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Well, I'm off on another crazy project. At the urging of Dave Elliott (who thinks we are going to ride from ocean to ocean [and who may be right]), I have converted my linear recumbent into an electric bike. I actually purchased two conversion kits, thinking that it would be a fun activity Barbara and I could enjoy together. Unfortunately, she demonstrated a surprising level of reluctance towards it and, several arguments longer than it should have taken me to figure it out, I have concluded that the correct course of action is for me to forget I ever had that idea.


I originally mounted the battery in behind the seat, but its' 14 pound weight disrupted the bikes' balance, such that the front wheel would "hop" at the slightest bump and in loose sand would "snowplow" instead of turning. Directional control, which is already marginal (particularly at low speeds) was further compromised... So it was back to the drawing board.


My next try, was to design a basket for the front of the bike and mount the battery there, but the swinging momentum of those fourteen pounds amplified each small steering correction and totally destroyed directional control. I wrecked twice trying to get the bicycle pointed up the driveway. Even strapping an eight-ounce notebook into that basket was somewhat problematic (an observation that I still have trouble believing...).


So, I slung the battery under the frame. On the left side, as I pedal my heel clears it by about an inch, and on the right side it sits about a inch from the chain. I'm not particularly pleased with those tolerances, but this configuration seems functional and is, perhaps, the best alternative.


The controller is the brains of the device, and is touted as being state-of-the-art. That may be so, but the manuel supplied with it certainly is not. It contained pages and pages describing subjects that would be of interest only to a bicycle novice, but nothing that even vaguely resembled a wiring diagram. This box has input from six devices, with some of them having as many as four wires. It was a bit of a challenge sorting it all out.


The control panel gives the rider several choices. You can select one of three assist levels, where the bicycle senses the amount of torque you are applying, and augments that motive force proportionally.


Or, you can simply pedal the bike, using the throttle only when needed. In this mode, holding the throttle in the same position for eight seconds engages the cruise control. It is disengaged by touching either brake, or by turning the throttle to its limit. Hence the need for all those inputs to the controller.


As above noted, the battery weighs 14 pounds. The motor and accoutrements add another 11 pounds, for a total of 25. That makes the bike difficult to ride uphill when the battery has died. The batteries are lithium ion, and the first 5 times they need to be run entirely down before being re-charged. To accomplish this, I have mounted both on the bike (39 pounds worth) and when one dies, I plug in the other, and head for home. The batteries, electrical gear, plus the 35 pounds of the bike itself make for one heavy machine when you have to pedal it unaided. When fully operational, each battery should be good for a 50 mile trip (level ground, 15 mph, no wind, 160 pound rider). I can hardly wait to see if it works out that way...


I have been cleaning out the shed, and in the process, came across many treasures, including five cases of dried butter that my mother placed in storage some years ago. Being curious, I decided to see if it could be used in an emergency...


2013 minus 1981 is more years than most of you can remember, but I thought the experiment intriguing enough to undertake...


I opened the can, and everything looked and smelled ok. The powder was still powder, with no clumping or caking.


The directions say to take one cup of powder, and in an appropriate container...


...mix in three tablespoons of water, while stirring constantly. The reconstituted product looked and smelled quite good...


...so I tried some on some toast. It tasted quite good, and I concluded that I had three cases of usable powdered butter.


HOWEVER, about 15 minutes after eating it, I began to experience an incredibly foul rancid grease taste, that persisted for the next 45 minutes or so...


Anybody else want to give it a try?


At this point, my new (to me) car and I have traveled over three thousand miles together. There are some things that I like about the Corolla, and a couple that ought to result in jail time for the engineer who designed them. The configuration of the fuel tank makes it hard to fill completely. Starting from the point where the fuel warning light is on, the gas pump will click off at about 10 gallons. However, if you spend the time, you can add over three gallons more. This makes it difficult to accurately measure miles per gallon (a figure dear to my heart). As an interim solution, I am tracking the cumulative miles per gallon (total miles driven divided by total gallons used), and currently that figure is around 41. That's not nearly as good as the 50 mph the Geo turned in when it was new but, given the alternatives, I guess it is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick...

If you are willing the spend the time filling the fuel tank, the vehicle has an impressive range. My last tank took me 597.2 miles, and given that I didn't run out, could have gone further.

The ignition key contains an embedded microchip whose presence is a prerequisite to starting the car. This problem-waiting-to-happen was designed and marketed as a anti-theft feature, but in reality the only person it will ever inconvenience is the vehicle owner. It is, however, an additional source of revenue for Toyota dealers, as they are the only source of replacement keys. Further, the owner is stuck with a big gobby key that doesn't fit in a key caddy. This necessitates carrying it by itself, which in turn, exponentially increases the probability of it being lost... Chances that I will eventually devise a scheme to defeat this system are good, but for the present I have contented myself with complaining about it.


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