If Mitt Romney is weak broth, Newt Gingrich is a bouillon cube. Watching the two Republican presidential front-runners in New Hampshire over two days has been a study in contrasts. Romney is a known conservative ingredient suitable in a main dish. Gingrich is a powerful dose of partisan flavor to be used sparingly.
Gingrich is having his moment now because he offers punchy answers and ready solutions to seemingly insoluble problems. If he endures an examination of his personal baggage, his record on the issues, and his private-sector career, it will be in part because he is the “Republican Ideas Man.” But when you listen to those ideas—the scope of the change he is proposing, and the punch with which he delivers his pitch—you get the sense that that voters may not be interested in the Gingrich past because they’re too scared of the Gingrich future.
As Romney finished a four-day campaign swing through the state where he has dominated the polls, he touted his recent spending reduction plan and offered his carefully honed lines. President Obama “said if he was unable to get this economy turned around, he would be looking at a one-term proposition,” Romney said. “Well, I’m here to collect.”
Romney is the safe and steady candidate, and he joked about that when handing out sandwiches at a local diner.” This is Mitt Romney "raw and unleashed," he said, referring to a Saturday Night Live skit that made fun of his boring personality. (It's true: There are reports he returned a VCR tape in the late 1980s without rewinding.)
Listening to Gingrich is a more rock-'em–sock-'em experience. He's a whirring dispensary of ideas and insults. He's going to eliminate White House czars on his first day in office. The supercommittee "is the single dumbest legislative idea" he’s ever heard of. Government retraining will be available for lawyers who lose their jobs because of tort reform. The delay in building a border fence is "utterly stupid."
It's easy to see why Gingrich is appealing to Republican voters. They don’t need to imagine the stupidity in Washington that Gingrich lampoons. His ideas sound thoughtful. He is good with a political attack or jibe, which is appealing to voters trying to find the magic trick to beating an incumbent. So when Gingrich boasts that he is the best candidate because he can beat President Obama in debates, he adds that Obama won't possibly say no to his suggested three-hour Lincoln-Douglas-style debate because an Ivy Leaguer would never admit to being "afraid to be on the same platform with a guy who taught at West Georgia College."
Gingrich is competing on Romney’s turf with that claim about debates. Polls regularly show that voters believe Romney is one who can beat Obama. His business background gives him a good pitch on the economy. Gingrich is trying to leverage his impressive performances in the debates into an argument for why he can go the distance.
Like many of Gingrich's theories, it sounds good—but general election debates will have a different audience. Gingrich won't be pitching to conservatives looking for a fighting champion. He'll be talking to independent and undecided voters. Do they really want Gingrich's message of big change, brusquely delivered?
In scope and personality Gingrich asks a lot. He's talking about profound change. (His boldness is a regular theme of his talks.) But people are already bounced around by change. Do voters really want a constant flow of it from the professor? Even if the strategy is to make government more efficient and get it out of your life, the main takeaway of the Gingrich idea flurry is that everything is going to get thrown upside down.
2011年11月21日星期一
2011年11月14日星期一
Photography has ruined travel
Nicotine is bad. Drugs are worse. But we know about them.
There is one addiction that has passed unnoticed into the very heart of modern society, threatening to ensnare the minds of everyone reading this article, and more.
It is insidiously creeping up on hitherto reasonable members of the civilized world, threatening to turn us all into beaming, giggling fools, our faces locked into clownish grins and our brains distracted at the slightest click.
The bane of 21st-century life is the phone camera, a product of such technological prowess and immediate convenience that no one would blame you for “just trying it.”
But one click leads to another; if you don’t like the first hit you delete and try again.
Before you know it you have 300 pictures on your phone comprising beaming, giggling fools, plates of food and cats making funny faces and you have succumbed; you have been dragged in; your life is now defined by images on a handset and the same goes for all your friends.
To give it up now would be just too hard.
The real victims of this click-happy menace are travelers.
Not just the travelers who hope to see a spectacular waterfall in Chile only for the view to be blocked by hundreds of beaming, giggling addicts, but also those camera-phone addicts who are themselves travelers.
Because much like the wretch who drinks to be happy, the snappers are deluded: they think their photos are creating memories, when in fact they are sabotaging them.
My junk was the real deal. Class-A stuff, the cocaine of the photography world -- the digital SLR.
With this oversized device I felt confident. I felt virile. It made me feel superior to the beaming, giggling amateurs fumbling about with their pathetic phones and small, flaccid point-and-shoots.
It took an epiphany for me to kick the habit.
I was diving in Thailand, when a whale shark emerged from the gloom. I snapped away at the beast with my underwater apparatus for the few minutes of air I had left, then returned topside to high-five and celebrate this potentially once-in-a-lifetime experience.
