For The Love of God or Something......

If Dolly the Sheep was a sacrilege in the world of God fearing, on-their-knees-folk, an equally heinous crime has been committed in my world. A Crank busting, ECU shorting, cog crunching kind of event. In the world of pistons, cranks, injectors, spark plugs, glow plugs, pump deuse and what have you, the highly talented whizzes from IITs and MITs of the globe are fighting Gods predetermined order.

Let me draw an analogy. If there was only one kind of woman in the world it would be one helluva existence. For example, they would no longer be tall, thin, fat, cute, fair, dark or whatever else that works for you. Sure she could be all of these but, she would be the same as the others... and therefore....unexciting. Sure, all of them would look good and, same. You wouldn’t have one with that wide smile or that button nose or that divine behind. Jeepers!! And who am I am pointing my wicked finger at for this? It’s those smart alecs we spoke of earlier, going about trying to do exactly this in the homo sapien world. By splitting, identifying, charting and mapping chromosomes and the DNA construction they hope to rid the human race of its flaws. Oh sure, it will only iron out strains of genetic diseases-sure it will. How will these do gooders be directed to do that much and only that? However, all this might still take a while before I really need to go ballistic about the super strong -humans of tomorrow or the genetic IQ 146 sect.

The reason I am teetering at this ludicrous edge of sanity is because of the more and more sophisticated mills that are being churned out by manufacturers; and they always seem to have even newer versions before the first one is in the market. There are engine’s that use their super sensor battalion and completely variable everythings to drive themselves, no matter how stupid the guy behind the wheel really is and no matter what maneuvers he pulls.. No seriously, I don’t remember asking for a diesel that thinks it’s a petrol. Take the oil chuggers of nowadays – who’s to tell that it’s a diesel and not a petrol. They sound pretty much the same on the outside when you start them up. On the inside, if the manufacturer has done his homework right you will not be able to make out the difference either. But the one area where you could distinctly make out was once you got behind the wheel. Thus, my frothing state, for I’d bite my leg, twice, before saying “Yes please, this is a diesel indeed.” Soft turbos, high pressure rails, deuse-me injectors, and the blaster ray from the Enterprise have all descended all aiming to give your oil burner a petrol identity. Mild chug alongs even in the rev range

Hypocritical as ever, I clap these fine gentlemen for their outstanding efforts. “Well done Mr X, phenomenal engine.”And the end result? future generation who won’t have to face the pressures of turbo lag or whistle, or the orgiastic wave of low down grunt, or the clatter. Get in press the pedal and whiz off. It’s not just Formula 1 that is meant for chimps, is it? Ill shout out a hurrah for that when i feel like it.