Lake Effect: A Primer

Some of you may have heard or read in the news about the snow storm that left dozens of cars stranded over night on a short stretch of highway east of Buffalo this past Wednesday and Thursday.  What you may not know, unless you are familiar with the vagaries of lake effect snow, is just how incredibly isolated the snow fall was during this remarkable event.

Lake effect snow occurs when a cold wind blows across a warm body of water and then continues onto a cold land mass.  Moisture is absorbed from the lake and then condensed by the cold, thereby creating snow.  It's a pretty common occurrence in Buffalo due to the City's position on the eastern tip of Lake Erie.

Its almost as if the lake is aimed at the city, like a gigantic snow cannon.

The lake is 241 mile long and when the wind is blowing from the southwest, it has every one of those miles to gather moisture, or in this case, ammunition.  When the wind is steady, as it was during this most recent event, the area affected by the snow can be amazingly specific.

On Wednesday and Thursday the wind was slightly more out of the west than the southwest which essentially gave the city of Buffalo and the northern suburbs a "get out of jail free" card in terms of  snowfall.  

The eastern suburbs were not so lucky.  In particular the towns of Lackawana and West Seneca, which got 32 and 40 inches respectively in about 24 hours.

The area of route 90 in the circle is the section of the  NYS Thruway that was 
closed formore than 24 hours and where all the cars were stranded.

 I had planned a trip to Buffalo on Thursday but delayed it for a day once I found out that half the area was inaccessible.  I made the drive out on Friday and couldn't resist the chance to photo-document the snowfall.

Here is the snow coverage in downtown Buffalo on Friday afternoon:

Just off Niagara street near Lafayette Square.  Note the evident grass.

Same general area.  You can see the City Hall to the left of the tree.

This section of the city is technically on the Niagara River, just north of where the water from Lake Erie funnels into the river on its' way to Niagara Falls.  It is often spared the worst of the lake effect blasts (but not always).

From here I headed south over the skyway onto route 5.

Okay, I didn't take this on Friday.  But I like it and it helps the story.  So There.

Here's what it looked like less than 2 miles to the south, in the full lee of the lake and the wind:

Look!  Snow!

This really is barely 1 mile south of downtown, where, 
as you will recall, there is basically no snow.

 And another mile south, on the western edge of Lackawana:

That's a lot of snow to plow from a tiny parking lot.

6 foot high plow berm on the side of the road.  Note the giant wind turbines in the background.
They are not a part of the story, but I love them. 

Still clearing and widening route 5 more than 12 hours after the snow stopped. 

For a little bit of overkill, here are some shots from the continuing Thruway cleanup effort on Friday and of the roadside as the highway goes through West Seneca:

And just to emphasize how narrow the band of snow coming off the lake was, here is a picture taken on the Thruway near the town of Hamburg about 10 miles south of Buffalo:

Maybe 3 inches of snow just north of Hamburg.

That's lake effect in a nut shell.  Water, wind and cold land combining to play a practical joke on anyone unlucky enough to be in its' path.

All of which makes Buffalo one of the few places in the world where you can tell your boss "Hey. I'm snowed in and can't come in today" and have them believe you,  replying only, "OK, let me know when you can make it."  Even though there is bright sun and dry roads at work.

Oh, and I did get to drive through a few scattered flurries on the way home Friday night.  Snow looks pretty when you photograph it through the windshield without a flash.

Remember, I take these by just pointing an clicking.  
No aiming or looking through the viewfinder.

Reminds me of the Millennium Falcon making the jump to light speed....

New York City Down and Back. Part II: Two Kinds of Views

The first post in this two-parter was about fighting my way through traffic to get into New York City.  This installment is about the joys and vistas of the journey home.

In addition to the deserted early morning roads and uninterrupted NPR programming, other things I really like about these NYC trips include the great variety of things there are to see across the dashboard and the chance to change up the route and explore on the way home.

You get a little taste of the Manhattan views on the way into the Lincoln Tunnel (see post #4) but there are really spectacular city vistas (one kind of view) can be had on the way home too.

The celebrated New York Times building.

The iconic Empire State Building.  It looks better with a big monkey on it.

As part of that "take a different route home" thing, instead of going back through the Lincoln Tunnel, I sometimes head over to the West Side Highway.  One of the first things you see once you are driving north from mid-town is the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum, which is housed on the retired WWII aircraft carrier USS Intrepid.