As I scrolled through the 100-odd pictures I had, I realized: they were all I had.
My memories are framed by the 2x2-inch blurry screen of my camera. Not once did I look up to see the fish with my own eyes.
The problem runs much deeper than a small camera addiction too. The technological age has trapped us inside cotton-wool cages.
Just over a decade ago there was no Google to point you to the nearest café. No satellite technology connecting you, via your phone, to a computer to an ATM to the nearest hotel.
When people traveled, they got off the plane and explored. They asked people, real people, where to go for a great night out, not some kind of Stephen Hawking robot girl inside your phone.
Sorry, Siri, you’re not my type. Great fun for profound philosophical inquiries, but when it comes to places to get good dim sum, “25 alternatives within half a mile” is such a turn-off.
Technology treats travel like a puzzle that needs solving. In fact the world is less Rubik’s Cube, more Magic 8 Ball.
Too often the Internet search is a first resort rather than a last, a shortcut that, at least for travelers, gets us to the end while bypassing the means. It is the destination without the journey.
So here’s a challenge: get lost. Seriously. Next time you’re in a new town, ditch the phone. Disable your GPS. Close your eyes, point, then open them and walk. If you need to find somewhere, ask someone.
Even if the place recommended by Real Human is a dive and takes you for US$15 a beer and gives you an intestinal worm and ends with a chase down a dark alley by a chef with a dirty rolling pin, at least you get a good story.
At least you’ve traveled and explored and discovered, for yourself.
But in fact the place recommended by Real Human is far less likely to be a disaster than one randomly suggested by a logarithm.
Getting lost is something to be embraced, not feared.
That’s when you discover the cafe with the weird hallucinogenic soup served by cats in bowler hats that somehow Lonely Planet managed to miss.
Far more fulfilling, I think, than the perfectly efficient evening of hotel-restaurant-hotel, courtesy Google Maps.
There is one addiction that has passed unnoticed into the very heart of modern society, threatening to ensnare the minds of everyone reading this article, and more.
It is insidiously creeping up on hitherto reasonable members of the civilized world, threatening to turn us all into beaming, giggling fools, our faces locked into clownish grins and our brains distracted at the slightest click.
The bane of 21st-century life is the phone camera, a product of such technological prowess and immediate convenience that no one would blame you for “just trying it.”
But one click leads to another; if you don’t like the first hit you delete and try again.
Before you know it you have 300 pictures on your phone comprising beaming, giggling fools, plates of food and cats making funny faces and you have succumbed; you have been dragged in; your life is now defined by images on a handset and the same goes for all your friends.
To give it up now would be just too hard.
The real victims of this click-happy menace are travelers.
Not just the travelers who hope to see a spectacular waterfall in Chile only for the view to be blocked by hundreds of beaming, giggling addicts, but also those camera-phone addicts who are themselves travelers.
Because much like the wretch who drinks to be happy, the snappers are deluded: they think their photos are creating memories, when in fact they are sabotaging them.
My junk was the real deal. Class-A stuff, the cocaine of the photography world -- the digital SLR.
With this oversized device I felt confident. I felt virile. It made me feel superior to the beaming, giggling amateurs fumbling about with their pathetic phones and small, flaccid point-and-shoots.
It took an epiphany for me to kick the habit.
I was diving in Thailand, when a whale shark emerged from the gloom. I snapped away at the beast with my underwater apparatus for the few minutes of air I had left, then returned topside to high-five and celebrate this potentially once-in-a-lifetime experience.
As I scrolled through the 100-odd pictures I had, I realized: they were all I had.
My memories are framed by the 2x2-inch blurry screen of my camera. Not once did I look up to see the fish with my own eyes.
The problem runs much deeper than a small camera addiction too. The technological age has trapped us inside cotton-wool cages.
Just over a decade ago there was no Google to point you to the nearest café. No satellite technology connecting you, via your phone, to a computer to an ATM to the nearest hotel.
When people traveled, they got off the plane and explored. They asked people, real people, where to go for a great night out, not some kind of Stephen Hawking robot girl inside your phone.
Sorry, Siri, you’re not my type. Great fun for profound philosophical inquiries, but when it comes to places to get good dim sum, “25 alternatives within half a mile” is such a turn-off.
Technology treats travel like a puzzle that needs solving. In fact the world is less Rubik’s Cube, more Magic 8 Ball.
Too often the Internet search is a first resort rather than a last, a shortcut that, at least for travelers, gets us to the end while bypassing the means. It is the destination without the journey.
