SST40 SD may be but who knows what the beam would be like.
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2019 Giveaway Thread
- Thread starter Skylumen
- Start date
Help Support Candle Power Flashlight Forum
SST40 SD may be but who knows what the beam would be like.
bigburly912
Flashlight Enthusiast
Did the wrong drawing!
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A lot of my friends and family are fairly internet private so I guess I could post things/pets that "make me happy." I'll wrangle some stuff together.
Prize: V2 ROT66vn W2 5400K or Rare SLN Prototype 6 Point Star Twisty Tail Cap + 3 Rear Trits
What to Post:
1. Pick a number from 1-5400
2. Write a short story for 1 number entry.
3. Post a picture with your story for a bonus number entry.
You may use https://imgur.com/upload to upload your image
Pick a number from 54-5454 for your entry.
You can also play and not participate in the drawing
Random.org will be used to draw 1 number from 54-5454. Whose's ever is closest win.
Must own at least 1 of my lights to participate.
Free shipping USA
I reserve the right to change rules and prize anytime I want
I have full control over the giveaway
Start Date: Now
End Date: TBD
What to Post:
1. Pick a number from 1-5400
2. Write a short story for 1 number entry.
3. Post a picture with your story for a bonus number entry.
You may use https://imgur.com/upload to upload your image
Pick a number from 54-5454 for your entry.
You can also play and not participate in the drawing
Random.org will be used to draw 1 number from 54-5454. Whose's ever is closest win.
Must own at least 1 of my lights to participate.
Free shipping USA
I reserve the right to change rules and prize anytime I want
I have full control over the giveaway
Start Date: Now
End Date: TBD
Last edited:
1. 1311
2. I'm sorry if this is grim, but it is a story I was so fortunate to have been told in person by an incredible man.
Mid January, 1945 in Ottre, Belgium. Private Tony Vaccaro is with the 83rd Infantry Regiment of the US Army in the middle of winter fighting one of the most infamous battles of all time, and perhaps one of the most well known conflicts of World War II- The Battle of the Bulge. Private Vaccaro, going against US Army protocol and given orders, has brought a personal 35mm film camera with him out of desire to show the world the real views of war. Soldier-based combat footage was exceptionally rare, largely given these directives for no combat solider to bring a camera- this was only to be done by specifically authorized photographers. For the past year and a half Pvt. Vaccaro has been documenting the war from his shoes. By the end of the war, Tony would have shot, and often developed in the field using GI helmets, over 8,000 images of his experience.
The Battle of the Bulge is known for many reasons, ferocious fighting and a return to trench warefare, relentless artillery and treebursts, fighting over Christmas, The "NUTS" correspondence, and for us here, the extreme cold and winter conditions. Many soldiers who passed quickly froze in place, some even being used as directional signs. As Private Vaccaro passed one of these soldiers, an American infantryman face down in the hard-packed frozen snow, he was compelled to take a photograph which I have known for a very long time that is entitled "White Death."
The shutter on his camera snapped, and off he went with the rest of his Regiment to continue his duty. Now as grim and sad as each of these cases may be, this instance cuts deeper than the rest. Private Vaccaro had no idea at the time of taking the picture how close to home he was that cold January day in Belgium, 3600 miles from home, New York City. For grander reasons than perhaps we can perceive, Private Vaccaro was able to return to the body when it had thawed enough to read the dog tags of the fallen American. They read: Pvt. Henry Irving Tannenbaum- a man Tony had known well from his neighborhood back home in New York City. To me, Tony spoke of him as a friend, someone he knew well and knew was also drafted, but never knew further details. Almost two years, and 3600 miles from home Tony would be one of the first to know that after the war, Private Henry Tannenbaum would not be returning home.
3.
Second Entry #3670. The distance in miles from NYC to Belgium.
I was so lucky to have met and had holiday dinner with Mr. Vaccaro via a college friend. I knew the image "White Death" before Tony sat me down with one of his books after dinner. I did not know the name of the image, and I did not know the photographer, nor of Mr. Vaccaro himself. All of my nerdy-knowledge of WWII had never before paid off quite as well as it did that dinner. I was absolutely blown away by the experience, and so incredibly lucky to have had our paths cross. It is still an experience I treasure above almost all else, it was an honor I don't know how to match. To boot, he had brought a lovely Moscato wine that the hosts did not care for, so the two friends I was with and myself so happily took care of that in a way three college kids only know how.
