Here we come, on the run, with a burger and a bun, and a dab of cole slaw on the side! Oh your taste we will tickle with a cold dill pickle, and all of our potatoes are french fried, fried, fried. Our burgers can’t be beat ’cause we fry our own meat – Fry! Fry! Fry! Fry! Fry! When you drive away, a tip upon our tray, we hope to find, find, find, find, find!
Last Call indicates the end of Hooniverse’s broadcast day. It’s meant to be an open forum for anyone and anything. Thread jacking is not only accepted, it’s encouraged.
Image: Bizarbin
Last Call: Dino Burger To Go Edition
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Enough of this self-driving car shit already…
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Same question I had when I was four. How does it steer?
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Everyone leans into the turn so the reduced diameter pulls it around like a motorcycle?
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Add some spare ribs! https://quarrylanefarms.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/flintstones_ribs2.jpeg
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So, I was reading a retrospective report on the ’76 Montreal Olympics last night (because reasons?), and the transportation section mentioned they had a fleet of over 1100 vehicles, but felt they ultimately needed closer to 1500 because at any one time, roughly 10% were out of commission for service and repairs. 10%! I’m working a similar sized event this summer (we have about 1200 cars), and admittedly we don’t have them all in use yet, but there’s no way we’re anywhere near that percentage consistently grounded. Thankfully, they don’t make ’em like they used to.
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That’s a ridiculous fault rate. Will you have data on that when you’re finished with your event? I fiigure the Lillehammer olympics in ’94 were a pretty sturdy arrangement, ha!
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I’m sure I could find it. I work closely enough with the woman who handes insurance claims and repair coordinating. So far, our biggest repairs have mostly been tire-related (that and the odd oil change), which is hardly the manufacturer’s fault. If I had to guess, I’d think we have about 300 cars in consistent use at this point, and it probably averages to about one car in service at any point.
That said, other departments might be responsible for looking after their own vehicles, so I might be missing out on data.
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I had a Fortune 100 company as a client for fleet sales a little over a decade ago. The fresh-faced sales people got Corollas for they’re job. (CE with the power equipment package) They used to joke that with automated service reminders based on mileage inputs, the fleet manager’s job was done for him. This was good because the bosses of the fresh-faced sales people eschewed the Avalons, that I pushed heavily, for Saab 9-5s, he was kept busy with them.
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Let’s see who has the last laugh after the car flips over when they receive their food.
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Lots of traffic on the way home from work today. This has become the typical Norwegian traffic: A Tesla, two Volvos. Could be more Swedish cars, if you ask me…
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Guess what’s worse than spending five miles stuck behind a semi truck full of chickens in open cages.
Lots of things! Ebola’s worse. Hell, pneumonia’s worse. Honestly I think I’d rather spend five miles contemplating those doomed chickens than spend three days with the common cold.
Death. Way worse than following a chicken truck.
Got to a stop sign this morning, saw the chicken truck coming down the road, rolled the stop sign to get in front of it and slammed the Geo into 4th gear instead of 2nd. GAAA! STUPID JUNKYARD TRANSMISSION!
Forty tons of iron and poultry did a weird little jiggle as they tried to slow down fast. It looked sort of balletic there in the rearview mirror, all smooth and slow like you see in movies when the really tense moments streeeeeetch. The front of the rear trailer pushed the rear of the front trailer into the other lane, while the semi sort of bobbed left and right as it ate up a growing percentage of the mirror’s conic view.
The lizard part of my brain had turned the steering wheel right without me telling it to (definitely a flight-not-fight moment if there ever was one), a bunch of oncoming cars (didn’t catch the models of a single one of them but several were blue) did the same and went onto the opposite shoulder, Chicken Truck Driver sees daylight and passes, the whole length of the truck less than an inch away from my driver’s side mirror.
I stopped screaming a minute or two later.
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