It's pretty eye catching; not the kind of thing you expect to see as you drive along most roads.  It is a gigantic ship, but it is actually amazing how small it looks, given what it was used for.  They landed airplanes on this thing!

USS Intrepid, obviously.

But if you grew up like me, obsessed with airplanes, reading books like Jane's Book Of Aircraft and Air War Against Hitler's Germany (The American Heritage Junior Library Edition.  Just re-read it a last year...) the thing that puts your head on a swivel and really grabs your attention are those angled-in tail fins of the plane to the right.

It's a Lochheed SR-71 Blackbird reconnaissance (spy) plane and arguably the coolest aircraft ever built.  

Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird in profile.  I actually turned around and headed back
down the West Side Highway to take this.  Conveniently, there is a legal u-turn just north of the ship 
and a stop light at the Museum entrance.  I got lucky and caught a red light in the perfect spot.

The SR-71 has held or holds virtually every record for manned non-space flight including altitude (85,069 feet) and speed (Mach 3.32, 2193mph).  Only 32 Blackbirds were ever built.  With the coming of the satellite era, the need for a spy plane that can fly over any spot in the world to take pictures of it in just a few hours has disappeared. The Blackbird was retired in 1998.

It still looks (more pictures) like something out of the future, which I find very encouraging as the SR-71 and I were introduced to the world in the same year (1964).

The West Side Highway also has great views of the Hudson River and one of New York's other great iconic structures, The George Washington Bridge.

The Hudson River with the GWB in the background.  
Aesthetically, both would benefit greatly from the addition of a big monkey.

Just about to head under the first tower of the GWB.
This would be an excellent place to put the monkey.

Sometimes when leaving the city via the GWB, I'll take the first right and head up the Palisades Parkway.  If I had done that on this trip, I'd have some (hopefully) great pictures of upper Manhattan, Bear Mountain and the Hudson River.  Another trip perhaps.

This time I continued west through New Jersey on Route 80.  So, with apologies to New Jersey, it was a while before I felt compelled to pull out the camera to document the other kinds of vistas on offer during the trip home.

The drive west on route 80 offers some fantastic views of rural New Jersey, especially as you approach the Delaware Water Gap.  The Delaware River is the longest un-dammed river east of the Mississippi and provides drainage for nearly 14,000 square mile of New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.  All of the water from New York and western/northern Pennsylvania that drains into the Delaware flows through the gap.

The Delaware water gap is a break in what is the first (or last, depending 
on your point of view) major ridge of the Appalachian Mountains. 

The break in the ridge can be seen for miles from both the eastern and western approach.  The landscape is pretty dramatic as you enter the gap.

Exposed rock ridge line of Mt. Tammany on the northern side of the gap.

Exposed rock ridge line of Mt. Minsi on the southern side of the gap.

Boulder field just below the upper ridge.  It comes right up to the roadway.

The gap also marks the southern entrance to the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area, which is an area I highly recommend you take some time to explore, if you are ever in the area.  It's even worth a trip of its own with both great river access for boating or swimming and hiking at a variety of levels.

It also a great jumping-off-point for that other thing I like about theses drives; a little exploring!  If you get off route 80 at the park entrance (there is no fee), you can not only stop in at the visitors center or one of the other buildings that cater to, uhm, visitor needs, but also get on the first of a series of small 2 lane roads that take you north along the river.

Leaving the visitor's center headed north on Old Mine Road (closed in winter).
That's route 80 on the Bridge above, just before the toll booths that are on the Pennsylvania side.

National Park Service road 615 (Walpack-Flatbrook Road), just south of Walpack Center.

The views and vistas of these isolated roads are fantastic as they work their way north through the park on alternating sides of the stream valley.  It takes you past some great park facilities (hiking, swimming, education centers) and through little hamlets of buildings, some run as historic sites by the park service, and other like the Peters Valley Craft Center that just seem to pop up out of nowhere.

But the real highlight of this route comes when you finally have a chance to cross the Delaware River into Pennsylvania.  Dingmans Ferry is the spot.  It has been a crossing point on the Delaware since at least 1735 when Andrew Dingman began running a flat boat ferry across this narrow, calm portion of the river. It is the only access to or from New Jersey for 30 miles to the south and at least 15 miles to the north.