ETA: there is a great documentary about him that was created by the father of my friend at this dinner. Part of the reason why Tony was there that night. Fate? I don't know, but both Tony and the director were almost as thrilled as I was that they had happened to welcome someone my age who knew so much about the war, and appreciated what our men and women of days long past went through.
http://tonyvaccarofilm.com/
2. I'm sorry if this is grim, but it is a story I was so fortunate to have been told in person by an incredible man.
Mid January, 1945 in Ottre, Belgium. Private Tony Vaccaro is with the 83rd Infantry Regiment of the US Army in the middle of winter fighting one of the most infamous battles of all time, and perhaps one of the most well known conflicts of World War II- The Battle of the Bulge. Private Vaccaro, going against US Army protocol and given orders, has brought a personal 35mm film camera with him out of desire to show the world the real views of war. Soldier-based combat footage was exceptionally rare, largely given these directives for no combat solider to bring a camera- this was only to be done by specifically authorized photographers. For the past year and a half Pvt. Vaccaro has been documenting the war from his shoes. By the end of the war, Tony would have shot, and often developed in the field using GI helmets, over 8,000 images of his experience.
The Battle of the Bulge is known for many reasons, ferocious fighting and a return to trench warefare, relentless artillery and treebursts, fighting over Christmas, The "NUTS" correspondence, and for us here, the extreme cold and winter conditions. Many soldiers who passed quickly froze in place, some even being used as directional signs. As Private Vaccaro passed one of these soldiers, an American infantryman face down in the hard-packed frozen snow, he was compelled to take a photograph which I have known for a very long time that is entitled "White Death."
The shutter on his camera snapped, and off he went with the rest of his Regiment to continue his duty. Now as grim and sad as each of these cases may be, this instance cuts deeper than the rest. Private Vaccaro had no idea at the time of taking the picture how close to home he was that cold January day in Belgium, 3600 miles from home, New York City. For grander reasons than perhaps we can perceive, Private Vaccaro was able to return to the body when it had thawed enough to read the dog tags of the fallen American. They read: Pvt. Henry Irving Tannenbaum- a man Tony had known well from his neighborhood back home in New York City. To me, Tony spoke of him as a friend, someone he knew well and knew was also drafted, but never knew further details. Almost two years, and 3600 miles from home Tony would be one of the first to know that after the war, Private Henry Tannenbaum would not be returning home.
3.
Second Entry #3670. The distance in miles from NYC to Belgium.
I was so lucky to have met and had holiday dinner with Mr. Vaccaro via a college friend. I knew the image "White Death" before Tony sat me down with one of his books after dinner. I did not know the name of the image, and I did not know the photographer, nor of Mr. Vaccaro himself. All of my nerdy-knowledge of WWII had never before paid off quite as well as it did that dinner. I was absolutely blown away by the experience, and so incredibly lucky to have had our paths cross. It is still an experience I treasure above almost all else, it was an honor I don't know how to match. To boot, he had brought a lovely Moscato wine that the hosts did not care for, so the two friends I was with and myself so happily took care of that in a way three college kids only know how.
ETA: there is a great documentary about him that was created by the father of my friend at this dinner. Part of the reason why Tony was there that night. Fate? I don't know, but both Tony and the director were almost as thrilled as I was that they had happened to welcome someone my age who knew so much about the war, and appreciated what our men and women of days long past went through.
http://tonyvaccarofilm.com/
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aginthelaw
Flashlight Enthusiast
1. 1010
2. My uncle, Arnold Ramsey, who passed away this time last year, was one of the greatest fishermen I've ever known. My mother sent me to live with him in jamaica off and on when I was a kid. He had a degree in civil engineering and could probably fix anything that man ever made. He worked at several resorts in Jamaica, including the playboy club. He kind of reminded me of Redd Foxx, who was a comedian there, and they got along well. We went there to fix the pool one day and I had no idea why they were ignoring me, and concentrating on all these "bunnies" walking around (I was 8 at the time). Anyway, he stuck his hand in a vent and in an instant told them "you got crabs". Redd yelled and said he was tested. Uncle Bill as we called him, got the crystal chlorine and poured it in the pool. I then spent 30 minutes catching the crabs as they tried to evacuate the pool. For some reason they crawl in from the ocean at night and just hang out in the pool.
I give thanks for having him delivering the fondest memories of my childhood.
2. My uncle, Arnold Ramsey, who passed away this time last year, was one of the greatest fishermen I've ever known. My mother sent me to live with him in jamaica off and on when I was a kid. He had a degree in civil engineering and could probably fix anything that man ever made. He worked at several resorts in Jamaica, including the playboy club. He kind of reminded me of Redd Foxx, who was a comedian there, and they got along well. We went there to fix the pool one day and I had no idea why they were ignoring me, and concentrating on all these "bunnies" walking around (I was 8 at the time). Anyway, he stuck his hand in a vent and in an instant told them "you got crabs". Redd yelled and said he was tested. Uncle Bill as we called him, got the crystal chlorine and poured it in the pool. I then spent 30 minutes catching the crabs as they tried to evacuate the pool. For some reason they crawl in from the ocean at night and just hang out in the pool.