So here’s a challenge: get lost. Seriously. Next time you’re in a new town, ditch the phone. Disable your GPS. Close your eyes, point, then open them and walk. If you need to find somewhere, ask someone.
Even if the place recommended by Real Human is a dive and takes you for US$15 a beer and gives you an intestinal worm and ends with a chase down a dark alley by a chef with a dirty rolling pin, at least you get a good story.
At least you’ve traveled and explored and discovered, for yourself.
But in fact the place recommended by Real Human is far less likely to be a disaster than one randomly suggested by a logarithm.
Getting lost is something to be embraced, not feared.
That’s when you discover the cafe with the weird hallucinogenic soup served by cats in bowler hats that somehow Lonely Planet managed to miss.
Far more fulfilling, I think, than the perfectly efficient evening of hotel-restaurant-hotel, courtesy Google Maps.
2011年10月18日星期二
Rethinking your hobbies
I love what you write about keeping your hobbies and interests, but I have a bit of a different problem.
When I was a teenager, I found a lot of solace in comic books. I like how they presented a world that wasn’t completely soaked in moral ambiguity and that good people generally came out on top, something I didn’t often see in my real life at the time.
Now, I’m 31. I have a great job that pays very well. I’ve been dating a girl seriously for several years. And I also still have my comic book hobby. I buy a few dozen titles a month, read them, put them in plastic bags, and save them in a storage room I have in the basement of my home.
Sometimes, though, when I go down there, I feel like there’s a ton of money wasted. I look around and wonder what I could have done with all of those resources and it adds a twinge of guilt. I also have a sense that maybe I should “grow up.”
I’m wondering what your thoughts are.
First of all, I don’t have a problem with any non-destructive hobby that brings personal enjoyment, even ones others might define as “childish.” I have one friend who collects vintage action figures and another friend who’s into My Little Ponies. They’re both in their thirties and are well-adjusted folks with great careers. If it brings you joy without personal injury, enjoy it.
The question really is whether or not you get sufficient enjoyment out of the hobby for what you put into it. I don’t really know what your costs are for the hobby and I also don’t know what your enjoyment level is at this point. Do you get excited about comic books at this point? Do you look forward to reading them? Do you re-read old issues? Do you follow hobby news online?
There’s also the nostalgia factor. Sometimes we change as people and it’s very hard to let go of something that meant something deeply to us in the past. In fact, it can often go so far as to produce some joy in the present that’s actually just an echo of what we once got a great deal of joy out of. It also may be that what you enjoy about the hobby has changed – or, in your case, you now have this sense that you need to “bag” all of your comics to preserve them when before they were something you read, cut up for art projects, mangled, threw under your bed, and “lived” with.
The closest hobby I have in my own life to compare this to is Magic: the Gathering. For those unfamiliar, Magic: the Gathering is a trading card game, meaning that you can easily play a game of it with just a few cards, but there are literally tens of thousands of different cards available, each of which can alter the game. Players choose their own small sets of cards from their collection to play with, called decks.
I started playing Magic: the Gathering in high school when several of my friends and I started playing all at once. I kept playing into college and for a bit after college, but once my first child was born, I had to take stock of the hobby. I realized that what I actually enjoyed at this point was the occasional game with my wife and with old friends. I had no real need or interest to continue to buy new cards.
So I sold off most of my collection right around the time we needed some help with our financial turnaround. The collection had been sitting in my closet for a year or two anyway at that point, with only a few cards actually played with. I turned the remainder of the cards into a handful of playable decks and a “draft cube” (another playable set of cards) and kept around a few leftovers to occasionally trade for newer stuff to put into those decks.
Today, I probably play Magic once a month. I’ll play with my wife or with another close friend of mine. I don’t buy any new cards – instead, I just pull out some of the ones I have. I realized that what I enjoy about the hobby right now doesn’t require me to spend any money.
My oldest child is starting to show an interest in it, too, as he watches us play. His reading skills aren’t quite there yet, but he understands some of what’s going on.
When I was a teenager, I found a lot of solace in comic books. I like how they presented a world that wasn’t completely soaked in moral ambiguity and that good people generally came out on top, something I didn’t often see in my real life at the time.
Now, I’m 31. I have a great job that pays very well. I’ve been dating a girl seriously for several years. And I also still have my comic book hobby. I buy a few dozen titles a month, read them, put them in plastic bags, and save them in a storage room I have in the basement of my home.
Sometimes, though, when I go down there, I feel like there’s a ton of money wasted. I look around and wonder what I could have done with all of those resources and it adds a twinge of guilt. I also have a sense that maybe I should “grow up.”
I’m wondering what your thoughts are.
