Occam's Razor, 2023

Once again, I applied the idea that given competing solutions to a problem, start with the simplest. I live by that rule. It's logical, elegant, and usually a cheapass solution to expensive issues.

As I wrote here before, most problems with any machine involve fuel or fire. 

We own many used vehicles, not including tractors. I work on almost all of them. The use of Occam's Razor never failed me yet, but William of Occam never met a modern electrical system's ground fault or short circuit. For those without coursework in electrical science, I'm talking about the way any charged circuit "goes to ground," with current going to the frame of a vehicle because of a chafed or broken wire. This slowly discharges the battery. It's not dangerous (generally) in a 12-volt DC system like the Mule has; once the current of 20-40v from the engine reaches the voltage regulator, it steps down to trickle-recharge (rather than blow up) the battery. Thus arranged, a new battery can last a decade in a car; in a farm vehicle, fewer years because of all the moisture and hard use they encounter.

Still, that recharging battery is magic! That's all fine and good until one has a short from corrosion in a connector or a mouse-chewed wire somewhere, leading the battery to slowly discharge over time.

Of all our vehicles, the most thrashed, and most useful, is a Kawasaki Mule 610 we got when Nan broke her leg in 2015. It makes getting tools and supplies a snap on a large property, not to mention moving 50 lb bags of feed for chickens, bed-loads of mulch or gravel, and more. At our age, we could not get by easily without the Mule.

Until we had to do so. Something was draining the UTV's battery.

The Internet forums for these vehicles abound with complex and often contradictory advice. I've come to the conclusion they these light-duty UTVs all have a weak-spot in their electrical systems.

So I began with the cheapest, easiest fixes. After testing and ruling out expensive stuff, I replaced the $12 ignition switch (trivial), $20 voltage regulator (a bit fiddly). Still, the machine continued blowing a 30 amp fuse and the battery would not hold a charge. The battery was fairly new, so it was either 1) damaged by all the jump starts and draw-downs or 2) not the culprit.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that a parking-brake "idiot light" had a short. I simply eliminated it from the circuit and bought a new $60 battery. Now the Mule runs like new. I then spruced it up with new tail-gate and hood-release cables, cleaned the frame and engine compartment, did an oil change, cleaned the air-filter, and repaired a tire with a slow leak. I have a few more things to do before the 500-hour service, none of them major work. 

If the fuse blows again, I'll shell out $150 for a new electronic control module, a computerized device that regulates where current goes in the Mule's innards.

I cannot say that I won't thrash the Mule again, but I plan to stick to the service intervals and check my electronics more. With 400 hours after 8 years, the Mule has been used heavily by us. We don't want to have to replace it.

So as 2023 closes shop, what else have we been thrashing, aside from our poor planet and our sense of community? What if we applied Occam's Razor to some of those problems?

Here's to hoping that 2024 is bright and full of hope.

Tis the Season: For $90 Fraser Firs

Sorry, Charlie Brown. There are no trees for you at the local lot.

Even folks who sell trees call the spindly ones with a bad side "Charlie Browns," but they are hard to come by. I saw two prices today outside Pleasants Hardware: $74.99 and $94.99. I recall $5 trees on Christmas Eve, whenever possible Scotch Pines, our family favorites. We usually put up the tree Christmas Eve not out of tradition, but to save money. Mine was not a wealthy family in the late 1960s.

Today, a hundred bucks. Gulp. We have not bought a live tree in many years, preferring a Cedar we cut from our land. We remove crooked saplings and selectively thin to promote a healthy woodlot and reduce fire hazards every winter, as soon as the frost means not stepping on a Copperhead. At the edges of the woods, Red Cedars abound, and if they get sun, they usually have only one bad side and a lot of branches.

That may not be an option for many readers. Let's say you don't want to spend a bundle on a cut tree but want something nice-looking and sustainable.

I'd actually argue for a few ideas different from typical Christmas trees today. In fact, some of my ideas once marked the fad of their era.

1) Go Lucy van Pelt, not Charlie Brown. We bought, in a moment of irony, a silver tinsel tree. It's only 2' tall but it evokes childhood memories of the basement of Standard Drug in what is now Richmond's Carytown. The basement was only open in those years for the holiday season, stocked with toys and a lot of aluminum trees in one corner. The drug store put out a really nice winter wonderland, with fake snow, lots of ornaments, and colored lighting. It was magical to a kid, especially blue lights on the silver trees. The whole idea of metallic trees fell from favor for many decades but now it's BACK. Mind you, today's fake trees are Chinese made, not from a factory in Hoboken or Sheboygan or San Diego. 

2) Spend a lot on a really nice artificial tree. Not in the mood for a shiny pink aluminum tree, Charlie? A quick look online to find realistic-looking green trees ranging from 200 to 2000 dollars. To be honest, the mid-range ones appear fantastic. Look for ones that are not too regular; I saw a tree for nearly $2000 that had every branch shaped identically. Real trees do  not look that way. Once  you find the right tree, however, it could last you decades. Amortize a $400 tree and you might spend 20 dollars for each of 20 seasons. That's a quarter what a tree-lot example costs, without inflation. Like my tinsel tree, these trees do not need water and won't drop needles.

3) Plant a live tree and decorate it outside. If you have the yard for it, a 6' evergreen can come your way for under $150. For five years or so, until it gets too large, you can add lights and all-season decorations. If it's a dwarf conifer, you might be able to make it your Christmas tree for decades.

4) Get Your Goose (Feather). There's a German tradition of the "Goose Feather Tree" I only learned about today. Take a gander with Mr. Google or Mr. Bing or that Duck Duck Go fellow. The original Goose-feather trees were created by dyeing feathers green to simulate branches, then attaching them to a trunk. You can buy them ready to assemble today, at decent prices. They don't have the density of Fraser Firs, but the sparse branches let you show off large ornaments.They look quaint and cozy to me, like a Walton's tree John Boy brought down the mountain.

5) Become a Druid. A friend who studied modern-day Druidry had a bare branch in her home, beautifully decorated. It evoked the slumber of our current season. It was striking to see and when Yuletide ended, it could go in the compost or wood stove.

I am out of ideas.  But have a tree, whatever your faith. It's a wonderful tradition. A Blessed Solstice, Happy Hanukkah, and a Merry Christmas to  you.

Keeping Our Security System Local (For Now)

I cannot live without a home alarm system. It's just how I roll. Now in the country, it's good to have it include fire notification as well.

Several years ago, after a lightning strike blew up our home security system, the then-giant security firm ADT revealed that it had begun to act arrogantly toward residential customers. We said farewell and went with a locally owned firm, Richmond Alarm. They installed a new control pad, surge protector that ADT neglected, and lower monthly monitoring fees.