I give thanks for having him delivering the fondest memories of my childhood.
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OK - I'll play -
1) # 3242
2) A life lesson from my youth. I was 16. Out on a Hurricane Island Outward Bound sailing/survival training expedition. 3 teams of 12 per boat. We had come ashore on an island for the night. Harvested our supper from the shore and cooked on coffee can cookers we had made. I and a guy from each of the other 2 boats were assigned the dawn watch. We only needed to watch the boats at anchor and move them with the tide as needed and then wake everyone else up at sunrise.
We 3 however
- got it into our heads that it would be a well received breakfast treat for everyone if we gathered some muscles off the low tide rocks and had a nice hot breakfast of biscuits and muscles with tea and coffee ready for everyone. It was a beautiful sunrise and we were bouncing around elated and proud of ourselves as teenagers can be when out in nature and intent on a happy purpose. We knew the other guys would love it!
We had the fires going, food on the heat and at last it was time to wake everyone up to start this glorious day and to receive the grateful accolades of our sailing companions. Hey guys look what we have for you - :grouphug:
It was then that the Watch Leader (our instructor) casually looked around and then says - Hey Sam - how are the boats?
I looked out to the beach and with immediate regret - embarrassment - really, utter shame - I saw that our 3 - 30' boats were mired in the mud 30 feet of the shore and all of that more away from the tide water that was outgoing even as we watched.
AND SO that was the END of breakfast and any chance for basking in the glow of hot breakfast feasting comrades. We were immediately all dispatched to break down camp and then with packs and gear slug through the tidal mud to the boats which we were then tasked to CARRY/DRAG to the receding water. We had no choice. It would have been a long day of sitting on the island waiting for the tide to return to us and relift the boats. We were not waiting for that.
As you can imagine - standing in mud and trying to lift out of the mud and then drag boats from their gunwales - even with 12 guys sharing the load - was damn tough, dirty and altogether unpleasant work. This was not a friendly crowd. They had been deprived of breakfast and they were now knee deep in mud, miserable, grumpy and overworked. :scowl: :sweat::scowl: :sweat: :scowl:
ME? I was/am the very short guy in the group. Completely useless in the circumstance because I could barely reach the gunwales let alone lift and drag. So you know what I got to do I got into the boat and watched!! They were all now carrying me too! There was nothing else I could do. :sigh:
You CAN IMAGINE the amount of grief that was piled on me that day. I was - to say the least - mortified. OH - the ignominy.
The boats hauling, at last, was successful. Back IN the boats and out in the water, everyone had a chance to swim and rinse off while I, very willingly and with much humility, made up 3 dozen, or more, peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches as breakfast on the go. The day was a perfect summer day. Sailing was invigorating (at least we had wind and did not need to row) and these guys were soon enough laughing and though unforgetting, generally pretty forgiving to this little poop of a mate. How could they stay mad at someone as cute and charming as moi?
Surprising how often I think of that morning. Needless to say - if I'm assigned the dawn watch or any other task on which others depend for me to be vigilant - I don't get distracted ...
3) Would have been a great breakfast :twothumbs
Another #? If so - # 2689
Enjoy, Sam
1) # 3242
2) A life lesson from my youth. I was 16. Out on a Hurricane Island Outward Bound sailing/survival training expedition. 3 teams of 12 per boat. We had come ashore on an island for the night. Harvested our supper from the shore and cooked on coffee can cookers we had made. I and a guy from each of the other 2 boats were assigned the dawn watch. We only needed to watch the boats at anchor and move them with the tide as needed and then wake everyone else up at sunrise.
We 3 however
- got it into our heads that it would be a well received breakfast treat for everyone if we gathered some muscles off the low tide rocks and had a nice hot breakfast of biscuits and muscles with tea and coffee ready for everyone. It was a beautiful sunrise and we were bouncing around elated and proud of ourselves as teenagers can be when out in nature and intent on a happy purpose. We knew the other guys would love it!We had the fires going, food on the heat and at last it was time to wake everyone up to start this glorious day and to receive the grateful accolades of our sailing companions. Hey guys look what we have for you - :grouphug:
It was then that the Watch Leader (our instructor) casually looked around and then says - Hey Sam - how are the boats?
