Sunday, January 11, 2015

(35) Family pictures.

In 2004, after quite a few years, I was visiting our relatives in the Czech Republic and in Slovakia. One of the first I saw was my wife’s aunt, living at the time in Cheb, in a two-bedroom flat, together with her husband and her brother. At the beginning of my two-day visit, I made a few photographs, to comply with my wife’s wishes. Back in my hotel I downloaded the pictures in my laptop, and next day went back to see the aunt again and present the photographs. The moment the first of them appeared on the screen, a group photo of the three of them, the aunt – more than 70-years old at the time – exclaimed in horror „Jesus Christ, how horrible I am looking!!!“. The same expressions of horror continued each time she saw her likeness on the screen. At the time I did not think much of that little episode.

Next group of relatives visited was my sister in Prague, together with her husband, daughter and the daughter’s son. And again, right on my arrival I made a few group photographs of us all, downloaded them in the laptop, and prepared a presentation. This was watched by all of us. The moment the first picture appeared on the screen my sister exclaimed with utter horror in her voice „Jesus Christ, do I really look this horrible?!“. Her daughter remarked drily „Me too - is it possible to erase these pictures ? “... Looking at the pictures later with my sister’s husband and grandson we all agreed that the pictures are showing them all exactly as they were, neither flattering, nor un-flattering. 

The scene was repeated a few days later in the house of my cousin in Hradec Králové. The moment she saw herself on the screen, the cousin's wife began lamenting „...how horrible do I look in this picture ...“.

Exactly the same was repeated with my aunt in Bratislava, at my cousin’s and her daughter, my sister-in-law’s place, friends in Nitra, and, finally, in the house of my friends in Tornal’a. The women, all of them bar none, saw nobody on the screen but themselves, and all of them, absolutely all!, were unhappy with their looks. None of them made any remark about other people on the screen, about quality of the picture, about the digital process (at the time, none of them saw a digital camera, or a lap-top computer).

On the way home I was forced to wait for couple of hours at the Singapore airport. After a long walk along the mile long hall, I, like most of my fellow-travellers, ended up slumbered in front of the large television screen. At first, I did not pay much attention to it, but eventually a few familiar words have drawn me into watching it: Hitler, Rommel, desert fox, Montgomery, etc.

On the screen there was an interview with an old married couple of Arabs, who lived under what looked a heap of rocks on an elevation in a Northern African desert. They were describing a tank battle that took place some 30 years previously in a shallow valley not far from the hillock on which they lived.

First, the husband: pointing with his hand he said that from that direction there were coming dark beetles, which later we knew were tanks; from that direction, there were different beetles coming. They started shooting at each other, the noise was deafening. Soon, smoke and dust covered it all. The smoke and dust were blown in our direction, after a while I was unable to see anything. Our goats were scared and tried to hide in the dark corner of the house. When it all died down, next day, I went there. I found many broken vehicles and among them scattered dead foreign men in strange clothing...

Next, the wife: I heard tremendous noise, I was frightened and tried to hide in the house, to no avail, the noise was too strong even inside. I covered my ears, which did not help either. I did not know what to do and I cried. I did not know how long the noise lasted. Everything was covered in dust and smoke. When it finished my husband went there to take a look. I was scared and tried to talk him from going. I was afraid of remaining here alone if anything happened to him...

Remembering my relatives and friends, and their women reactions, I thought that I saw some similarity here: the Arab was talking about what he saw; his wife was talking about the effect „it“ had had on her.

Back at home I related all this to my wife. She was completely sympathetic to the reactions of the women and accused me for not giving those women enough time to prepare themselves. Knowing my wife, I did not argue, only thought to myself that the photographs would be taking an awful lot of time...

Added a few years later.

Recently I discovered 'phone numbers of two girls I was secretly in love with when we were together in the same class at the high school - 65 years ago. They both live on the other side of the globe from me, and I am in no mood of traveling any more. They seemed to be pleased on hearing my voice, and agreed to receive a letter from me, none of the two being on the internet. After a couple of letters from me I was expecting a reply - none came for a few months. Eventually I contacted them on the 'phone again only to hear that they are not in the habit of writing letters. And to my pleading to send me at least their pictures they both flatly refused, saying that I would not like to see them as they are today. Their neighbours can see them, people in public transport can see them, people in doctor's waiting rooms can see them, anybody can see them but me...

Men and women

Among other things at home my grandmother was in charge of milking their two cows, also of butter and cheese making and selling of her produce from a table outside the front gate. One day she would tell her husband that their favourite cow’s milk production is dwindling. Grandfather, after a lengthy discussion then would decide that it is about time to sell the cow and procure a new one. Her typical reaction would be the lament "Jesus Christ and Sweet Virgin Mary, such a good cow it is, so used she is to me and me to her, she never hits me with her shitty tail in the face, Jesus Christ, Sweet Virgin Mary..." Karol would say "What are we going to do then, keep her and be without milk?" "Jesus Christ, Sweet Virgin Mary, we need the milk as you well know but don't be so cruel to me and to her, Jesus Christ, Sweet Virgin Mary, she is such a good girl..."