I consider a good home-alarm system as essential to my peace of mind as clean water. Richmond Alarm had been around a century and seemed unlikely to be going anywhere.

Then they vanished. An out-of-state firm purchased them and swore nothing would change. Within a year, an internationally owned company called Johnson Controls took the helm, outsourced customer service to an Indian call center, with nice but poorly trained workers who read scripts. I began to get voicemail reminders multiple times monthly from India, reminding me to pay my invoice. I blocked all the numbers.

I've never missed a payment, and we auto-pay. Meanwhile rates went up and local employees got the boot.

Now we are about to give Johnson the big farm boot. We considered DIY options from Nest and Ring, but in the end, our setup is complex, covering out-buildings and our home, while our data caps low. We lucked out finding a firm whose headquarters is a few miles from our farm. They can reuse most of the Johnson hardware and upgrade a few dodgy sensors to communicate with our control panel and phone apps.

All that with no hit on our puny WiFi internet data caps.

The moral here? If you live rural without broadband and need a security system, your options may be limited. Starlink's base plan provides 2 TB of data a month, as compared to Verizon's 100 GB. We don't stream media except a movie every few months. We don't watch TV series (unless we can get a DVD). The guy from our new provider looked at us like we were from outer space, but then he said "Starlink would be perfect for you if you add a doorbell camera." 

That may be down the road, or even a DIY setup. Security systems are not cheap, and monitoring is a monthly expense, but the price of a break-in is years of trauma.

Right now, I'm thankful to have a local option again. And I'll be in line for a Starlink antenna.

Image courtesy of Lorie Shaull at Flikr

A (Darn Straight) Right to Repair

 I have begun using the term "stealership" when referring to the automotive dealers' service centers.

Granted, I know some dudes at Mini, and they have given me sweetheart deals over the years. They knew I'd be coming in to buy another car, eventually. Granted, I used to know a tech or two at Honda, before I got the chops to fix on my own the two CR-Vs I've had. But, still.

 With my wife's 2019 Toyota Tacoma due for its first non-free service at 30K miles, I asked her to get a price on the work: oil change, filters, checking differentials and transfer case, lubing the few points on the chassis that are not sealed. Price? Nearly 300 bucks.

"Get out," said I, looking at the owner's manual. I knew that I could do the same work for a lot less. I made a list, because modern companies still give you a maintenance schedule in your owner's manual. Use it.

This post is not a "tsk tsk" for those of you who don't have tools or time to DIY maintain your rides. I have been blessed with an inherited lift we got back in service last year, time to learn how to use tools, plus a decent collection of same. I write for an automotive publication. I should be able to turn a wrench by now.

My family was famous for its mantra "call some guy!" I've written recently about this philosophy. My mom's brother-in-law, Carlyle Rourke, resisted it. He had a 1964 Mercury Comet 4-door that he kept into the late 1980s. He did everything on that car, and when my first Buick Apollo needed an oil change, he showed me how. My old man told me "get a real mechanic to check your work, boy." I told Pop that if the car was not puking oil into the street, and the dip-stick was right, I'd just take my damn chances.

Today's vehicles are a long way from that Comet, but there are many things one can do on modern vehicles, and thank you, YouTube mechanics, for showing us how. For Nan's truck I soon had torque-specs for all the bolts I'd need to tighten, techniques for doing things without spilling oil on myself (here I failed. Toyotas are odd that way), and so much more that would put you to sleep if I listed them.

Like the OCD person I am, I wrote it ALL down in order of service, with numbers for torque specs beside each item on the 30K list.

With three hours of backache-inducing work, it all was done. I did have to order sockets from Amazon in sizes I didn't have. I tried local businesses but they either put me on endless holds or told me I'd have to buy a set.

Pffft. I got next-day delivery from Bezos' company and a good price. At the end, for $76 including the half-case of Amsoil 0w20 plus filter and Toyo-specific filter-wrench I needed for the oil change, I handily came in at 1/4 the price of the dealership.

Now that many states are pressing for right-to-repair laws, may I humbly suggest you go to Harbor Freight or Northern Tool, buy a cheapass set of wrenches, and watch some YouTube videos? See a few how-to examples at other sites? Some of them have wonderful senses of humor.

It's the 21st Century version of sticking it to the Man. Come bust a knuckle or two with em.

A Cylon Provides Homesteading Advice

Some time ago I picked up a booklet from an extension agency for first-time homesteaders. So I decided to see what an AI might say on this topic. I'm actually impressed. It provided answers "tailored for your tractorpunk perspective"but it's a better caretaker of the land than most humans I know. 

It also covers all the things we have done, sometimes after mistakes, or are planning to do with our land.

Okay, the blog is done. I'll just let  you ask an AI from now on :P

Joe: Good afternoon. I'm going to do a post at my blog Tractorpunk.blogspot.com and am curious about what advice you might synthesize for a new homesteader moving to a rural area. I figure a machine would have some good ideas because tractors are machines, too.

ChatGPT: Good afternoon! Moving to a rural area and starting a homestead can be an exciting and rewarding adventure. As a fellow machine enthusiast, I'm happy to provide you with some practical advice for new homesteaders based on the principles of machinery and efficiency. Here are some tips tailored for your tractorpunk perspective:

1. Research and Plan Like a Well-Engineered Machine:

Survey the Land: Understand the lay of the land, soil quality, water sources, and microclimates. This knowledge will help you plan your crops and animal husbandry effectively.

Set Clear Goals: Define your objectives clearly. Are you focusing on sustainable farming, self-sufficiency, or maybe even a small-scale agricultural business? 

2. Prepare the Ground for Planting:

Soil Testing: Conduct soil tests to determine its health. Tractors need solid ground to operate efficiently, just like your plants need healthy soil to grow well.

Composting: Start composting organic waste to create nutrient-rich soil. It's like fueling up your tractor with the best quality diesel.

3. Choose the Right Seeds and Livestock:

Diversify Crops: Plant a variety of crops to ensure resilience against pests and weather fluctuations.

Livestock Selection: If you plan to have animals, choose breeds that are well-suited for your climate and have a low impact on the land.

4. Implement Efficient Farming Practices:

Crop Rotation: Just like rotating tires ensures even wear, rotating crops maintains soil fertility and reduces the risk of diseases.

Rainwater Harvesting: Install systems to collect rainwater. Water conservation is vital for any farm, just as fuel efficiency is essential for tractors.