I looked out to the beach and with immediate regret - embarrassment - really, utter shame - I saw that our 3 - 30' boats were mired in the mud 30 feet of the shore and all of that more away from the tide water that was outgoing even as we watched.
AND SO that was the END of breakfast and any chance for basking in the glow of hot breakfast feasting comrades. We were immediately all dispatched to break down camp and then with packs and gear slug through the tidal mud to the boats which we were then tasked to CARRY/DRAG to the receding water. We had no choice. It would have been a long day of sitting on the island waiting for the tide to return to us and relift the boats. We were not waiting for that.
As you can imagine - standing in mud and trying to lift out of the mud and then drag boats from their gunwales - even with 12 guys sharing the load - was damn tough, dirty and altogether unpleasant work. This was not a friendly crowd. They had been deprived of breakfast and they were now knee deep in mud, miserable, grumpy and overworked. :scowl: :sweat::scowl: :sweat: :scowl:
ME? I was/am the very short guy in the group. Completely useless in the circumstance because I could barely reach the gunwales let alone lift and drag. So you know what I got to do
I got into the boat and watched!! They were all now carrying me too! There was nothing else I could do. :sigh: You CAN IMAGINE the amount of grief that was piled on me that day. I was - to say the least - mortified. OH - the ignominy.
The boats hauling, at last, was successful. Back IN the boats and out in the water, everyone had a chance to swim and rinse off while I, very willingly and with much humility, made up 3 dozen, or more, peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches as breakfast on the go. The day was a perfect summer day. Sailing was invigorating (at least we had wind and did not need to row) and these guys were soon enough laughing and though unforgetting, generally pretty forgiving to this little poop of a mate. How could they stay mad at someone as cute and charming as moi?
Surprising how often I think of that morning. Needless to say - if I'm assigned the dawn watch or any other task on which others depend for me to be vigilant - I don't get distracted ...
3) Would have been a great breakfast :twothumbs
Another #? If so - # 2689
Enjoy, Sam
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luxxlightsaber
Enlightened
#4344 Take care of yourself and then you can take care of your family. In these critical last days its important to draw close to JEHOVAH and he will draw close to you! God and family and neighbor is what life is all about. O yeah and I forgot flashlight lights.
bigburly912
Flashlight Enthusiast
#3000
The first time I ever took my daughter fishing she was almost 3 years old. we went to a little park a few miles from my house with a river running beside it. I had hooked her up a small crick hopper on her Disney Frozen fishing pole. : D she was obviously more concerned about the ducks and the butterflies and throwing rocks/dirt (to feed the fish duh) it was a good time and I hoped she would like enough to go back. I was casting for her and she would reel it in herself. Well, she told me after one cast that she had gotten stuck but it definitely wasn't a snag it was a fish! She was fighting her first fish all by herself and I refused to help her so that she could say she did it on her own. After about a 2 minute fight she reeled in a decently sized smallmouth bass and she was so proud of that fish! We went again a few days later and she caught a very big red horse. Today she still loves to go but every single fish she catches no matter what it is she calls it a "Redhorse Bass" [emoji23] she is 4 now and somehow those two fish got crossed up in her little 4 and a half year old mind.
Bonus #4000
The first time I ever took my daughter fishing she was almost 3 years old. we went to a little park a few miles from my house with a river running beside it. I had hooked her up a small crick hopper on her Disney Frozen fishing pole. : D she was obviously more concerned about the ducks and the butterflies and throwing rocks/dirt (to feed the fish duh) it was a good time and I hoped she would like enough to go back. I was casting for her and she would reel it in herself. Well, she told me after one cast that she had gotten stuck but it definitely wasn't a snag it was a fish! She was fighting her first fish all by herself and I refused to help her so that she could say she did it on her own. After about a 2 minute fight she reeled in a decently sized smallmouth bass and she was so proud of that fish! We went again a few days later and she caught a very big red horse. Today she still loves to go but every single fish she catches no matter what it is she calls it a "Redhorse Bass" [emoji23] she is 4 now and somehow those two fish got crossed up in her little 4 and a half year old mind.
Bonus #4000
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#666
Right gotta be in it to win it.
Retired due to ill health and took up flashlights as a hobby (hey its better than drinking i tell the Mrs).
Had to give away almost all the activities I did before getting crook.
Now get around on my electric bike and Scooter.
Fell off my bike and broke my elbow a few months ago
Pic is of the dash on my Africa Twin with a Mustang on it which replaced my GS1200 that i crashed.
xtra number 4400
Right gotta be in it to win it.
Retired due to ill health and took up flashlights as a hobby (hey its better than drinking i tell the Mrs).
