Speedo Correction For Different-Sized Tires?

wrote in message . ..
On Wed, 13 Oct 2004 21:20:37 GMT, "Phil, Squid-in-Training"
wrote:

Even more intriguing was a handwritten table of corrections
from some garage that had been paid to calibrate the Aston
Martin's speedometer. I felt much better knowing that
although the doctor kept the needle right on 100 mph, we
were doing only 94 mph.

Might've been cheaper, too, had he gotten a ticket, so it's a double-whammy.

Dear Phil,

In 1968, the likelihood of being stopped for speeding on US
50 heading east on the Great Plains toward Kansas along the
Arkansas River was about the same as being attacked by
Comanches.

At a rough guess, there might have been a population of
three thousand people in a hundred and twenty miles, many of
whom did not yet have party lines or indoor plumbing.

To give you some idea of how flat and empty the area is, my
father later shot by sheer luck what everyone agreed was an
antelope whose horns would have been a Colorado record.
Unfortunately for the glory of the Fogel clan, it was
eventually determined that the beast had probably met its
fate about a mile into Kansas.

Even today, there isn't much out there, and even less when
you get away from the highway and the river--dryland farming
doesn't pay out there. Nor do speed traps.

The U.S. Department of Transportation High-Speed Test track
is out there, a hundred-mile train-loop where the crews go
in circles for a thousand miles a night, squashing
rattlesnakes on the tracks in the summer.

Carl Fogel

For unrelated reasons, I was just ogling a local map
and saw to my shame that the DOT railroad test track
is not the hundred-mile loop of which I boasted--it's
only a dinky little ten-mile oval, even though there's
plenty of room for a hundred-mile oval in the empty
quarter between Ordway and Punkin Center.

I'd like to think that I was misled by long-ago
conversations with railroad employees, but the most
likely culprit is my fevered imagination.

Carl Fogel

"Carl Fogel" wrote in message
om...
wrote in message
. ..
On Wed, 13 Oct 2004 21:20:37 GMT, "Phil, Squid-in-Training"
wrote:

Even more intriguing was a handwritten table of corrections
from some garage that had been paid to calibrate the Aston
Martin's speedometer. I felt much better knowing that
although the doctor kept the needle right on 100 mph, we
were doing only 94 mph.

Might've been cheaper, too, had he gotten a ticket, so it's a
double-whammy.

Dear Phil,

In 1968, the likelihood of being stopped for speeding on US
50 heading east on the Great Plains toward Kansas along the
Arkansas River was about the same as being attacked by
Comanches.

At a rough guess, there might have been a population of
three thousand people in a hundred and twenty miles, many of
whom did not yet have party lines or indoor plumbing.

To give you some idea of how flat and empty the area is, my
father later shot by sheer luck what everyone agreed was an
antelope whose horns would have been a Colorado record.
Unfortunately for the glory of the Fogel clan, it was
eventually determined that the beast had probably met its
fate about a mile into Kansas.

Even today, there isn't much out there, and even less when
you get away from the highway and the river--dryland farming
doesn't pay out there. Nor do speed traps.

The U.S. Department of Transportation High-Speed Test track
is out there, a hundred-mile train-loop where the crews go
in circles for a thousand miles a night, squashing
rattlesnakes on the tracks in the summer.

Carl Fogel

For unrelated reasons, I was just ogling a local map
and saw to my shame that the DOT railroad test track
is not the hundred-mile loop of which I boasted--it's
only a dinky little ten-mile oval, even though there's
plenty of room for a hundred-mile oval in the empty
quarter between Ordway and Punkin Center.

I'd like to think that I was misled by long-ago
conversations with railroad employees, but the most
likely culprit is my fevered imagination.

Carl Fogel

Ahhh...what's an order of magnitude among friends?...you probably would
wonder why you weren't tired after riding that "century" in about 40
minutes...

"Carl Fogel" wrote in message
om...
wrote in message
. ..
On Wed, 13 Oct 2004 21:20:37 GMT, "Phil, Squid-in-Training"
wrote:

Even more intriguing was a handwritten table of corrections
from some garage that had been paid to calibrate the Aston
Martin's speedometer. I felt much better knowing that
although the doctor kept the needle right on 100 mph, we
were doing only 94 mph.

Might've been cheaper, too, had he gotten a ticket, so it's a
double-whammy.

Dear Phil,

In 1968, the likelihood of being stopped for speeding on US
50 heading east on the Great Plains toward Kansas along the
Arkansas River was about the same as being attacked by
Comanches.

At a rough guess, there might have been a population of
three thousand people in a hundred and twenty miles, many of
whom did not yet have party lines or indoor plumbing.

To give you some idea of how flat and empty the area is, my
father later shot by sheer luck what everyone agreed was an
antelope whose horns would have been a Colorado record.
Unfortunately for the glory of the Fogel clan, it was
eventually determined that the beast had probably met its
fate about a mile into Kansas.

Even today, there isn't much out there, and even less when
you get away from the highway and the river--dryland farming
doesn't pay out there. Nor do speed traps.

The U.S. Department of Transportation High-Speed Test track
is out there, a hundred-mile train-loop where the crews go
in circles for a thousand miles a night, squashing
rattlesnakes on the tracks in the summer.

Carl Fogel

For unrelated reasons, I was just ogling a local map
and saw to my shame that the DOT railroad test track
is not the hundred-mile loop of which I boasted--it's
only a dinky little ten-mile oval, even though there's
plenty of room for a hundred-mile oval in the empty
quarter between Ordway and Punkin Center.

I'd like to think that I was misled by long-ago
conversations with railroad employees, but the most
likely culprit is my fevered imagination.

Carl Fogel

Ahhh...what's an order of magnitude among friends?...you probably would
wonder why you weren't tired after riding that "century" in about 40
minutes...