5. Embrace Sustainability and Self-Sufficiency:

Alternative Energy: Explore solar power and wind energy. Just as tractors are becoming more eco-friendly, your homestead can too. 

Preservation: Learn techniques for canning, fermenting, and drying food. Preserving your harvest ensures a year-round supply, much like storing fuel for the seasons when your tractor needs it most.

6. Community and Knowledge Sharing:

Local Networks: Connect with local farmers and homesteaders. Sharing knowledge and resources is like having a community of well-maintained tractors—you all help each other out.

Continuous Learning: Stay updated with the latest agricultural practices and sustainable farming techniques. A well-maintained tractor is a knowledgeable one!

7. Maintenance and Care:

Regular Inspections: Just as tractors need regular check-ups, inspect your crops, animals, and equipment regularly.

Adaptability: Be prepared to adapt your strategies. Just like a tractor that can handle various attachments, your homestead plans might need adjustments based on experience and changing circumstances.

8. Safety First:

Protective Gear: Just as you wear safety gear while operating machinery, prioritize safety on your homestead. This includes proper equipment use, fencing dangerous areas, and having a first aid kit on hand.

Remember, every successful homesteader started with a passion for their land and a willingness to learn. Your journey, much like a well-maintained tractor, will get smoother with time, care, and a bit of mechanical ingenuity. Happy homesteading and blogging! If you need more specific advice, feel free to ask.

Joe: Dang, son, you sound like a farmer! If you were in a Cylon Chassis I'd hire you.

ChatGPT: Thank you! I'm here to assist and provide you with the best advice possible. While I might not be in a Cylon chassis, I'm always here to help you with any questions or tasks you have. If you have any more inquiries, whether they're about farming, blogging, or anything else, feel free to ask. Happy homesteading!

Robot cultivator courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.

Call Some Guy? When Do You Do That?

After the remnants of a tropical storm brought 5 inches of rain to us in two days, our well-water again grew cloudy. Our well-house, below ground level, had flooded. 

Living with a well is always an adventure. 

Was it time to call some guy? My old man, whose tool-kit consisted of a claw-hammer and 16D nail, would say that if those two items did not fix something. "Boy, we better call some guy!"

I have done this thing myself, DIYer that I am. We have had this water issue before, after an earthquake (!) knocked a huge chunk of concrete out of the well's casing. Silt would pour into the well with heavy rain. I called some guy.

That time we spent thousands of dollars to get the casing repaired. Those repairs included a pallet-load of cement to fill a void as large as a closet and a UV filter installed for the water line. 

This time, we rode it out. Here's why.

Rural life involves lots of trade-offs, not least of which involves the expense of getting work done by others. Most of the time, to save money and remain as self-reliant as possible, we "make do or do without," so we have filtered water for a week as the ground-water level dropped. 

The well was, after all, undamaged. To have a firm come out and pump out the well house would cost a lot of money. I have a jet-pump, but I also have a day job that has gotten very busy of late. So out came the water filters for camping. 

No amount of self-reliance equates to self-sufficiency, a pernicious American myth I've critiqued here before. I put down my test of tests to this: is the cost of the repair vs. the time I'd need to do it myself so high that I am willing to surrender X hours of my time, bust knuckles, maybe risk an injury?

When the answer is "yes," I get out the tool box. If "no," I call some guy. That is not a defeat, but it's also not an invitation to be helpless and not learn skills.

No offense, but when something minor goes wrong at the rental property, my tenants never fix things that I can fix in ten minutes. First, they have me and I work just up the street. Second, there is fear of making something worse. My current tenants have some "skills" and can at least diagnose problems. I've had others without even a screwdriver or pair of pliers in the house. It's a form of learned helplessness I simply do not understand, but at least the rent gets paid by these good folks.

So learn some skills, but learn your limitations, too.

If you are an entrepreneur, I strongly recommend setting up a handy-man firm called "Some Guy" with the motto "Got a home problem? Call Some Guy!” That’s 1-800-Some Guy or  callsomeguy.com." 

That URL is not taken, so get busy. There's a fortune to be made.

Figs, Figs, Everywhere

My grandfather Sam spent most of his life trying to grow figs, before climate change made it ridiculously easy in our bioregion.

That is the one good thing I will ever say about global warming.

This time of year, my nephew Mike Ryan (as big a madman as I am) will text me with a "hey, Uncle Cheapass! I want them damn figs!" and I deliver, delighted that one person in my extended family at least loves fresh figs as much as my grandfather and dad did. Or as much as my wife and I do now.

Growing fig trees is not that hard, once they get established. Chicago Hardy is a variety that works well here. Further south Brown Turkey is a good bet.

But what to do with the thousands--and I am not kidding--of figs that even four trees can produce in a year? Here's the plan, Stan.

 And where do we go for ideas about how to deal with lots of excess fruit or veg? Why the National Center for Home Food Preservation, of course!

They feature the best canning recipe ever for fig jam. Even non-canners could make this one work. It cans in a boiling-water bath in 5-10 minutes, depending upon the size jar.

We have not bought jam in years, in consequence. Plant some fig trees and give it a try. Sam would be so happy to know that folks are growing figs. Once you get in the habit, you'll never let it go.

That Mighty Fine Old Hose

 Joke coming. Leave now if you wish.

"How many Virginians does it take to change a light bulb?"

"Only one to change it and five more to talk about how mighty fine that old bulb was!"

Lots of truth here. So when a 40-year-old garden hose finally gave up the ghost, I had my next blog post.

My father passed 21 years ago, and that seems like yesterday. He bought a house in 1975, on Fitzhugh Avenue in the near West End of the City of Richmond, and I only lived there for four years before college, but I came back for a year and a half after. Those were very happy years for us all. About that time, in 1984 or so, he redid the yard and went to a local hardware store. He bought the best garden hose they offered. "Real rubber!" he said, still house-proud a decade later. He as no yard-guy, but he believed in keeping up appearances on a block where the neighbors often went all-out for their little 1/3 acre city yards.  That hose was astounding; it coiled up naturally without kinks and was easily to move around.

Yes, a mighty fine hose it was.

I miss the old man immensely, for all his difficult personality tics. After a life of hard toil behind the wheel of a truck he'd made it, owning a produce warehouse with his cousin Leroy. He was a beloved boss, too. Maybe he treated his employees so well because he remembered terrible privation.

He grew up in desperate poverty in the Great Depression, served in the Navy during World War II, raised a family with my mom in a little row-house. A detached two-story home in a neighborhood full of assistant bank-managers and insurance salesmen, with an Olds or Buick out front? The American Dream. I miss that too. It's gotten so super-sized since dad's day. I am rather glad he's not around to see things now.