Had to give away almost all the activities I did before getting crook.
Now get around on my electric bike and Scooter.
Fell off my bike and broke my elbow a few months ago
Pic is of the dash on my Africa Twin with a Mustang on it which replaced my GS1200 that i crashed.
xtra number 4400
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noboneshotdog
Flashlight Enthusiast
- Joined
- May 28, 2012
- Messages
- 1,354
Around a year ago a HUGE blessing fell into me and my family's laps. My wife, my self and my four kids had been living in a 1000 sq ft townhouse for almost 15 years praying for an open door for something more accommodating for my growing family.
Four years ago we were given a generous, but moderate sum of money and thought that the time for us to move was then. But, 4 months and 24 showings later we had nothing but closed doors and big discouragements. We took our house off the market as well as our hopes.
Fast forward almost 2 years later. My wife comes up to me and tells me she feels in her heart that a change is going to happen in our family. She guessed what it might be but didn't mention a house. She was still to raw from the past. I mentioned the possibility of a house and she and I both broke down in tears. We saw it as impossible. The housing market had exploded in New England and it seemed more out of reach than ever. But, we decided to hope once more and in that moment prayed.
Within months a series of events started unfolding in front of us. I was called to a customer and friend of ours house for a no heat service call and upon leaving she asked if we were still in the market to buy. I quietly told he no, that we just can't afford to at this time. She said wait, there is a house behind me that hasn't been occupied in years and just suffered a frozen split pipe and has incurred some water damage. The son of the owner had just become power of attorney and finally is ready to sell. He lives out of state and just wants to let it go for really cheap. I told her I was interested and she contacted the owner and got the ball rolling.
We met with the owner about a month later when he was in town to take a look. The basement was a disaster. Water had spilled from the kitchen above from a frozen split pipe and left the basement flooded and full of mold. The place was going to need to be gut from the attic to the basement as it had become a bloom of mold from sitting so long.
We called the mold remediation specialist in and he confirmed the need to be gutted. When he Departed the home owner and I talked money. Initially he wanted a mere $110,000.00 for the house. I asked him if he had a rock bottom number and he said $85,000.00 I almost fainted. Three days later the quote from the mold remediation company came in at $23,600.00 which was covered by the price drop!!!
From there we got the ball rolling with quotes from electricians, insulators, drywallers, flooring, cabinetry and plumber (that's me).
It was by no means an easy process but in the matter of 3 months we were able to sell with much more profit the townhouse that would not sell 2 years earlier and completely rehabilitate the house.
After the house was completed my wife and I were thinking back to the moment when we broke down, cried and prayed. It was that very week that the pipe froze and split and sent a chain reaction of events that will forever have changed our lives.
We currently live in a beautiful 3000 sq ft, 5 bedroom, 3 bathroom house in which we were given the pleasure of choosing every finish, every detail from lighting to flooring to kitchen. We are still overwhelmed by the goodness we have received.
Sometimes prayers are answered quickly. Sometimes they are saved with your tears for a number of years. If you relate with the latter, know that God sees and He sometime is waiting for the perfect time to act. To God be the Glory.
#513 (my house address)
Pics to come.....
Four years ago we were given a generous, but moderate sum of money and thought that the time for us to move was then. But, 4 months and 24 showings later we had nothing but closed doors and big discouragements. We took our house off the market as well as our hopes.
Fast forward almost 2 years later. My wife comes up to me and tells me she feels in her heart that a change is going to happen in our family. She guessed what it might be but didn't mention a house. She was still to raw from the past. I mentioned the possibility of a house and she and I both broke down in tears. We saw it as impossible. The housing market had exploded in New England and it seemed more out of reach than ever. But, we decided to hope once more and in that moment prayed.
Within months a series of events started unfolding in front of us. I was called to a customer and friend of ours house for a no heat service call and upon leaving she asked if we were still in the market to buy. I quietly told he no, that we just can't afford to at this time. She said wait, there is a house behind me that hasn't been occupied in years and just suffered a frozen split pipe and has incurred some water damage. The son of the owner had just become power of attorney and finally is ready to sell. He lives out of state and just wants to let it go for really cheap. I told her I was interested and she contacted the owner and got the ball rolling.
We met with the owner about a month later when he was in town to take a look. The basement was a disaster. Water had spilled from the kitchen above from a frozen split pipe and left the basement flooded and full of mold. The place was going to need to be gut from the attic to the basement as it had become a bloom of mold from sitting so long.
