Biking Around Almaden

Since my pool of potential cycling partners in the area has doubled now that Bob has a serviceable bicycle again, I've been riding around town a fair bit this past week. During the course of these rides I have discovered that I rarely make it through either the Country Club or Glencrest areas without passing someone I know.

Apparently working at the club has made me a bit of a local celebrity. I appreciate the friendly gestures and polite conversation that accompany being recognized around town. At the same time, there are some definite drawbacks. If, for instance, I am ever seen with a person of the opposite sex, then I'm sure to hear about it in the not too distant future. If only my social life was as interesting as these club members fancy it to be.

SAT Classes

I recently started teaching an SAT class at a privately owned, franchised Korean learning center in Santa Clara. Due to the limited hours and post tennis rush hour commute, I'm not likely to be teaching there beyond this summer. There are a couple of really interesting things about teaching this class.

First, the class materials are reminiscent of typical SAT prep books, but something about them is a little bit....odd. Many of the word list definitions are a bit off--reading more like a bad thesaurus. This oddity is compounded by an ever present written reminder stressing the limited interchangeability of synonyms on every word list page. Beyond this, the materials seem to stress English language skills more than SAT test taking skills. It's becoming increasingly clear to me that these materials were probably not written (nor intended to be used) by native English speakers.

Second, my students have all apparently been enrolled, against their will, for four or five hours of summer classes a day at this learning center by their parents. And they hail from all over the Bay Area. In fact, I think all of them have a longer commute than me. Based on this committment, you'd think this learning center was something exceptional. That certainly remains to be seen.

What is clear, however, is that none of my students actually want to be there. And who can blame them. Who actually wants to take an SAT test prep class? But this is worse than the typical class, where the students grudgingly show up because they know it'll improve their scores. These kids actually don't want to be there at all. With rare exception, I don't think they even appreciate that their scores might improve by being there.

So early on I expressed my sympathy for their predicament and proposed a sort of compromise. They commited to doing the work and being reasonably attentive; and I promised to try to make the class as quick, painless, and effiecient as possible. I try to make it entertaining as well, but how interesting can you truly make the SATs? Most of the time it's all I can do to keep them alert and focused.

Sir zLog's Imprint

Bob recommended and generously lent me his paperback copy of Alexander Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Upon opening the book, I was surprised to find an imprint. Embossed on the first page are two simple, yet elegant concentric circles and the words "Library of R D Z".

Noticing Bob's imprint brought me to wondering about the state of my own library. Though it has been neglected of late, perhaps my collection could benefit from a similar mark.

When I was younger I resisted making any sort of notation in books--so that the next reader would be able to experience the work by itself, for itself, unfettered by any distractions. This position makes perfect sense when it comes to highlighting, underling, and margin notes.

But a simple imprint detracts little, if anything, from the pristine encounter of a first time reading. At most it informs you of who it belongs to (and presumeably likes it). If such knowledge alters your perception of a work noticeably, then you are easily affected my friend.

I used to have a secondary objection, more philosophical in nature. I didn't like the idea of claiming ownership of a text that is the product of someone else and truly property of the world. But this thought applies mostly to the idea of the book, and not to any individual printed book per se.

In point of fact, my books are indeed mine. Collected across almost two decades, I am proud of my assemblage of literature. Perhaps it's time for me to formalize my piles of books into a proper collection with a mark of my own.

Chinese Company Intends to Build MGs in Oklahoma

Nanjing Automobile Group has called a press conference to announce that it plans to resurrect the fabled MG marque with a redesigned MG TF Coupe to be built in Oklahoma. They also plan to build a TF Roadster version at MG's closed factory in Longbridge, England, and three sedan models in China.

From the New York Times Article By Nick Bunkley:

The company says its lineup will be true to MG's heritage, to the delight of enthusiasts such as Roger Parker, a technical consultant with the MG Owners' Club.

The club, run out of a large MG parts shop near Cambridge, England, has about 40,000 members worldwide. Many live in the United States, despite the brand's 26-year absence here.

MG, originally called Morris Garages, began selling cars in the 1920's. Its iconic TC convertible was a big hit in the United States after servicemen grew attached to earlier MG models in Europe during World War II.

"MG was really an integral part of the foreign car revolution that started in the late 40's and early 50's," Automobile magazine co-founder David E. Davis Jr. said. "They weren’t terribly good cars, but they were so different and they were so much fun to drive that we all forgave them for their lack of reliability and fragility."

The brand withdrew from the American market in 1980, leaving a generation of enthusiasts longing for its return. Sales continued in other countries as ownership passed through several hands, including Honda and BMW, until production ceased in April 2005 and all 6,000 workers at the factory in England were let go.

Jeremy Anwyl, president of Edmunds.com, expects to see the new MG models sporting the brand’s distinct vertical grille and octagonal logo but without the flaws of earlier models.

“Hopefully some of the electrical problems you wouldn’t bring back,” he said. “If you really want to go for nostalgia, you put on a leaky roof.”

Jet Beetle

Submitted for your entertainment:


Ron Patrick's Jet Beetle

Check out Ron's website for the story of its creation and more interesting photos.

Back Posting Errors

Well, The back postings should have appeared, but there seems to be a handful of technical problems. I hope to have it all sorted out soon. In the meantime, I blog on.