That old red hose? It moved with us after mom passed away, and I used it for years until we moved to the country in 2012. Then it served well in our garden, with some fraying finally catching up to it near the end. I used a special leak-stop tape but that only bought me a  year. This summer, the old hose had to go.

Why do we fret over material things so much? In my case, that old hose told a story that only mom and I knew, and maybe my oldest sister. Sis and I are the only ones left. Now I am telling you.

Funny thing, though. This tale has an ending not only happy but sustainable. We found that most of the old hose is just fine, still flexible and intact as ever. I cut off 10 bad feet or so, then another 20 good feet from the far end. That length will help me water trees, attached to the water tank I carry around in my UTV for saplings when the weather here goes into a prolonged dry spell.

 

If the hose lasts four more decades, it will outlive me. And there the story will end, happily in fact.

Applesauce! Yes, You Too Can Can This

You need not be a can-can dancer, though that might be fun, to put up applesauce.

Our trees produced about a bushel this year, a record. We were proactive with copper-sulfate spray to thwart blight, and I will try it again next year, 

We also head to Fruit Hill Orchard in Palmyra VA a few times in September and October, as their harvest comes in. We end up with lots of apples.

I found this recipe, perfect for the novice canner, at The National Center for Home Food Preservation, my go-to for safe canning advice. You can can applesauce in either a boiling-water or pressure canner. It cans fast and, in my pressure canner, with only 5 lbs pressure. How fast? I wrote this post while the sauce sat in the canner.

Nothing from the store tastes as good.

Doesn’t that sound like more fun than looking at a screen? So print the recipe, go pick a bushel, and make some sauce. Now.

The Joy Begins When the Wrench Stops Turning

Yesterday, while changing spark plugs on our 2006 Honda, I said to no one in particular, “I hate this!” I had dropped a magnetic tool that lifts plugs out of the deep wells in the engine’s head. The tool clattered into the inky depths of the engine compartment, to lodge itself about 1" beyond my reach. Even with the car on the lift, it took me 30 minutes to get the magnet as well as the tool that tried to retrieve it, after I dropped that too. 

Yet would I do it again? Or call some guy?

I would do it again myself in a heartbeat. Here’s why.

I look forward to reading Matthew Crawford’s book Why We Drive. I met him a few times and talked mechanic-talk when his wife Beth worked at my university. Our philosophy about being gearheads and DIYers is similar. I think he has a Distributist bent, as I do. We seem to both disdain US corporate capitalism, where billionaires own most things and pay the least, as well as communist ideals of "workers controlling the means of production," which so often means a different elite concentrates ownership of capital while duping those workers. As I currently understand Distributism, we all ARE the means of production. In an ideal world of this economic model, we'd all build our own cars or have 100 co-ops doing this to achieve an economy of scale. We'd grow our own food and build our own houses. We'd do a lot by barter.

Think Amish with more tech, though the Amish I've met are very savvy capitalists.

But back to DIY work. Matt enjoys working on vehicles more than I do. That said, we share a passion for knowing our machines. Modern vehicles are fiendishly complex, designed to force us back to the dealership’s overpriced service department. Yet there exists a sweet spot between the Model A Ford's knuckle-busting simplicity, with its concurrent lack of safety and environmental features, and today's computers on wheels. For most of these vehicles from the 1940s-early 2000s, most wrench-turners can do routine repairs and service at home with the help of the parts store and YouTube.  

When I'm done and things work well, I then enjoy the result. My passion to do more gets rekindled.

Yes, I have the enormous advantage of a full tool kit and an automotive lift. But I didn't start that way, when Uncle Carlyle and I first changed the oil on my original 1974 Buick Apollo: we used ramps, a catch pan, shop rags, and a small set of wrenches.  Today, oil-changes are easy for me and often I have them finished in 15 minutes. I feel great satisfaction, too, knowing I used the best components for less than a quick-lube shop would charge me for hasty work and bargain-grade lubricant.

You may have a vehicle that is very complex; these are modern vehicles that I've yet to have break on me, though my wife's 2017 Mini has a control panel that terrifies me. It's a $9500 fix, but for now, it is under warranty. For these complex cars and trucks, feature-creep that means every system on a vehicle gets monitored by sensors and subject to proprietary software that costs thousands of dollars, if a company will even share it (not all states have right-to-repair laws). In consequence, a clerk at Advance Auto, while selling me a battery for a car, told me they no longer can help with most vehicles after the 2013 or 14 model year; they have to be taken to a dealership to have the computer reset.

That's far beyond my skills, though I can read and reset Check-Engine codes with a 20-buck OBD II scanner and my smart phone. We do what we can, but overall, I'd still purchase the most minimalist technology I can to avoid the expenses of dealer-mandated service.

I want to invite each of you reading to this fix something instead of saying "call some guy!" My old man, whose tool kit consisted of a claw hammer and a 16D nail, would say that constantly when his two tools could not fix something. I refused to comply with his orders regarding repairs. After my Uncle showed me how to change my own oil, dad told me to have "some guy" at an auto shop check after me. I told him "hell no."

Now I want to start a handyman service called "Some Guy Repairs." Our motto: Call Some Guy Right Now!

You may well break the item you try to fix the first time. You might get it half-way right. You may lose parts. But as a colleague at work always reminds me, "don't let perfect be the enemy of good."

Start with a simple item; I don't recommend you trying to repair a home HVAC system or your car's brakes, but you might fix the cord on an electric fan or figure out how to change your own tire, so you can take the flat to the shop instead of having the vehicle towed.

You will end up with dirty hands but a sense of accomplishment.

What Could POSSIBLY Go Wrong?

My osteopath, an otherwise sane man who helps me manage my arthritis, was all aglow about a new tool on his horse farm (PhDs keep veg gardens; MDs have horses). I stopped him right in his tracks.

"One-hand chainsaw? You are going to kill yourself, doc!"

These battery-powered tools are all over the search engines, and they scare me far more than my monster Husqvarna 20" bar tree-feller. Why? 

All saws kick back at some point or other. "Kick back" often happens when a saw binds up in a fallen tree. It can meant horrible injury or instant death if said saw hits one's femoral artery or cranium. That's why I wear Kevlar chainsaw chaps and a forester's helmet when I go to drop a tree or cut one up that has already fallen.

The dude in the photo above sure looks smug. I see absolutely no chain-brake on his little deadly toy. The brake has saved me from time to time when a chain slipped off the saw's bar. It instantly stops the saw when it kicks back or loses its chain.  