We called the mold remediation specialist in and he confirmed the need to be gutted. When he Departed the home owner and I talked money. Initially he wanted a mere $110,000.00 for the house. I asked him if he had a rock bottom number and he said $85,000.00 I almost fainted. Three days later the quote from the mold remediation company came in at $23,600.00 which was covered by the price drop!!!
From there we got the ball rolling with quotes from electricians, insulators, drywallers, flooring, cabinetry and plumber (that's me).
It was by no means an easy process but in the matter of 3 months we were able to sell with much more profit the townhouse that would not sell 2 years earlier and completely rehabilitate the house.
After the house was completed my wife and I were thinking back to the moment when we broke down, cried and prayed. It was that very week that the pipe froze and split and sent a chain reaction of events that will forever have changed our lives.
We currently live in a beautiful 3000 sq ft, 5 bedroom, 3 bathroom house in which we were given the pleasure of choosing every finish, every detail from lighting to flooring to kitchen. We are still overwhelmed by the goodness we have received.
Sometimes prayers are answered quickly. Sometimes they are saved with your tears for a number of years. If you relate with the latter, know that God sees and He sometime is waiting for the perfect time to act. To God be the Glory.
#513 (my house address)
Pics to come.....
mniezen
Newly Enlightened
Years ago I wanted so badly to be spiritually healthy. I was making a change in my life and no longer wanted to use drugs and alcohol as a way to cope with my personal fears and pain. I believed that a part of this change would be achieved by building a relationship with a Higher Power. I prayed and prayed and read and wrote and worked so hard to attain a healthy relationship with God that I unintentionally blocked Him out of my life. How could I be close to God when I did not even slow down enough to be open to what He wanted for me? I heard from some mentors that I was using that Honesty, Open-mindedness, and Willingness were spiritual principles. I began to strengthen these characteristics in my life. I was already fairly open and willing but saw how much I needed to work on honesty in my own life. It is not that I was a liar, rather I did not know my own heart. I often said things to myself like "That does not bother me", or "I don't care what they think". I began to realize that I had some big lies going on inside that were centered around my lack of self worth. With these recognitions came feelings of shock and I was overwhelmed. I was nowhere near the person I thought I was. I also began to feel some hope because here now was an answer to some of what I was feeling for so many years and a solution to change it. I began to seek out and spend time with people who were more spiritually healthy than I was. I listened to what they told me and did what they suggested. I slowed down and paid attention to what my heart was telling me and honoured it regardless of how weak I worried it made me. I began to change my beliefs so that they were more realistic. I do care what people think of me but it is none of my business unless they choose to share it with me. I am a sensitive man with a big heart and that does not make me weak. My vulnerability is a strength and helps me make stronger connections to others. Years ago I looked back at my initial struggles and realized that somewhere along the way I had let go of how spiritually healthy I needed to be and became more connected to a Higher Power. One of my life lessons...quit trying so hard and enjoy the journey.
Number 1579
bonus number 3727
Number 1579
bonus number 3727
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noboneshotdog
Flashlight Enthusiast
- Joined
- May 28, 2012
- Messages
- 1,354
Here it is!
#222
Edited on 11 24 19 as my original number was 13, which was not a valid number
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#1800
A couple of years ago there was a fire a block away from my house, when I went to see if there was anything I could do to help, I was shocked to see that at least half of the 20 or so firemen did not have flashlights with them. I went home and I brought out a few of the cheaper flashlights that I own and gifted them to the firemen.
A couple of years ago there was a fire a block away from my house, when I went to see if there was anything I could do to help, I was shocked to see that at least half of the 20 or so firemen did not have flashlights with them. I went home and I brought out a few of the cheaper flashlights that I own and gifted them to the firemen.
Reading this thread some salty wetness has appeared on my face ........ 
Must have something in my eyes........
~ Chance
Must have something in my eyes........~ Chance
1. Pick a number from 1-5400: 2244
2. Write a short story for 1 number entry.
Once upon a time, my wife and I were planning our next "Class II" adventure. Our friend Ken had given us his theory of adventure planning, and we adopted it. "Class I" adventures are the stuff where everything goes to plan, and even if Plan A fails, there is never any real risk, no need for critical thinking, no need to make tough decisions, no backup plans or equipment required, and no other unplanned exposure to danger. My bike ride home last night, even though it was good for a quick snapshot of some pretty snow, was a Class I adventure, and I won't remember it a week from now.
Class II adventures are those when a careful plan, contingency plans, gear selection, training, and other preparations are necessary in order to have an ultimately rewarding experience. My best and most durable memories are from those times when weather, luck, and other stuff out of our control forced us to rely on our preparation, critical thinking, and attitude in order to have fun. Class III adventures are the ones that we try to avoid by planning and preparation--where someone is injured or killed, or should have been badly hurt except for a stroke of luck.
