JacobSanford.com

Just a few Montreal photos out of the batch as promised. I have posted two photos of Martina Hingis because…. well.. It’s my blog and I can do whatever I like.

I have a lot more but not a lot of time to process them. Hopefully more to come in the next week or so.

By now most people are aware of my intense fear of the sun. When outdoors I generally sport a giant brimmed hat and long-limbed clothing. I dislike the beach and prefer to be outdoors in the shade of a tree or other giant shady feature. Mr. Burns’ sun-blocking panel in the Simpsons seemed like a great idea to me. Whenever I do step out - it’s sunblock city - face - ears - neck etc. And I’m a hairy guy - so application is anything but simple.

But lets move on…

Why this strange fear? I’m convinced sun-burns are actually a terrorist plot to disrupt our way of life in North America. CNN told me so.

Seriously though, am I someone who hates all stars? Or am I racist and only dislike the yellow ones? How about fusion-reaction-disgust? Actually, I bet the super-giant Betelguese would never want to burn my skin… I guess I’m okay with that one.

It’s obvious that my mental instability plays a large part in my sun-fear, yet I do recall getting a horrible sunburn as a child. The camp counselors at a YMCA day camp marched me porter-style in the sun all day without re-applying the coating of sunblock my mother had covered me in before leaving that morning. Yikes - have to get back on track agan…..

As a result of the phobia, I rarely tan and never recieve a sunburn (e.d. Three years ago I recieved a mild burn from an irresponsible act of snorkeling in the Dominican republic but otherwise I’ve been burn-free). Until Monday.

I admit, I was somewhat distracted by skirt-wearing female tennis professionals coupled with a very deceptive overcast sky - and I burned a small part of my arms. I am ashamed and apalled at my lack of protection.

At least I got some good photos. But you can’t see them yet.

Mabye tomorrow, that is, if I don’t lose my arm from this sunburn.

I am convinced that it is an almost impossible task to attempt to truly understand and appreciate the experience of driving an automobile without having learned to effectively operate a manual transmission. An automatic transmission simply lacks the feeling of existing with and understanding a machine that man has created.

My father had a 5-speed Ford ranger several years ago and, to be honest, I loved it. One Christmas , my gift to him was a chrome skull shift-knob whose eyes lit up red when you changed gears. It made the entire vehicle even more fantastic and, thinking about it now, since he sold the truck, I’ve been missing driving it.

I have extremely fond memories of driving in that Ranger - gearing her down and hearing the engine whinny to slow for a sharp corner, and then immediately punching the gas and running the beast quickly up 3 gears to get to top speed. It was almost a feeling of freedom. And that’s a feeling that has yet to be duplicated by a rented automatic-transmission Pontiac Pursuit, despite it’s obviously exciting name.

I’d like to take this soapbox opportunity to remind you that there is a 98% chance that you will be dispatched by terrorists today using toothpaste or shampoo based weapons.

You might as well get your affairs in order - you’re done for.