Of course, there is no ferry at Dingmans Ferry anymore.  The location has been the home to a series of bridges beginning in 1836 (although Andrew Dingman III, after a series of bridge failures, ran a ferry here for about 40 years until the turn of the 20th century).  The current bridge was built in 1900 and has been in constant use since November of that year.

Dingmans Ferry Bridge, very full of traffic!  
I don't think I'd put a big monkey on it, despite the 4 ton sign.

There are 3 very cool things about the bridge.

First, it has a wooden deck.  Actually, that alone would be enough to make it cool!  When was the last time you drove on a wooden deck bridge, especially one this long that actually sees significant traffic?

Yep!  Those are wooden planks!

Second, it is one of the last privately owned (don't worry, they are subject to all the safety regs) bridges in the US.  Take a minute to think about that.  A bridge, connecting two states and two public roads, owned by a family run private firm.  Imagine this conversation at elementary school career exploration day.

"So Jenny, what are you going to be when you grow up?"

"When I'm a grown up, I'm going to run my family's bridge!"

"What?"

"Our Bridge.  The one over the river with all the cars and stuff.  I'm going to run it and take the money and fix the planks and paint the cables and make sure no trucks that are too big ever get on it!  And I'll let bikes  and school buses and ambulances and all my bestest friends go over for free!"

"That's nice dear"

Later in the staff room:

"Poor Jenny, she thinks her Mom & Dad who work in the toll booth actually OWN the bridge.  So Sad..."

Last Laugh to Jenny!

The third super cool thing about the bridge is the toll taker.

Toll taker, on the Pennsylvania side, Dingmans Ferry Bridge.

That's right.  My man is STANDING. In the middle of the road.  He is standing ALL day and night.  He is standing all day and night taking $1.00 from everyone coming or going over the bridge and putting it in a bucket.  He is not in a booth; doesn't WANT a booth; doesn't even KNOW what a booth is.  He is resolute and immovable; respecting, directing, protecting and collecting from all those who want to abandon or gain the Pennsylvania shore.

OK, so maybe I'm being a little overly dramatic but damn, can we get my man a chair?  I mean the bridge is open 24/7/365.  

He does get one day a year off.   The bridge is free on Christmas (and always for bikes, ambulances and school buses, just like little Jenny said).  I may drive down on December 25th just to take advantage of that, as a little gift to myself.

(And yes, I realize there must be more than one toll taker......better story my way)

From this fabulous bridge, the drive takes you up Route 739, also known as Dingmans Turnpike, through the town of Dingmans Ferry and more beautiful scenery, finally leading back to the big highway Route 84. Which I reluctantly get on.   Because, after all, I really do need to get home.
     

New York City Down and Back. Part I: Two Kinds of Traffic

Some days start earlier than others.

That's 4:58 AM.  It should read 4:45 as I had planned to take the  picture  in the driveway before I started the drive. But I forgot.   Hey, it was early.  I took this waiting at a stop sign.

Every month or so, I drive from Ithaca to New York City for a meeting.  It is 223 miles from my house to the parking garage I normally use in Manhattan. Meetings always start at 10:00am.

So the alarm went off very early, as it always does on these days, this past Friday.  It sounds awful to have to drive to and from New York all in one day, but it only happens once a month and there are some things about the trip that I look forward to.  

For one thing, it's always a day when I can be sure to hear Morning Edition on NPR from start to finish.  And for the first few hours anyway, the roads are mostly deserted. That's one kind of traffic.

The world is also quite a bit "darker" in the early morning than it is late at night.  I'm not talking about "darkest before the dawn" kind of stuff; the landscape is just darker at 5am than it is even late at night. There are fewer lights on in buildings and houses in the early morning, making the ones that are on stand out that much more.  I often have that moment of thinking "what are they doing up?" as I zip past.  Is someone sick?  Or can't sleep?  Or going on a trip?  Or rifling through papers they just found in the back of an old chest of draws?  Or playing cards? Or burying a body? Or...

Of course, they are probably just doing what I'm doing.  Going to work.  If I drove this route every morning at 5 I'm sure I'd see most of the same lights on.  But I'm the one out of my routine in this case and so the imagination wanders, just a little bit.

The lights that are on, apart from appealing to the more fanciful part of my brain, can be quite beautiful too as they blaze away in the blackness.  Which can make for some interesting photo ops as well.