Anyway, our Class II adventure of choice was a guided mountain bike trip on the Haute Route, a multi-day bike ride on trails from Chamonix, France to Zermatt, Switzerland. One of the careful preparations we did was to build and ride our mountain bikes here in the US, over a year before traveling with them to Europe. I'm gadget and gear oriented, so I had a lot of fun choosing the components on the bike that would be top of the line, and which ones I could down-grade to save some money. Frame, fork, shock--high end, spare no expense. Drive train, pedals, shoes, clothing, seat post and seat--mid-range stuff, mostly durable but not what a pro cyclist would use. Bottle cages, stem, straight handlebar, handlebar grips--cheap no-name stuff from online sources. For this trip, every item on my bike and in my suitcase had a purpose, and a thought process for choosing it. That's part of the fun of a good Class II undertaking.
Fast forward to day 4 of riding. In the course of riding from the foot of Mont Blanc to the foot of the Matterhorn, we had already worked through several hard core, Class II tribulations. We earned some unforgettable memories through lots of steep trails up and down, mechanical issues, group dynamic challenges, and personal issues. Planning and preparation had ultimately paid off. Near the end of a tough day of riding, we re-grouped in a small Swiss village. I was tired, and got distracted by a different noise coming from the front part of my bike. I purposely dug my front wheels into a couple of landings pretty hard, trying to listen to the noise to diagnose what sounded like a mechanical "wheezing" coming from my fork. My thought was that it was a few drops of oil or water in the air shock mechanism, but I wasn't really sure. As the guide was talking about the next section of trail, I was distracted--I was not looking forward to possibly having to tear down and rebuild my fork after a long hard day of work in the saddle. He said something about "exposure on the left side" in the next section, but I was trying to drink, eat a bite of sugar and caffeine, and wrap my brain around a tricky mechanical repair that evening.
After 4 days in the steep Alps, I was riding pretty strong, and cornering even better. A really solid, high-performance turn on a mountain bike is something that I practice on every ride. On a hard right-hand turn on dirt, I lean my bike over to the right, but bring my center of gravity out to the left in order to keep a balanced, solid connection between my tires and the trail. So, in a right-hander, all of my weight and my cornering g's are split between my left handlebar and left pedal. As I was "in the zone" and cornering hard right through this section with "exposure" to the left, I suddenly found myself somersaulting off the bike, off the trail, and down a steep slope.
I didn't know for a few minutes, but my handlebar broke at the apex of a turn. I made two bad decisions that turned my Class II adventure into Class III. The first decision that would have prevented the fall--I chose a bad handlebar. My thought process was faulty, that a short, simple, straight handlebar would be difficult to mess up, even by a low-end no-name manufacturer. My second bad decision--when I was diagnosing that mechanical "wheezing" sound from what I thought was my front fork, I didn't take the time to really determine the source of the sound. It actually wasn't my fork; instead, it was my handlebar starting to fail. An extra 10 seconds of troubleshooting would have prevented the crash.
As it turned out, luck was on my side, and I somehow wasn't seriously injured. I inexplicably missed a barbed wire fence halfway down the slope, didn't hit any rock walls or big trees, and was able to climb back up the slope to my surprised and worried wife, friends, and guide. Adrenaline and some more luck conspired to mask pain that I should have felt from a broken collarbone. Because of some awesome travel insurance, I was able to get same-day surgery to install a new Ti alloy collarbone with no out-of-pocket cost to me, and I was hiking with my wife in Zermatt the next day. This picture doesn't even come close to capturing how spectacular the hike was, and how lucky I felt to be in this spot at this moment.
I learned a few things. But, the big one for me is this: when planning and executing something in Class II, every single decision counts. That's why I can't wait for my next journey--I am forced to live in the moment when planning and executing every single detail. When I have the chance, I choose to put myself in situations where my actions and decisions are consequential, as an antidote to banal and trivial routines that sometimes dominate my "normal life."
My hope is that everyone has a safe and memorable Thanksgiving, 2019 holiday season, and 2020.
3. Post a picture with your story for a bonus number entry. Bonus number: 4872
2. Write a short story for 1 number entry.
Once upon a time, my wife and I were planning our next "Class II" adventure. Our friend Ken had given us his theory of adventure planning, and we adopted it. "Class I" adventures are the stuff where everything goes to plan, and even if Plan A fails, there is never any real risk, no need for critical thinking, no need to make tough decisions, no backup plans or equipment required, and no other unplanned exposure to danger. My bike ride home last night, even though it was good for a quick snapshot of some pretty snow, was a Class I adventure, and I won't remember it a week from now.
