Farewell, Sherman. Stuff in the Sky.
We had to trade in my Jeep, Sherman. Vermont has an annual vehicle inspection requirement, and what it would have cost to fix what was wrong with him was more than he was worth. I've been driving him on an expired inspection sticker for four months now, nervous every time I pass a cop car.
I'm sad. Sadder than I should be! I am not a materialistic person--identifying "shopping" as a pastime is as odd to me as saying "nailclipping," both being necessities that are vaguely satisfying in the moment but nothing I crave to do on the reg--but I get very attached to the possessions I do have. And I was very attached to Sherman. He was quirky--he hated going up hills and would sometimes refuse to shift out of first gear--but fun. Going over frost heaves or even moderate-sized potholes in him was like being on a carnival ride! He was constantly dirty in excess of what seems plausible for our dirt roads. He was brown--I called him my big brown beast--so it didn't show, but his license plate was unreadable most of the time because of the mud. I only drove him to work and weekend errands during snowboarding season but always like to imagine that he and I were going on a great adventure.
Bobby got a remarkably good trade-in for him, considering all that was wrong with him, and put it toward a used red pickup truck. The pickup truck is key; as our homestead has expanded, so has the need for a vehicle that can transport larger loads, or just things (like straw) that you don't want inside your car. It is indicative of how well Bobby knows me--we have been together 23 years on Friday--that when he called to tell me about it, he offered that I could call it Fëanor as consolation to having to give up Sherman. The thing I most like about it, though, is the 600-mile/6-year warranty. That is a very Walls thing to like.
I drove the new truck today, and it was like driving Sherman but less wacky. Normally, though, I will drive the Suzuki and Bobby will take the truck since he does most of the ag-related pickups. But the back windshield on the Suzuki shattered while Bobby was attaching his bike rack, and he took it to be replaced today. (The other good thing about the pickup: no need to fuss any longer with racks for things. We can put kayaks and bikes and such right in the back. See, logically, I know it was a good choice. I still miss Sherman like crazy, though.)
In a total 180, Bobby and I were sitting outside in the hot tub on Friday night. It was a chilly night and the hot tub was above-average hot, so there was a lot of steam, and what I thought was a plane flew over, spewing a distinctive contrail behind it. After I made the requisite InfoWars joke by shouting, "Stop spraying us!" I noticed that the contrail was rather ... luminous. "Hey, that's really trippy," I said, assuming it was a trick of all the steam from the hot tub or maybe the atmosphere.
And then it passed beyond the steam and resolved itself into a string of little lights. We see all kinds of wild shit in the sky because we have relatively little light pollution and also spend a lot of time in the hot tub and thus staring into the night sky. Satellites passing overhead are commonplace; this looked like a train of satellites. I still wasn't convinced that it wasn't a trick of the atmosphere or steam, but it was weird and cool, and I made a mental note to look up what might have caused it.
Well, Bobby beat me to it, and it turns out it was indeed satellites: sixty of them, launched by SpaceX to beam broadband Internet. I've since learned that there is worry about the launch of more of these--up to 12,000 (!!)--and the impact that would have not only on astronomers but anyone who likes to look skyward at night.
So something that was cool and strange when I first saw it has now been tainted, and I'm almost embarrassed at how excited I was when I first saw it. Because it was cool--beautiful even--but I don't know that I want to see a freight depot's worth of them on any given night, truckin' across the sky.
Night before last, we were treated to bright flashes of light at large intervals and at random across the sky. They were like camera flashes. I feel like I see these often but only out of my peripheral vision, where I don't trust what I think I've seen, but I was looking directly at them twice this time, as was Bobby. I don't know what this was.
Anyway, the SpaceX satellites: this is the third time we've seen something like this by accident. We've seen the International Space Station go over twice too, without planning to see it, just happening to be outside and looking up at the right place and time.
This post was originally posted on Dreamwidth and, using my Felagundish Elf magic, crossposted to LiveJournal. You can comment here or there!
https://dawn-felagund.dreamwidth.org/440494.html
I'm sad. Sadder than I should be! I am not a materialistic person--identifying "shopping" as a pastime is as odd to me as saying "nailclipping," both being necessities that are vaguely satisfying in the moment but nothing I crave to do on the reg--but I get very attached to the possessions I do have. And I was very attached to Sherman. He was quirky--he hated going up hills and would sometimes refuse to shift out of first gear--but fun. Going over frost heaves or even moderate-sized potholes in him was like being on a carnival ride! He was constantly dirty in excess of what seems plausible for our dirt roads. He was brown--I called him my big brown beast--so it didn't show, but his license plate was unreadable most of the time because of the mud. I only drove him to work and weekend errands during snowboarding season but always like to imagine that he and I were going on a great adventure.
Bobby got a remarkably good trade-in for him, considering all that was wrong with him, and put it toward a used red pickup truck. The pickup truck is key; as our homestead has expanded, so has the need for a vehicle that can transport larger loads, or just things (like straw) that you don't want inside your car. It is indicative of how well Bobby knows me--we have been together 23 years on Friday--that when he called to tell me about it, he offered that I could call it Fëanor as consolation to having to give up Sherman. The thing I most like about it, though, is the 600-mile/6-year warranty. That is a very Walls thing to like.
I drove the new truck today, and it was like driving Sherman but less wacky. Normally, though, I will drive the Suzuki and Bobby will take the truck since he does most of the ag-related pickups. But the back windshield on the Suzuki shattered while Bobby was attaching his bike rack, and he took it to be replaced today. (The other good thing about the pickup: no need to fuss any longer with racks for things. We can put kayaks and bikes and such right in the back. See, logically, I know it was a good choice. I still miss Sherman like crazy, though.)
In a total 180, Bobby and I were sitting outside in the hot tub on Friday night. It was a chilly night and the hot tub was above-average hot, so there was a lot of steam, and what I thought was a plane flew over, spewing a distinctive contrail behind it. After I made the requisite InfoWars joke by shouting, "Stop spraying us!" I noticed that the contrail was rather ... luminous. "Hey, that's really trippy," I said, assuming it was a trick of all the steam from the hot tub or maybe the atmosphere.
And then it passed beyond the steam and resolved itself into a string of little lights. We see all kinds of wild shit in the sky because we have relatively little light pollution and also spend a lot of time in the hot tub and thus staring into the night sky. Satellites passing overhead are commonplace; this looked like a train of satellites. I still wasn't convinced that it wasn't a trick of the atmosphere or steam, but it was weird and cool, and I made a mental note to look up what might have caused it.
Well, Bobby beat me to it, and it turns out it was indeed satellites: sixty of them, launched by SpaceX to beam broadband Internet. I've since learned that there is worry about the launch of more of these--up to 12,000 (!!)--and the impact that would have not only on astronomers but anyone who likes to look skyward at night.
So something that was cool and strange when I first saw it has now been tainted, and I'm almost embarrassed at how excited I was when I first saw it. Because it was cool--beautiful even--but I don't know that I want to see a freight depot's worth of them on any given night, truckin' across the sky.
Night before last, we were treated to bright flashes of light at large intervals and at random across the sky. They were like camera flashes. I feel like I see these often but only out of my peripheral vision, where I don't trust what I think I've seen, but I was looking directly at them twice this time, as was Bobby. I don't know what this was.
Anyway, the SpaceX satellites: this is the third time we've seen something like this by accident. We've seen the International Space Station go over twice too, without planning to see it, just happening to be outside and looking up at the right place and time.
This post was originally posted on Dreamwidth and, using my Felagundish Elf magic, crossposted to LiveJournal. You can comment here or there!
https://dawn-felagund.dreamwidth.org/440494.html