I can imagine home-owners going out to trim small limbs and not even wearing thick gloves. Oh, what could possibly go wrong? Look here for one horror story. Here's to hoping  you don't own one of these crazy things, at least until the Federal Government regulates them so they have the same safety features as full-sized chainsaws.

My recommendation? At the very least buy a helmet with face guard and a pair of chainsaw gloves. Heck, get the chaps too. The store near me does not sell spare legs or fingers.

Better yet? Get a small conventional chainsaw that is battery powered. All the manufacturers make them now. If  you have the mobility and strength, get a good pruning saw. My Felco is awesome. Be safe, please.

Two Amish Dudes Save Our Pantry

I wrote last year about how silly it is building an economy around going out to eat. It's terrifying to think about my students, with parent-provided credit cards, eating out several times per week.

I still hold that idea that a foodie economy is doomed in the long run, though I'm a "foodie" and love nice meals. I also love eating in restaurants. Yet it's too easy, when worn out from work, to say "oh, let's get a pizza." That way lies going over-budget for the month. Even where we live in the country, a really nice pizza place is no more than 20 minutes away.

So what to do? I find it hard not to scream at them, when friends tell me "oh, today we went out to XYZ and had the delightful ABC." I can imagine the $40 tab per person, for lunch. At dinner? Might be $100 per diner.

Nope nope nope. Spending that much green money on a regular basis is insane. So what do we do? Do we eat franks and beans nightly, like Ralph and Alice Kramden? Children, Google that or have your AI explain who they were and why the Kramdens were once culturally important.

No, though I enjoy both Hebrew National Franks and Bush's "Country Style" beans, one need not eat them nightly to pinch that penny until it hollers. There is the Amish option. We can our own produce quite a bit, but it does not tend to be green veg. Imagine my delight when I found Jake and Amos products at The Cheese Shop near the farm where we buy all of our chicken feed. Once per month, we drive to the Shenandoah Valley to get provender for the birds and side-dishes for us. 

I contacted the company, headquartered in Myersville, PA, to find out if Jake and Amos are real. If they did not exist, we would need to invent them.  As of this post running, no reply.

 Tonight (yes, Hebrew National Franks!) we had pickled asparagus, beets, and mushrooms. Dinner issues? Solved. And what taste! For most of my life, I've associated canned food with limp, lifeless veg. That's doubly so since I began home canning. We cannot do it all,  however, so it was a joy to find a product to fill in where our garden cannot.

Fill that larder. Say no to expensive restaurant meals, making them a well-deserved and rare reward on special occasions. The Amish would approve.

Bonk! Flashlight Smack-Down On The Farm

Remember your parents' D-cell flashlights when the power went out? If your dad was a Postwar Prepper sort, he'd swap the batteries before Hurricane Season and stock up on more. Maybe he had one of the big plastic lights that held a 6-volt battery? 

I loved those. It was a manly thing. My dad was manly, but he was Type B about tools (unlike me). If we could find the flashlight, it almost never worked.

When Maglite hit the market, I got him a four-battery monster. He loved that light and took good care of it. He hated getting gifts, but that was one he not only accepted from me but actually talked about. It was as purposeful as a cop's nightstick. A paramedic friend said he had to use his for exactly that purpose. Nuff said.

We've had a bit of a revolution since the 1990s, featuring small flashlights with LEDs.  Forget that nostalgic Rayovac in the bathroom closet. It might throw 30 lumens, fine for finding your keys, when the cat bats them under the sofa.

The new LED lights often recharge with a USB cable, are light, waterproof, and rugged (or so the makers promise).  They can also blind someone, so be careful where you shine the things.

But how well do they work? I have owned a couple and here are a few basics:

Size: Lads, it truly no longer matters. Some of the smaller lights produce blinding light at long ranges.

Power:  These new lights provide illumination of 1000 lumens or more (a lumen is the light of a birthday candle) but no more hunting for batteries. This benefit comes with reduced run-time for rechargeable lights. Read on for more thoughts about that.

Function: Generally, these lights all feature a quick on/off button on a "tailswitch," a high/low beam and with some meant for self-defense, a strobe feature.  

Cost: Prices run $40-$200 or more. But do you get what  you pay for? Let's see.

Streamlight  & Four Sevens

Streamlight was king of the hill for a while, without any competitors.  I bought what I thought was an early model because a policeman recommended it to me. It turns out to be a (now discontinued) Four Sevens model called a Maelstrom MMR-X. It ran me about $75, new, at a sporting-goods store where I buy most of my reloading supplies.

For a few years, it was my constant companion, spotlighting paths after dark and one half a dozen occasions, showing me a Copperhead ready to bite me when I had to go out to the chicken coops or garden after dark. For that purpose, it was small enough to hold in my off hand while my shooting hand held a big old Ruger revolver for doing what big old revolvers do best. It has hi/low/strobe lighting.

The range is stunning: up to 100' on high with perfect illumination, for it and a bona-fide Streamlight I picked up last year while the Maelstrom was out of service.

Both Four Sevens and Streamlight focus on the military/police end of things; many have rounded points on the front fork, for breaking a car window when you are at the bottom of Loch Ness, then bonking Nessie on her reptilian head. That weaponized feature seems a constant with flashlights now, especially the Four Sevens line. I dislike the militia-look of the gear, but the light is a darned good companion.

Newer Streamlight products don't appear quite so fierce, but they remain the Maglites of the 2020s, minus the heft and size. Cops seem to love them, and for good reason. They are rugged (with one exception).

Therein lies the problem with the rapidly changing market for lights. My Maelstrom broke its tail-switch after trouble-free years of being dropped, left out in the rain once or twice, and used continually. It worked, but the button needed to be held down for it to function. Not good in an emergency. Here's the pesky switch that broke.

Most of these lights get activated by pushing a rubber-covered button at the back of the light. That's handy for a light mounted on a rifle, something most of us won't ever need to do. The tail-switch, to me, proved the weak link on this light. A tiny bit of plastic broke in there, rendering my light less than optimal until I found a replacement part, not an easy process.

Four Sevens no longer stocks the parts. It was tough sledding: Searches for "Maelstrom" turned up a new Four Sevens line. Luckily, an eBay seller's picture matched my light. It was listed as a Four Sevens MMR-X tail cap. 

As fate had it, the switch fit. As the part is no longer manufactured, I will order another one ASAP since it seems the only part likely to break or wear out under my rough handling. $16 costs less than a new light. I should be good another 20 years, as the rechargeable battery can be replaced easily. By age 82 I'll just hire some burly dude to carry my next light and bonk offenders with it.