Class II adventures are those when a careful plan, contingency plans, gear selection, training, and other preparations are necessary in order to have an ultimately rewarding experience. My best and most durable memories are from those times when weather, luck, and other stuff out of our control forced us to rely on our preparation, critical thinking, and attitude in order to have fun. Class III adventures are the ones that we try to avoid by planning and preparation--where someone is injured or killed, or should have been badly hurt except for a stroke of luck.
Anyway, our Class II adventure of choice was a guided mountain bike trip on the Haute Route, a multi-day bike ride on trails from Chamonix, France to Zermatt, Switzerland. One of the careful preparations we did was to build and ride our mountain bikes here in the US, over a year before traveling with them to Europe. I'm gadget and gear oriented, so I had a lot of fun choosing the components on the bike that would be top of the line, and which ones I could down-grade to save some money. Frame, fork, shock--high end, spare no expense. Drive train, pedals, shoes, clothing, seat post and seat--mid-range stuff, mostly durable but not what a pro cyclist would use. Bottle cages, stem, straight handlebar, handlebar grips--cheap no-name stuff from online sources. For this trip, every item on my bike and in my suitcase had a purpose, and a thought process for choosing it. That's part of the fun of a good Class II undertaking.
Fast forward to day 4 of riding. In the course of riding from the foot of Mont Blanc to the foot of the Matterhorn, we had already worked through several hard core, Class II tribulations. We earned some unforgettable memories through lots of steep trails up and down, mechanical issues, group dynamic challenges, and personal issues. Planning and preparation had ultimately paid off. Near the end of a tough day of riding, we re-grouped in a small Swiss village. I was tired, and got distracted by a different noise coming from the front part of my bike. I purposely dug my front wheels into a couple of landings pretty hard, trying to listen to the noise to diagnose what sounded like a mechanical "wheezing" coming from my fork. My thought was that it was a few drops of oil or water in the air shock mechanism, but I wasn't really sure. As the guide was talking about the next section of trail, I was distracted--I was not looking forward to possibly having to tear down and rebuild my fork after a long hard day of work in the saddle. He said something about "exposure on the left side" in the next section, but I was trying to drink, eat a bite of sugar and caffeine, and wrap my brain around a tricky mechanical repair that evening.
After 4 days in the steep Alps, I was riding pretty strong, and cornering even better. A really solid, high-performance turn on a mountain bike is something that I practice on every ride. On a hard right-hand turn on dirt, I lean my bike over to the right, but bring my center of gravity out to the left in order to keep a balanced, solid connection between my tires and the trail. So, in a right-hander, all of my weight and my cornering g's are split between my left handlebar and left pedal. As I was "in the zone" and cornering hard right through this section with "exposure" to the left, I suddenly found myself somersaulting off the bike, off the trail, and down a steep slope.
I didn't know for a few minutes, but my handlebar broke at the apex of a turn. I made two bad decisions that turned my Class II adventure into Class III. The first decision that would have prevented the fall--I chose a bad handlebar. My thought process was faulty, that a short, simple, straight handlebar would be difficult to mess up, even by a low-end no-name manufacturer. My second bad decision--when I was diagnosing that mechanical "wheezing" sound from what I thought was my front fork, I didn't take the time to really determine the source of the sound. It actually wasn't my fork; instead, it was my handlebar starting to fail. An extra 10 seconds of troubleshooting would have prevented the crash.
As it turned out, luck was on my side, and I somehow wasn't seriously injured. I inexplicably missed a barbed wire fence halfway down the slope, didn't hit any rock walls or big trees, and was able to climb back up the slope to my surprised and worried wife, friends, and guide. Adrenaline and some more luck conspired to mask pain that I should have felt from a broken collarbone. Because of some awesome travel insurance, I was able to get same-day surgery to install a new Ti alloy collarbone with no out-of-pocket cost to me, and I was hiking with my wife in Zermatt the next day. This picture doesn't even come close to capturing how spectacular the hike was, and how lucky I felt to be in this spot at this moment.
I learned a few things. But, the big one for me is this: when planning and executing something in Class II, every single decision counts. That's why I can't wait for my next journey--I am forced to live in the moment when planning and executing every single detail. When I have the chance, I choose to put myself in situations where my actions and decisions are consequential, as an antidote to banal and trivial routines that sometimes dominate my "normal life."
My hope is that everyone has a safe and memorable Thanksgiving, 2019 holiday season, and 2020.
3. Post a picture with your story for a bonus number entry. Bonus number: 4872
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