Germany has run into trouble with the implementation of their satellite-based toll-collection system.
Poor Winnie. While parked on Scott St., someone smashed the small side window in order to steal my two-vials-of-crack cheap car stereo.
After phoning around for replacement glass, the twist is that the car (from 1984) is considered "20 years old" and thus the glass is no longer made. Toyota can fabricate it and install it on Monday.
While Mayor-For-A-Day Chris Daly sneakily appointed two commissioners to the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission, Mayor Lame Duck Willie Brown was gallivanting in Tibet.
One of the appointments (which legal sources think will stick) is Robin Chiang, the San Francisco-based architect who designed the Islais Creek MUNI depot, and who consults for the SF Airport.
In other utility and regulatory news, I'm really excited for Nov. 24: Number Portability! After years of paying monthly fees (on both mobile and land lines!), ye American conusmer finally has the option of switching land-line numbers to mobile carriers, and of moving from carrier to carrier while retaining a telephone number. It's been a long time coming.
And next week my neighbourhood is finally getting composting bins! After a two-year wait, the Lower Haight is becoming part of the federally-mandated recycling program. Alleluia.
According to San Francisco busybodies Matier & Ross, construction on the beautiful new Carquinez "Al Zampa" Bridge is heading into overtime in order to open before Gray Davis leaves the office of Governor.
In other Caltrans news, the new eastern span of the Bay Bridge may not be complete until 2009:
American steel companies accuse Caltrans of delaying the project and changing the bidding process to give foreign steel companies an edge. Construction costs have tripled to an estimated $3 billion.
"We've been listening to the contractors -- listening to what they can and cannot do," said Bijan Sartipi, Caltrans District Director. "They've come up with some innovative ways, and in turn, we've changed some of our practices."
American companies say U.S. steel should be used for the Bay Bridge construction, instead of cheaper foreign steel.
Two-thirds of the planned work remains unfinished.
Rob Rogers' amusing take on Pittsburgh is Da Burgh to the core. I'm glad that he found better things to do than stick Cheerios up his nose.
UPDATE: Other cartoonists are getting into trouble in their treatment of Da Burgh. Me, I've long found "Get Fuzzy" to be teetering on the edge of funny. I want to laugh, but then I realise, "Oh, this isn't actually comical." Worse now that the Chronicle is now fiddycent, right where we were three years ago.
Seattle has ordered more than 200 hybrid diesel buses to replace their "aging" Breda buses.
Although the press release glowingly reports on the increased fuel efficiency, decreased odor, and on-road performance, it doesn't mention the engine noise. And engine noise is what caused the San Francisco MUNI's latest buses to earn the nickname "Screaming Banshee". Although we now ruefully bear the 90 dB whine of the Haight St. buses, it was a rude awakening two years ago when the new fleet went into service. Complaints to MUNI, who weakly pushed back at their contractor, Neoplan, to meet the specified 83 dB engine noise level. No palpable reduction took place, and the whiny roar of the buses has joined the squeak grinding of the N-Judah in the MUNI audio bestiary.
An older MUNI diesel has stalled at the intersection of Haight and Scott: number 8828, on the 6 Parnassus. All of the other buses running on Haight St. routes today are either electric with their antennae down, or diesel; I wonder if there's something amiss with the overhead lines?
UPDATE:
Turns out that poor little bus 8828 ran out of diesel. The chagrined driver didn't want to talk about it.
Arshad drew my attention to an informal and ongoing doughnut-eating contest at our old haunt, Voodoo Doughnuts.
If not an art form, Voodoo Doughnut has at least turned doughnut eating into a sport.
I never realised that doughnut eating had entered the competitive arena of, say, oyster eating. People really take pride in putting back ridiculous quantities of often-terrible food; I recall the time I was cycling through Wisconsin and one of the friendly hammerheads I was riding with suggested we stop at a pub for lunch. I ended up taking a tshirt away with me from State St. Brats in Madison for having consumed the "Big-Ass Burger" in under 30 minutes (they sat me at the bar with a huge photo timer and a bunch of people watched. In admiration? In disgust?) I have since learned never to eat food requiring me to sign a disclaimer.