Blogging Absence

Well, I've been remiss yet again. I have thought and typed out a fair number of posts that I have simply neglected to post. In fact when I last wrote about posting back dated entries, I had intended to actually post more than a week's worth. Instead I posted a meager three.

I wish I had a decent reason for this apart from laziness. All I can offer by way of explanation is that it has been extremely hot and I have been very tired following the long days on the courts.

Whatever the reason, I am happy to finally present a bushel of backdated posts.

Not So Subtle Nudging

Frequent readers of the kLog will have noticed his recent set of friendly(?) jabs in my direction. Were I more fire mouthed, I would warn Kris that waking dragons is a delicate affair. You never know when they might singe you in return. Fortunately for him I am merely a jFrog.

However it appears that Sir rLog has taken up Sir kLog's musical challenge. I intend to stand aside and let these two titans of cacophony do their worst.

Ongoing Heat Wave

If you doubted my previous mentions of the extreme heat, I present to you Exhibit A: the rubber wiper blades on my Camry have melted to the windshield.

Heartbreak for England and Chris Visits

Yesterday morning I drove up to Stanford to watch the England vs. Portugal match at the Graduate Student Union with Byron. Although there were two fairly large HD televisions in the pub, and a third tv upstairs in the lounge, we elected to join about 150 other people watching the game projected hugely onto the auditorium wall. I was delighted to see the droves of interested Stanford fans in attendance. A handful of Brazilian fans were noisily rooting for Portugal every time they touched the ball. I suppose it's far enough from the colonial period now that they feel secure in rooting for their former monarchial masters.

I was rooting for hapless England who, as with so many other things British, no longer dominate the game they created. They are a perpetually talented team that somehow finds a way to break the hearts of their country people with disappointing regularity. The English side had been eliminated from two of the last three World Cup's on penalty kick shootouts. This quarterfinal match would end up being true to form.

After winning Group B and defeating Ecuador one-nil on David Beckham's beautiful bending free kick in the first round of the knockout stage, England bowed out to Portugal in penalties. The game itself was well contested, both sides creating chances that amounted to nothing.

Talented Portugese striker Christiano Ronaldo, despite creating many chances, repeatedly flopped in and around the box hoping to be awarded free kicks which justly were not forthcoming. Meanwhile England could never quite find it's rhythm. Crosses into the box failed to connect with their intended targets, even when they found themselves unmarked. A teary Beckham had to come off with an injury in the second half. But the crushing blow to England's hopes came in the 63rd minute when striker Wayne Rooney, in a particularly boneheaded move, stomped on the groin of Ricardo Carvalho in a fit of frustration right in front of referee Horacio Elizondo. Rooney was presented with a red card and sent off.

Putting ten men behind the ball, leaving only the 6'4" Peter Crouch up top to attack, the English side then heroically battled a man down to end regulation with the scoreboard still blank. More impressively, England started to attack and open up play in the 30 minutes of overtime. But they could not find the net and the match went to penalties. This did not bode well for England.

With Michael Owen out with a major injury, Beckham pulled, and Rooney sent off, England was without three of its best scoring threats on penalty kicks. To make matters worse, Portugal's goalkeeper, Ricardo, had been almost impenetratable all tournament. And what's more, Portugal had beaten England on penalties at the same stage of the Euro Cup in 2004.

The shootout started, in what is an apt metaphor for the entire match, as Portugal's Simao Sabrosa scored past the outstretched arms of English keeper Paul Robinson. Then Frank Lampard's average strike was blocked by Ricardo. England was given a measure of hope as Portugal's Hugo Viana hit the post and England's Owen Hargreaves buried his shot. With the shootout tied at one, Portugal's Petit dragged his shot wide, opening the door for England. But Gerrand and Carragher were both turned away by Ricardo. Meanwhile Portugal's Helder Postiga had scored. With the match on the line, young Christiano Ronaldo walked confidently to the spot, kissed the ball, stutter-stepped on his approah sending Robinson the wrong way, and hammered the ball into the back of the net. Thus, Portugal moved on to face France in the semifinal while British fans were left to nurse an all too familiar wound.


Wayne Rooney Steps on Ricardo Carvalho.


The red card comes out for Rooney.


Lampard's penalty shot is blocked by Ricardo.


Christiano Ronaldo scores the clincher.


David Beckham and Coach Sven-Goran Eriksson disconsolate after the loss.

Later in the day, Chris drove down from San Francisco to visit and explore Almaden. I hastily gathered up Bob, Joe, and Rich to join in a bike ride and small barbecue. Although Joe opted to take a walk instead, the rest of us rode leisurely down to Almaden Lake Park and back. Yes, you read that right--Sir zLog has made his triumphant return to cycling (thanks to a nice hand-me-down from his father). While Bob and Rich pressed on ahead, Chris and I shared stories about the people from our Berkeley days. Indeed, way does lead on to way and we find ourselves long out of contact with people we once held so close.

We reconvened for barbecued burgers, hot dogs, and corn. The grilling of corn in aluminium foil was a new art to me; but Bob and Rich are old pros. I heartily recommend their methods. Andrea even dropped by a little bit later.

The World Cup, a few good friends, some food, and beautiful Northern Californian summer evening--a recipe for a good day.