His complaint was to the effect that if he takes the "good girl" to the market he would end up being a cruel man to both, the cow and Julia; if he doesn't take the “good girl” to the market he would be labelled as the one who does not care about the family's supply of milk (an endless variation of this dilemma is familiar to all married men).

Sunday, January 4, 2015

(34) Working as a Contract Engineer (8/8).

Around 2004, while rushing to a road accident, an ambulance vehicle crashed in a winding road in the hills around Healesville (Black Spur). The crew consisted of two paramedics, both with long years of experience in the field. In one of the sharp bends the vehicle, instead of turning, decided to go straight onto a steep downhill into the woods, and both men died on the spot. A short few weeks after the accident we had a visit from the ambulance regional management in the company I was working for at the time (HoldenSpecialVehicles at Clayton, Vic.); they were looking for help.

Their managing director Stephen Hill outlined to us the problems their vehicles were encountering, the main ones of which were overheating engines, failing batteries, alternators, and failing fuel pump management electronic module. In reply our management suggested that the offending vehicles can be subjected to tests in a wind tunnel under a variety of climatic conditions. When the ambulance management agreed, one of the offending vehicles was delivered to us the next day. I was told by the two drivers who delivered it that the overheating is not much of the problem – the „dying“ batteries were!

Testing was entrusted to a young engineer Steve Henderson, and I was asked to assist with the electrical side of the job. The vehicle spent in the tunnel some 20 hours, and it was confirmed what was obvious to both of us from the very beginning: the vehicle (a GMC Sierra base, fitted with all possible ambulance gear) was overheating because the radiator entry was clogged with all kinds of ambulance paraphernalia: driving lamps, sirens, flashing lights, etc. As soon as these were removed the engine began to work within its normal range of temperatures, regardless of the range of conditions it was exposed to in the wind tunnel. Here is the original front of the vehicle:

In spite of all the abuse we subjected the vehicle in the wind tunnel to, the engine never stopped as consequence of overheating, or due to the failure of fuel pump. I decided to pay some attention to the electrical system.

I started with examination of battery operation. Electrical situation the battery was in became obvious after only a handful of measurements: the maximum output the alternator was capable of was adequate – not vastly excessive, mind! -  for the basic vehicle. Our vehicle had a number of electrical consumers added to it, such as external lamps, beacons, sirens, a computer in the cabin, and a number of medical electrical equipment inside. No wonder the alternator was overloaded, no wonder the battery was not getting charged... The maximum output of alternator when engine was running at cruising speed was 140 Amps. and about 65 Amps. with engine at idle); a minimum output for this vehicle should have been 215 Amps. And preferably with the engine idling at that!!!

Now, for the fuel pump.
For details see
   http://cdpl1.blogspot.com.au/2007/05/gmc-sierra-65l.html)
The pump motor in this vehicle is controlled by an electronic module mounted on the engine. Engine is able to run only when the pump is delivering fuel to the injectors. When the pump stops, the engine stops; with the engine stopped the vehicle loses steering power assistance, and the power brakes, both of which immediately require fairly hard handling on the part of the driver- vehicle thus becomes difficult to handle. Possibility of the fuel pump malfunction could explain the situation the ambulance crew found itself in while negotiating a sharp bend is likely explanation of the cause of the accident mentioned at the top.

Official report, as usual, cites „a mistake on the part of the crew“; of course, a mistake it was, only it was a mistake to refuse to drive a vehicle known for the number of its failures.

The fault was of such nature as to require a lengthy negotiation with the vehicle manufacturer. As the vehicles were nearing the end of their service life it was decided to de-commission and sell all vehicles of this type, some 400 of them, I heard.

Other similar models (such as Ford 350, for instance) were not overheating as much, but their electrical system was suffering from the same problem: too many additional electrical consumers, under-powered alternator and resulting undercharging of the battery.
General hints for correct alternator requirements are shown in the following article  http://cdpl1.blogspot.com.au/2007/05/alternator-in-cars.html

After these two models I was asked to examine, and report on, all vehicles in the Ambulance’s service, some dozen of them all up. Their problems were identical with the first two vehicles, but each of them required slightly different solution.

After my results were delivered to the Ambulance management, I had to field a number of questions from various organisations involved in supplying electrical components: from alternator suppliers, batteries manufacturers, ambulance bodies outfitters, etc. When all this began die out, I decided to retire. I kept working for a while, until well into my seventies, for various electrical companies, but the lure of grandchildren, garden, golf and similar pastime was becoming too big..
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Reading my blogs from (1) Childhood, etc., through Schools, Universities and various jobs, I am quietly satisfied with my life story. I was planning to do more, mostly in vain, more due to my inability and lack of knowledge than due to some external influences, or rulings of Destiny. This is the end, and goodbye to you all who happen to stray onto these pages.