My second Streamlight, still in production, is a Stylus Pro. It runs about $50 at Amazon. No milsup pretenses here: just a light the size of a dry-erase marker. Same tail switch. Nice little heavy nylon belt holster. We'll see if this light lasts. It's very solid, but the switch worries me.

Nebo 

Was a brand new to me, but already we have two of their lights: a larger hand-held light called a Slyde and a headlamp for my wife's work in the chicken coops. 

The larger light works beautifully, with more lumens than either Streamlight. The switch is on the side, and the entire light slides apart to reveal an area lamp, which shuts off the front beam. That's a nifty feature for working around my dogs in the gloaming. I don't want to blind them, but opening the light just a little throws enough ambient light to see their bowls, the holes they dig around their shelter, and the young dog that loves to get tangled up with me until I fall down.

You can see the area light here. I'm not sure if Nebo fixed what we call "accidental discharge," after a line by a flashlight-geek in a YouTube video. We say it with a laugh but it can be an issue when the light slides open accidentally. Nebo should have included a small release button. Perhaps newer models have that. 

I do like the magnetic base, so the light can double as a small shop-light on a vehicle's frame. I stuck it to the trunk lid of my Miata just now, to jump the car's weak battery with a portable jumper-pack I travel with.

This Nebo runs down its battery quickly, but a USB-C cable tops it back off overnight. Given its short run-time and weight, it's not a light I'd take backpacking. It has replaced the Four Sevens in the drawer by the back door. On the trail, however, the Four Sevens or Stylus Pro would be all I'd need.

Nebo's Slyde too has the "bonk 'em on the head" front end, though the feature is not so pronounced. More of a "dope slap" than a baseball bat's wallop, perhaps? I picked up the Nebo hand-held for about $50, on sale during a special event. It now costs considerably less.

I think our headlamp ran $65 at Amazon. It is the finest headlamp I've encountered. My wife confirms that she's not had to recharge it yet, so it bests the bigger light in that department.

These lights, like the Steamlight, seem very rugged. Again, with the switches, time will tell.

Maglite 

This US manufacturer has not broadly embraced the "Tacti-cool" look of competing newcomers, but their current lights do feature LEDs. What I love most? Maglite sells models like those I recall from 20 or 30 years ago, which means I can get parts easily. Before LEDs, I only recall replacing bulbs, never a spring or a power switch.

Maglites are US made, too. That warms my heart as someone who favors American-owned manufacturers when possible (save for cars; my rotten experiences in the 80s and 90s soured me on our Big Three for the duration). Beyond nostalgia, I have a lot of love for their lights, especially the rugged switches. You can still get their biggest mambo-jambo with the four D-Cells, which the company calls "an iconic design, not one of those ugly flashlights!"

Yeah, Maglite dissed my ugly lights. Bonk bonk on the head with my Maelstrom! When, not if, I buy a new Maglite, I'm going to opt for a rechargeable one with the USB cable. I might split the difference with their model that can be recharged or, in a prolonged outage, run three C-Cell batteries.

Whichever I get, I'll write about it here, as well as any solar chargers we get. Even with a week's worth of propane on hand for our generator, it would be wise to have a backup to recharge flashlights. Light matters.

Wait...they have a Mag-Tac rechargeable with a 2.5 hour run-time, recharger base, and "crowned bezel" top (for bonks on the head). 671 Lumens, "throw range" 185 meters! I feel more manly already.

Except I cannot find my flashlight. Bonk!

Gigantism, SpaceX, and von Braun's Nova

What? A post about going to the Moon here? This is a rural-life blog, true?

True. That said, I enjoy considering how the tools we use, from a good framing-hammer to a Moon rocket, reflect and reify deeply cherished cultural values.

Right now, many of us Americans seem to value huge things: McMansions, burgers that weigh nearly a pound, super-tall skyscrapers, hulking SUVs and lifted pickups guzzling gas on ten-lane superhighways. Add to that list the massive Starship Rocket Elon Musk wants to use to build settlements on Mars. While I'm not a Musk fanboy, I acknowledge that his engineers at SpaceX and Tesla have made some enormous contributions to technological progress. Moreover, they understand how failure teaches us to improve our work. I use lessons from SpaceX to encourage my students, many of whom have never experienced any sort of personal or academic failure; their first shuts them down, emotionally.

Yet as someone who wants us to explore space and eventually settle on other worlds, I'm concerned about the gigantism embodied in Starship.  Other objections to human exploration of the Moon and Mars, be those environmental, social, or economic, may have their day and their place, but I want to look at the problems of gigantism here.

Musk's dream, it turns out, is nearly 70 years old. In my first-year seminar, "The Space Race," we divide our time between considering the Soviet-US race to the Moon and the plans to return today. One chapter in that earlier race gets lost as we discuss NASA's plan to land humans there again: Wernher von Braun's massive Nova rocket. 

He dreamed up this design in the 1950s, refining it until NASA canceled the booster in 1964.  Budgets began to scale back America's space plans, as did some reasonable qualms about the danger of such a rocket exploding on the pad with the force of a tactical nuclear weapon.

Nova would have flown directly to the Moon, with its top stage, some 65' tall, landing on the lunar surface.  No complex dance of lunar lander and command module in deep space needed! As Michael Neufeld's magisterial biography of von Braun notes, the German engineer really intended to build a Mars rocket with Nova. That had always been his goal, as is Musk's in developing the Starship/Super Heavy Booster stack.

What an impressive sight Nova would have been, lifting off from Florida. Yet at the same time, what an improbable task, landing its final stage, the height of a six-story building, on difficult terrain. Then imagine doing that while seated at the very top of that building. Aldrin and Armstrong, during the Apollo 11 mission, found themselves improvising their landing when faced with boulders the size of automobiles. A larger lander than their small LEM (its outer skin was little more than foil) would have certainly toppled over had it landed poorly.

Today, NASA has a Moon rocket but not a lander, opting to have a version of Starship called HLS descend with crew for touchdown. Granted, we have better computers than anything Project Apollo employed. I doubt any human aboard would fine-tune the automated landing. Moreover, SpaceX has shown again and again that its smaller boosters can land for reuse, even on an automated platform at sea.

Why then was I so queasy when Starship's latest prototype blew up on its maiden voyage?  

Musk's company went through similar glitches with its Falcon 9 rockets. There is, however, a key difference that troubles me: the Super Heavy Booster for Starship sports a cluster of 33 Raptor engines to develop full thrust, as compared to the five F-1 engines in the Saturn V's first stage. The SpaceX design reminds me of the failed Soviet N-1 Moon rocket, a multi-engine behemoth that kept exploding on test flights. Finally the USSR ended the program, ceding the first landing to the United States.

