nice to see a couple Sprites, as well as a handsome TR6. It’s hard to drive by the lot without pulling over and kicking a tire or two. At risk of heartbreak, of course, when you inevitably realize that gem you noticed last visit has mysteriously disappeared, and is no doubt gracing the garage of some lucky fellow (or lady).

You know the saying, “they don’t make ‘em like they used to;” but when presented with these beauties, you can’t help but wonder why?

This past week I finally got a certain something off my chest — or off my desk — that’s been in the works for the last little while: my MA thesis proposal.

The proposed work will centre on the writings of a neat old fellow named Roger Crab (the original “Mad Hatter”). A hermit and vegetarian, Crab wrote four pamphlets in the mid-1600s. For a few years there, he lived on a small piece of land near Uxbridge in a cabin that he built for himself, eating only roots and herbs that he grew for himself, and adhering to a set of eremitic beliefs that that he developed for himself. Anyhow, the Hermitary has a good writeup on Crab that you can check out if you’re interested.

But back to the thesis proposal. In the wake of its submission (it’s been, oh, a day now), I’ve been fighting the urge to go and retrieve the poor document and tinker with it a little more. You know, add a section or two, fiddle with the chapter titles, that sort of thing. Consider it a form of postpartum anxiety, unique to grad students. Of course, if you didn’t put your foot (or pen) down, you could probably just work on your proposal indefinitely, or at least until you had just about finished researching and writing your actual thesis — by which point I am sure that you could prepare a perfectly wonderful proposal for it. Anyhow, we’ll have to see what the Committee has to say about things… it all sounds vaguely inquisitorial to me.

Now, I’ve found that “the proposal” can be a tricky genre. It’s also probably one of the more unethical ones that I’ve worked in for a while, almost on par with writing ministerial correspondence for the federal government… I guess the key is to be apodictic. Or, as Basil King said, “be brave and mighty powers will come to your aid!” A good way to start this is by removing the word “perhaps” from your vocabulary for a while. Also, you have to come to grips with the fact that no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to read everything that you need to; you can still go ahead and list it all in your bibliography, however.

And remember: “if you can’t think logically, at least think chronologically.”

The other day I came across a unique device available from Lee Valley that really comes in handy at this time of year: the Rimroller.

Its purpose is simple — to help good Tim Hortonians to quickly and efficiently roll up their rims! And at $1.95, the rig will only set you back about as much as you’d pay for a decent-sized cup of coffee. Of course, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still most likely to see “PLEASE TRY AGAIN” under there…

Some tallies of unusual things I saw today:

Wild Turkeys: 20+
Oh boy, we were cruising down Bolton road (narrow, gravel, treed, etc.), came round a bend, and then what was there up ahead but a massive army of wild turkeys! Although they beat a hasty retreat, I can’t help but wonder that if I wasn’t driving a rental car, I might have tried to bump one off (literally speaking). A roast turkey dinner would be nice right about now.

Cars in the Ditch: 3
While enjoying the delightful springtime weather the other day, I asked myself if Winter had finally given up for another year. Well, the answer appears to be “no, it hasn’t” judging by the sudden dumping of the chilly white stuff. As a result, the roads were slick on the way back from Ottawa, and not everybody was able to stay on the pavement. I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t driving a rental car that happened to have AWD, I would’ve ended up there myself!

Documentary Films: 1
Well, the purpose of our turkey-ridden and treacherous trip was to go and see Sharkwater, which was more than worth the time, carbon emissions, admission fees, and other assorted costs. The film is full of truly wonderful images of sea life, and does a marvellous job of capturing the interplay between sharks and enormous schools of fish, sharks and divers, and sharks and other sharks. Filmmaker Rob Stewart makes some interesting suggestions — namely that sharks are our friends (and not the killers that they’ve been made out to be), and indirectly make sure that there’s enough of that oxygen stuff to go around.

The environmentalist/conservationist agenda comes across loud and clear, although without being too preachy — Stewart’s tone is much to personal for that. Yet the footage of the eco-revolutionaries and guerrilla activists is just as interesting as the deep-sea shots, presenting some real-life, high seas adventure; the Sea Shepherds that Stewart tools around with have no problem taking time out of their busy days to ram illegal fishing boats and string up barbed-wire to prevent the Costa-Rican Coast Guard from boarding their ship.

One thing — while the film is only rated PG, I wonder if it should’ve been higher… but perhaps images of mating sea-turtles don’t bother the censors that much. I don’t know, it seems a little risqué to me!

…with a sense of humour.

This one always gets me.

It’s always interesting, I find, to run into old acquaintances, long lost friends, and the like. The last few times this has happened, I’ve noticed that I seem to have much to talk about with the folks I wasn’t really that close with previously; as impromptu reunions unfold, in coffee shops or on park benches, I can’t help but think it funny that in this one chance visit, five years since we last crossed paths, we exchange more words than we ever did during the ten-or-so years of acquaintance during public/high school. Maybe the words accumulate as the years go by. Maybe time makes us better people, turning some of us into folks we actually wouldn’t mind chatting with for a while. Whatever the case, a little nostalgia can go a long way.