The runway lights at the Ithaca Airport at 5ish in the morning.

I especially like being able to look into the dairy barns and see the cows chewing and waiting (I tried to get some pictures of that. They all sucked).

Because there is a specific time by which I have to arrive in New York, the route for the trip down is dictated by the need for speed. With virtually all of the roads (81 to 380 to 80) having posted speed limits of 65mph the trip ought to take about 3 and a half hours.

I should be able to leave my house at 6:00am and make it with time to spare.  Instead I need to leave by 4:45 to be sure to be on time.  While I have made the drive down in 3 and a half hours (Once.  In nearly 4 years), the trip has also taken 6 hours and on average takes about 4 and a half.

The reason for that is simple.  Traffic.  The other kind.  The crowded, maddening, soul destroying, am I EVER going to make it through this and boy do I really need to pee kind of traffic. 

You never know what the last few miles of the trip are going to look like.  Mostly they look like this:

The beginning of the slow down on the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel

The first 219 miles of the drive Friday took 3:20.  The Final 4 took 45 minutes. I usually have the radio on as I head towards the City with an ear open for traffic reports about the Hudson river crossings.  It doesn't really affect my route because our office is only a few blocks from the Lincoln Tunnel.  That is where I am generally headed.  For it to make sense for me to switch to either the Holland Tunnel or the George Washington Bridge, the wait at the Lincoln would have to be 2 hours or more.  Which certainly happens, but I've been lucky so far.

Everyday type Lincoln tunnel traffic.   How many thousands of cars are ahead of me?

I listen anyway and have often wondered how they gauge the waiting time.  It has always seemed to take less time than the reports were predicting.  But on this trip I was paying careful attention (The Heisenblog Principle in actions? See post #2) and I have to say that the time from when the traffic really slowed to a crawl to when I drove into the tunnel was pretty much exactly the 45 minutes that was predicted.

Reaching speeds of 15mph is both a rarity and a luxury this close to the tunnel.  The car rarely gets past 2nd gear and spends much of the final stretch in 1st.  Driving in traffic like this is the only time I would prefer to be driving a car with an automatic transmission.  The sturdy little Scion has a stick shift, which makes it fun to drive, but if I had to do this constant stopping  and starting  everyday, I'd switch.

Which would be a tragedy, because manual transmissions are just better.  That's right, I said it!  Plus knowing how to drive a manual transmission is a valuable if increasingly rare skill.  It means you can drive a rental car in Europe for starters.  And it's cooler.  I'm glad both my daughters have or are learning how to drive a manual.  

In fact, my older daughter has even gotten to talk a little trash about having that particular skill.  Back in High School, some dopey boys were teasing her with that old stereotype about girls being bad drivers.  She just looked at them and said "Can you drive a stick?"  They looked sheepish, said "No" and slunk away.  Talk about delivering in the "clutch"!

The final approach to the tunnel has a great view of the Manhattan skyline just before the road makes the big sweeping turn into the toll booths.  I managed to get a few shots when we were once again at a standstill.

NYC Skyline from the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel.   It actually looks a lot better than this

As I neared the toll booth before the tunnel, I started to have another concern.  Ever since 9/11,  there has been a security presence at all the Hudson River crossings.  I'm not sure if they are TSA or NY/NJ Transit Authority police, but there are always cops standing in the roadway once you get past the toll barriers.  Last winter, I saw them stop a guy in a big SUV just before he entered the tunnel.  There had been a big snow storm overnight and the car had about a foot of snow on the roof.  They made him get out and clean it off (the fear I assume being that a big chunk of it would come off in the tunnel and whack following cars in the windshield) before letting him go on.  He was wearing a suit and as far as I could see didn't have a snow brush.  And it was about 20 degrees.  Although I should have, I did not feel sorry for him.

But I was not worrying about snow or the weather as I got close to the tunnel.  I was concerned that the cops might be a little suspicious of someone taking pictures of what has been identified as a potential target for a terrorist attack.  How could I end a story about traffic without pictures of the cars merging into the tunnel?

I made sure to take my pictures quickly and nowhere near where the cops stand.

Just before the toll barrier.  There are 14 booths. 

The left and center tubes.

The right tube, where I always head, is the best way to go if you need to
make a right onto 40th street once you are in Manhattan .