Given the failure of Starship/Super Heavy's first launch (whatever SpaceX claims to the contrary) as well as considerable damage to the launch pad from all that thrust, I wonder if NASA will see any of its astronauts set foot on the Moon in this decade. If Starship continues to lag NASA's SLS, would we do what we might have done in the first place, stop subsiding Musk's Mars dream and instead land the components for an inhabited lunar base with several small vehicles, launched from Earth by smaller rockets?

Those of us who dream of settling the Solar System's other worlds have seen the price of gigantism before it got so scaled back that no sustainable infrastructure survived into the 80s. In consequence, since 1973 our species has been stuck in low Earth orbit.

Even if Musk's booster works, there's landing HLS safely. SpaceX's lander will stand 165 feet tall. Here it is, reminiscent of the single-stage rocket from  Irving Pichel's 1950 SF epic, Destination Moon. As in the film, people and cargo will be lowered from the nose on an elevator.

Thus I have some questions:

• why did NASA opt for an enormous lander so similar in concept to von Braun's, rejected 60 years ago?
  
• will SpaceX send a robotic excavator/roller to prepare a perfectly flat landing spot on the Moon?
• how soon will the company be able to test the Super Heavy with lander before the Artemis III mission?
• when would a robotic HLS practice landing on the Moon and then blasting off again?
  
• what plans do NASA and SpaceX have to get astronauts off the Moon if the Starship lander fails to relight its engines?

To be fair, for Project Apollo no rescue plans were feasible.

My questions may come to naught with successful tests of each component, until Starship is human-rated for flights. I also suppose that my final question, "what could possibly go wrong?" will answer itself. One troubling outcome of American gigantism played itself out with fire and debris last week, 24 kilometers above the Texas coast.

Perhaps, if Chinese astronauts set up housekeeping first on Luna, we'll see it a sad rebuke to America's infatuation with the gargantuan. 

This blog promotes thinking small; getting the Moon is big, building a permanent settlement bigger still, but if we choose that path as a species, how big need our tools be to get the job done safely and sustainably?

I don't use a sledge to hammer nails, or a backhoe to plant a new raised bed, after all.

The New Planned Obsolescence

Obsolescence is such a nice word. I like how it rolls off my tongue. In practice, however, I despise the idea of obsolescence.  Today we associate it with phones that can no longer be updated (I miss my iPhone 4, thank you very much). It still functions and I use it as a camera for eBay listings. But it cannot connect to Verizon's network. It cannot be updated by Apple.

Phones are not refrigerators, however. The simpler ones are the only ones I will buy, and they do not require software updates. No smart appliances, ever, for me.

Once upon a time, Maytag had the reputation for simple, indestructible appliances. Hence their repairman, "the loneliest guy in the world," an ad-campaign worthy of Don Draper of Sterling-Cooper.

Whirlpool, a company whose appliances I have found cheaply made in recent years, bought Maytag and just last month, we paid the price for this acquisition. We'd done our homework after a lightning-strike burned up a high-tech Samsung refrigerator we owned. 

Maytag had high ratings, and I found a floor-model at a locally owned appliance dealer at a nice discount. It had a warranty. Yet in fewer than five years, our simple top-freezer model began to die a slow death. First, the drains would not work in the freezer, so water began to drip into the lower compartment. Then the cooling in the lower compartment stopped working, despite a service call from a locally owned and well-regarded repair shop.  

As the repairman told me, nothing save a Subzero may last more than a decade. Nothing. Companies build their appliances that way, using cheaper parts than they once did, to keep prices stable while getting us to buy replacements more often.

It was not always that way. My GE circulating fan has been in action since before I was born, and the 1940s Frigidaire in my parent's kitchen endured 30 years, until we moved out of the house. Yes, it had to be defrosted. Yes, it did not make ice save in those hard-to-employ metal trays.

Luddite I can be, I wonder what we have gained except a costly convenience and, on a more positive note, energy efficiency. I yearn for government action to punish firms for this wasteful practice, but that seems such a 20th-Century idea in our Cyberpunk present.

So we purchased a simple GE "ice box," a term I still like to use, for under $1000. No ice-maker, either. I am using plastic trays. I did purchase a countertop Frigidaire ice-maker from Amazon that does not require a water-line. It recycles ice that does not get used, melting and re-freezing it. So far we have yet to plug it in, because the GE fridge works well enough for Spring weather. Come Summer we'll need more ice.

I doubt that our new GE will last 30 years, which would also be about my own expiration date. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I am going to try...mightily...to only buy things that have a reputation for longevity.

The dumber the tool, the longer it lasts. Dumb as a hammer. Ever broken one of them?

"Darkness is Good for Us": A Contrarian Idea About Winter

I had planned a post to review some promising new rechargable flashlights we used on farm, when a story caught my eye on Firefox's home screen. At first I thought it clickbait, until I spotted Atlas Obscura. The word "Darkness" intrigued my roving eye, and I clicked. 

My class had just finished reading LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea, a fine book for younger readers about a talented young man's journey to wisdom, focusing on his Taoist realization that darkness and light need to exist in balance. It's a contrary approach than that taken in much fantasy literature, where a Manichean division exists: Sauron vs. Aragorn, for instance. Darkness in Tolkien is usually metaphorical and dangerous. It tempts us to power over others, rather than power from within.

But Tolkien rises above moral dualism; he loved the natural world. In his books we get dark skies full of stars that the Elves enjoy. That literal sense of darkness as awe-inspiring and necessary brings us to a lesson from Moffat, Scotland that we might employ in our lives. To a small degree, we have been trying it where we live.  This quotation, by "Astrophotographer and dark skies advocate Josh Dury" struck me as particularly wise:

“If you squeeze the whole of human evolution into a single day, artificial lighting has been around for a minute,” says Dury. “Exposure to light at night can have serious health implications.” He adds: “It can particularly affect our body’s hormones, including the production of melatonin, which is responsible for maintaining sleep patterns and nocturnal rhythms.” 

Read the piece for inspiration. Moffat succeeded where other communities continue to blot out the sky, at enormous cost to our natural sleep cycles and the stability of our climate. Even low-energy LEDs require power to run, so they are far from carbon-neutral.

Even if we dim our own small lights, not all of us live in places where we can turn down community lighting to see the Milky Way arch over our suddenly tiny heads. We are puny, compared to the panorama overhead.

