Sunday, November 24, 2019

Two antennas were married. The wedding was terrible but, the reception was great.

At home I have a ludicrous amount of projects.  One of those is "cord cutting" - I'm planning on stopping cable soon, so that Antenna in the topic is screwed into a 2x4 up in my attic. 

Yes, folding someone who is arguably the tallest person on the block into an "entry hatch" was comical.

Up there in that small space, I especially enjoyed having some electrical conduit less than a finger length from my own fat head.  But I can watch TV out of West Palm Beach and Miami so it's all worth all that engineering.

Which brings me to this story...

An engineer who having worked for several years, decided that he and his family should have a weekend getaway place.

He searched the surrounding country, and found a lovely spot with frontage on a small river. They built a cabin, and began spending time there every chance they got. The kids loved it, and friends came for the quiet and fishing.

The engineer, however, wanted something unique for his cabin. He had been an award-winning pole vaulter in college. He therefore built a set of poles with a crosspiece, and a mulched run. He bought a new carbon fiber vaulting pole, new shoes, and was set.

He would set off down the run, plant his pole, soar over the crosspiece, and land in the river with a satisfying splash. What a great way to spend a hot afternoon. He tried to teach a few friends to vault, with no success.

He enjoyed his cabin for years, and went out early in the spring one year. It had been a very wet winter, lots of rain afterward. When the family arrived, the river was up and flowing at a good clip, with twice the usual current flowing.

The engineer was determined to enjoy a few vaults into the water, although his wife didn't think it was safe. But he was a good swimmer and proceeded to have a go at it.

His run and jump were flawless, he hit the water in good form, but upon surfacing, he was swept downstream and disappeared. His body was found later that day, tangled in streamside debris.

It was a sad end for the engineer and the family sold the cabin, with no desire to return to the scene of such tragedy.

Our lamented engineer was a civil engineer. Had he consulted one of his electrical engineer brethren, he would have been warned that "It's not vaultage that kills you, it's the current!"

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