It is amazing how the traffic funnels from 14 toll booth lanes down into 3 tubes with 2 lanes each.  There is lots of honking and jockeying for position but I've never actually seen any collisions, although I'm sure they must happen all the time.  Once you are in the tube, it's pretty much smooth sailing.


Total time from walking out my door at home to walking into the office: 4 hours 25 minutes.  Pretty good, actually.


Of course, that's only the first half of the day.  Stay tuned for the exciting return trip!!!

Really, I prefer 2 wheels. And tail winds

All things being equal, if I could ride to work (better yet ride AS work) everyday, I would.  Of course that would make lugging sample bottles of wine a little difficult and it would take me 2 days just to get to Buffalo.

Which would be a little impractical...

So I have to content myself with getting the bike out on the road or trails when I can.  I should qualify that a little bit.  Don't think I jump on the bike anytime there's a half an hour window in the day (although I should).  Ironically, the older I get, the more of a baby I become.  I don't go out in the cold, wind and rain like I used to.

Which is why I have been enjoying the warm, dry and often still weather we have been having in upstate NY this fall!  Especially since I want this blog to be about what you see from a bike as well as from a car.

This is the bike I have been riding for a while now.  It actually belongs to my neighbor
Eric, who has been kind and incredibly generous in lending it to me.  
Eric raced on a high level amateur team in Britain back in the 80's and 
this TI Raleigh Team was his racing bike.  Back in the day, it was the baddest thing 
on the road, and it's still better than most bikes out there today! 
 I'm lucky to have the chance to ride it!  
Thanks Eric!!!! 

I headed out on a short ride the other day, even though there was a good wind blowing (so brave!) with my camera phone in my jersey pocket and immediately discovered several things:

      1. It's much harder to take a picture from a moving bike than from a moving car.

This picture may be pretty, but it is supposed to be of the 2 tiny lambs in the middle of
frame.  They are both wearing what look like little red sweaters, which is funny if
you think about it.  You know, sheep in sweaters?  I didn't realize until I got home
just how small they appeared in the frame.  Maybe they'll be there next time I go out. 

     2. It's a lot easier to slow down or circle back to take a photo on a bike than in a car.  

     3. I really hate headwinds.  Okay, I knew that already, but I'm making a list here.

     4. When you are riding "out and back", headwinds turn into tailwinds.

WHEEEEEEE!!! 
Yes, that is mph and this was actually taken on a slight up hill, so well done wind!
And yes, I know that "WHEEEE" is not dignified. 

     Yeah, I knew that too.  But I needed an excuse to use this picture.


     5. My average speed on a ride is a lot lower if I'm looking for pictures to take.

That last one is a good thing in a lot of ways.  I used to race (very slowly, actually) in triathlons and when I went out for a ride, the goal was always to go faster than before, which meant keeping your head down and you mind focused.  Not a lot of sightseeing.

It's still hard not to focus on average speed; I actually make rules for myself on how often I can check it.  But I have been enjoying riding just for regular exercise and the different views the bike affords.  Thinking about photo ops makes that even better and easier.

In the wine business, we talk about micro-climates all the time; riding a bike out in the country is a great way to experience them as the temperature, smells, wind and even the humidity change as you ride along the road.  I'm finding that the less attention I pay to the speedometer, the more I notice the road and what's around it, and that's a good (if obvious) thing.

Speaking of the road, one of the nice things about riding around the Ithaca area is the roads themselves.  Sure, there are plenty of rim destroying pot holes but one thing we have more of than many places is good wide shoulders, especially on some of the busier roads that head out into the country.

Nice wide, shoulder.  It even makes riding on Rt 13 (near the airport) feel safe
with lots of room to maneuver when needed. 

Of course we have our share of poor roadways too.

Bad, narrow shoulder (Hanshaw road, near Sapsucker Woods Road).  Makes riding a little nerve
racking.  Going off the road here to avoid a car can easily lead to a wipe out!

But overall the shoulders and the sheer number of cyclist you see on the roads here abouts helps to make this a very bike friendly area.  Most major road resurfacing or repaving projects lately have included new and wider shoulders, with more on the way.  Plus we have lots of great hills to climb.

And plenty of beautiful views...

I know what you're thinking, why not lose the speedometer altogether, really focus on the world around.

Let's not get Crazy!