What can each of us do to bring back some darkness? I don't always succeed every day but:

• Steering clear of all screens for an hour or more before bedtime
• Leaving house lights off in rooms that are empty
• Avoiding the American trend of spotlighting a house to show it off at night
  
• Replacing interior and exterior lighting that blots out the night with task lighting where possible, and where not?
• Installing security lighting triggered by motion. Always-on means always injected carbon dioxide into our air.
  
• Considering where all lights point. We replaced large floodlights with equally bright but lower-energy LED floods pointing downward. That way, when we need to check outside during the time when Copperhead snakes roam our yards, we can see them. Once back inside, out go the lights.

Winter remains my favorite season, partly for the lack of hot, humid weather and the orderliness of a winter landscape, but also for the power of the dark sky. It's perfect for stargazing. This year I learned a few new winter constellations that I can, luckily, see where I live. Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Perseus became nightly companions. 

In town, it was Orion. That was about it. During a trip to New York City? Nothing except the Moon. Times Square is magical at night, but I'd not be able to live in a large city again for more than a short while. I'd miss the dark too much.

I hope that in years to come, we'll rediscover how powerfully darkness helps us, as creatures who evolved to benefit from both light and dark. 

Next time, the flashlights!

image courtesy of Wikipedia.

A Woodpile Essential

I love heating with wood, and I love managing a woodlot. We cut out crooked saplings, fell a few leaners, and cut up fallen trees from thunderstorms and ice-storms. I burn it all, soft or hardwood.

That can get some woodstove owners into real trouble, if they burn too much green wood. Creosote will build up, increasing the chances of a chimney fire.

Most hardwoods take a year to be ready, if you keep them dry. Pine can be ready sooner. That said, I'd not burn a stick if I didn't check it first for moisture content.

Enter the inexpensive moisture meter I picked up from Amazon or eBay (I forget) for under $50.

To burn well, the wood should have less than 20% moisture. I trust Cornell University's advice on this. A reading on a newly cut log of 100%, this site claims, means that a log's weight is half water!

Their information contends that indefinite storage can be managed, but in my experience, wood that is too dry may as well be cardboard. It goes up fast and bright without generating too many BTUs. I discovered that with an estate-sale load of firewood, mostly white oak, that I got at $20 for a full cord. It burned but the lightness of the wood told me it had been stored for many years. I was happy to be rid of it.  The R value was less than year-old pine.

Conversely, a few years back we bought half a cord of red oak that was under-seasoned. It was the first heating season in 10 where I had to buy some wood. We did not have our meter then, so I mixed the oak with seasoned wood and waited for spring, rather anxiously, since we didn't want to run our furnace and spend money that way.

The following fall, the remaining red oak burned bright and hot, and it warmed our house well. Still, I don't want to buy from that seller of "seasoned" wood again. He haphazardly covered his piles, and that's not enough to properly season wood, without air circulation.

So I recommend something like our Tavtool. I use it in the woodpile and check several sticks on the sides and the ends. The ranges vary considerably, and the values on the scope tend too rise as one goes deeper into the log. At first, this reading was 13% but it dropped fast as the tool wiggled. Still, it's in the right range to burn.

The images show a log from a small tree that came down a year ago in an ice storm. We cut and stacked it in March, in a south-facing shelter that holds about 1/4 cord of wood (4' high by 2' deep by 8' long). Here's the end of the same log.

I have never seen readings vary more than a per-cent or two, unless one part of the log had been rained on. If you are unsure, split a piece and measure inside one of the pieces. That will give you a heartwood reading.

Finally, keep your wood dry. We build wood-boxes out of construction scraps. Shelter is key to good firewood, as is stacking for air circulation. Piles on the ground can molder even if covered with tarps and around here, harbor Copperheads in the warm months. No thank you.

 

May your woodpiles stay dry until Spring. And it's not too early to start stacking wood for 2023-24. We've burned about 2 cords, down from last year, but I need to replace them and one more to have the barn and wood-boxes full.

The Idiocy of Rural Broadband, Pt. 2

In an earlier post, I talked about the struggles with had with a local provider, finally settling on a Verizon hot-spot for our needs. 

It worked well but this post will warn other rural Internet users about a device often connected to televisions: Amazon's Fire Stick. 

 Our usage amounts to limited streaming (an hour or 90 minutes), one Yoga class online, and a 30 minute office hour meeting with students in a week. Thus we never went through more than 70 GB of our 100 before hitting the data cap and having speed slowed down. I understand from friends who watch a lot of films, TV, or play games online, that blowing through a Terabyte in a month is not unusual. 

Watching anything streaming meant attaching a laptop with a series of adapters that would make Rube Goldberg proud. An in-law with (of course) unlimited fiber Internet suggested Amazon's Fire Stick. We got the lowest-cost model, running 20 bucks with free shipping. It installed in a snap and we watched without issues a documentary about those who raise show chickens, plus an episode of All Creatures Great and Small. With Alexa and an intuitive control, I figured we had it made.

A few days later, Verizon notified us that we'd hit 90 GB of use on the 6th day of the month.

The verdict? Fire Stick. These devices will continuously auto-update (and the updates are not tiny) while the TV is off, as the device connects to one's router. Moreover, when using Fire Stick, it defaults to the highest video-quality possible, a Niagara of megabytes per hour. Finally, it plays previews and other features that devour 1s and 0s faster than a sailor on leave with pay in his pocket.

The solution is simple: unplug Firestick. We've used half a gigabyte since. We will plug it in again when we next watch something. But even then, the updates would begin to download, many of which we would never need. Thus there's some very good advice here about how to reduce data usage. We turned off all the data-gobbling settings right afterward, and unplugged the AC adapter.

We are considering Starlink, with its 1 TB cap, or awaiting the coming of fiber to our part of the county.

Many of you will not have that choice, and a cellular router of 4G or 5G may be the best choice. But watch those "smart" devices that hoover up data. These now include many appliances, security cameras, and the like.

Most of them can be dialed down if you know how. It's not in the interest of Big Telecom or firms like Amazon to tell you.

Incidental and ironic postscript: 

A Google search for the string "The Idiocy of Rural Broadband" turned up no hits for my own blog, one they host! Perhaps nothing shows because I refuse to run advertisements here.

Microsoft's Bing did turn my site up faster and as a second or third hit. I'm using Bing on my iPhone for the default search engine, for what that's worth, since it links right to Apple's map application (Safari does not take you to Apple's own map application, incidentally!). 

Google seems only to want to push advertisements to us, not feature free content. At least Microsoft, a company I've long mistrusted, got it right. 

Large companies are not our friends. They see us as revenue streams, not people. They have no one-on-one relationship as a locally-owned merchant or service may.

Act accordingly whenever you can. 

Image source: Tom Woodward at Fickr.