File Under: The Heisenberg Principle in Everyday Life

Put way too simply (and probably inaccurately), the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that the act of observing an event affects the outcome of that event.  In the context of the blogosphere, we can restate it as "Knowing that you may write about something totally affects.....Everything!"

That realization hit me soon after leaving Ithaca for Rochester on Thursday morning.  Call it the "Blogenberg Attention Re-direction Principle" or maybe the "Heisenblog Self Absorption Principle".  As long as it doesn't require me to account for the velocity of a photon in a vacuum, any title will do.

Whatever name you give it, the blog factor did affect my thinking.  Like any normal day, I headed out on roads I've driven hundreds of times before.  But this time I had a camera on the seat next to me and thoughts like "what can I take pictures of today" or "which side of the lake has the best light" and "is there anything interesting I might be able to say about that" whirring around in my head.  I found myself thinking about the drive in ways I never had before and visualizing 5 minutes down the road for spots that might be good photo or comment opportunities.

Which in hindsight sounds contrived and self indulgent....but this is a blog after all.  As a reader, you take your chances anytime you load a page.

I needn't have worried.  Pictures present themselves and something to say flows naturally from there.  Plus it was a classic upstate New York fall day with the sky changing from threatening steely grey to brilliant blue every few minutes and filled with fantastically dramatic cloud formations.  I'm not talking about the fluffy balloon animal clouds of summer that remind you of dragons and poodles, but the gathering storm type that makes you look over your shoulder, just to make sure nothing is descending from them.

Classic Upstate NY fall sky over Cayuga Lake

And again, just south of Aurora

Once more, with feeling

We have clouds year round of course but there is something about the fall variety that is special.  The weather in fall tends to be windier, wetter and colder.  Maybe that combines somehow to make clouds that just seem bigger, darker and somehow more theatrical.

From when I was small, I can remember my parents (both American historians) talking about the dramatic nature of the upstate sky and whether or not it had played a role in the religious fervor of the 19th century known as the "Second Great Awakening".  Activity in the communities of Western and Central NY was especially vigorous in terms of revivals and the founding of new religious movements, most notably Mormonism in Palmyra, NY.  In fact, our little part of the world was referred to as  "The Burned Over District" because of the extreme zeal and number of new movements started here about.

I don't know what role the clouds had in all of that.  They certainly have never made me speak in tongues or want to found a religious movement (although I have been thinking about starting the Church Of The Flying Stuffed Monkey, but that is not cloud related).  They do make me stop and look at the sky every now and then.  I think I may even have seen Zeus peeking out from behind the most dramatic cloud banks every now and then so maybe...

But back to what was to be seen last Thursday.  In my last post, I had the advantage of Lake Champlain or the Green and Adirondack Mountains as the background for most of the pictures.  Thursday's trip was more about what an ordinary day looks like.  And most days it looks like the New York State Thruway.

New York Thruway toll booth...gotta love E-ZPass

NY State Thruway seen over the dashboard

Probably 250,000 of those million miles I've driven have been on the Thruway.  The monotony and regularity of the road is a big part of why I try to seek out new routes whenever possible.  Still, the Thruway goes through beautiful country and the camera has shown me that you can get a new take of a familiar view, just by freezing what is normally seen at high speed.

Corn field on Rt 318 at 50mph.  Okay, I admit it, this isn't from the Thruway.  Sue me.
Rt 318 is how to get from Rt 20 to Rt 414 and then to the Thruway.  This field is less than 2 miles from the toll booth, so I feel justified in using it.

Getting passed by an 18 wheeler in the rain on the way home

Hopefully, creating a static moment from a panorama of motion can give a different perspective.  Or at least capture something that is cool looking.

Note on safety.  The pictures taken when the car is moving are not actually aimed.  I never look through the view finder but just point the camera in the general direction of what I want to capture and press the button, taking a lot of shots very quickly and hoping to get lucky.  I go back and pick out the good ones later, once I've stopped.  If I miss something, no big deal, I'll be back on most of these roads soon enough.

So how will I account for and combat the "Blogenberg Principle"?  I guess I won't.  Except I will remember  to put the camera in the car and to just wait for the pictures to suggest themselves.  I only have to push the button.

On a side note for those who read the last post, the last time I filled my tank the auto-shutoff clicked at 9.2 gallons (11.2g tank).   It was a bittersweet moment....