First of all, I don’t have a problem with any non-destructive hobby that brings personal enjoyment, even ones others might define as “childish.” I have one friend who collects vintage action figures and another friend who’s into My Little Ponies. They’re both in their thirties and are well-adjusted folks with great careers. If it brings you joy without personal injury, enjoy it.
The question really is whether or not you get sufficient enjoyment out of the hobby for what you put into it. I don’t really know what your costs are for the hobby and I also don’t know what your enjoyment level is at this point. Do you get excited about comic books at this point? Do you look forward to reading them? Do you re-read old issues? Do you follow hobby news online?
There’s also the nostalgia factor. Sometimes we change as people and it’s very hard to let go of something that meant something deeply to us in the past. In fact, it can often go so far as to produce some joy in the present that’s actually just an echo of what we once got a great deal of joy out of. It also may be that what you enjoy about the hobby has changed – or, in your case, you now have this sense that you need to “bag” all of your comics to preserve them when before they were something you read, cut up for art projects, mangled, threw under your bed, and “lived” with.
The closest hobby I have in my own life to compare this to is Magic: the Gathering. For those unfamiliar, Magic: the Gathering is a trading card game, meaning that you can easily play a game of it with just a few cards, but there are literally tens of thousands of different cards available, each of which can alter the game. Players choose their own small sets of cards from their collection to play with, called decks.
I started playing Magic: the Gathering in high school when several of my friends and I started playing all at once. I kept playing into college and for a bit after college, but once my first child was born, I had to take stock of the hobby. I realized that what I actually enjoyed at this point was the occasional game with my wife and with old friends. I had no real need or interest to continue to buy new cards.
So I sold off most of my collection right around the time we needed some help with our financial turnaround. The collection had been sitting in my closet for a year or two anyway at that point, with only a few cards actually played with. I turned the remainder of the cards into a handful of playable decks and a “draft cube” (another playable set of cards) and kept around a few leftovers to occasionally trade for newer stuff to put into those decks.
Today, I probably play Magic once a month. I’ll play with my wife or with another close friend of mine. I don’t buy any new cards – instead, I just pull out some of the ones I have. I realized that what I enjoy about the hobby right now doesn’t require me to spend any money.
My oldest child is starting to show an interest in it, too, as he watches us play. His reading skills aren’t quite there yet, but he understands some of what’s going on.
2011年10月10日星期一
Arcam rCube review
Apple’s Steve Jobs always had a thing about cubes (G4, NeXT), and a love of music. Arcam’s very Apple-like rCube speaker system looks and sounds so good Steve would have been happy to have stuck the company logo on it.
Apple’s one venture into own-branded speakers was the quickly forgotten Apple iPod Hi-Fi – a great, big slab that looked like a single speaker had toppled onto its side.
(I’m ignoring the translucent SoundSticks, iSub and Cube speakers as they were a joint venture with Harman Kardon.)
The Arcam rCube combines the cool, minimalist looks of an Apple product with top-quality audio performance.
It’s not just minimalist in its clean glossy black or white lines. It measures just 200mm cubed. And at 5kg it’s half the weight of other supposedly portable speakers like B&W’s Zeppelin.
You wouldn’t want to carry the rCube all day but it’s easy to move around the house or office with its nifty hidden handle.
And it’s not just smart in looks and sound. The rCube is more sophisticated than other premium speaker systems.
It’s wireless in more ways than one. Using the rWave USB dongle you can losslessly and wirelessly stream music from your PC or Mac at up to 50m. Better than that you can connect up to eight rCubes to create your very own whole-home audio network.
The rWand+, meanwhile, lets you wirelessly stream at the same lossless quality from your iPhone or iPod or iPad, at a distance of 10m.
With the rWand+ you can control what’s playing without having to leave the garden or kitchen. And parties can get even more interactive by passing the rWand+ round so that friends can have their turn DJing using their own iPods, etc.
Both rWave and rWand+ use clever Kleer wireless technology that’s superior to standard Bluetooth.
These extra don’t come cheap, however. The rWave costs £79, and the rWand just a tenner less. Neither comes packed with the base rCube unit.
The rCube’s integral Lithium-Ion rechargeable battery is a trooper, lasting up to eight hours, which should be long enough for most parties or days out in the garden.
And while it’s resting it will charge your iPod or iPhone.
The touch controls on the top of the rCube are also minimal, and there’s a slimish remote offering the usual volume and track functions.
And here’s my only negative about Arcam’s rCube. Despite being a cube you have to aim the remote at a reasonably strict angle to get results – usually above or to the front of the unit.
At the back you get a rear panel row of ports and sockets (AUX, Composite and Component Video, a USB connector for firmware upgrades, DC In, and a power switch).
There’s also a switch to reduce bass output when the unit is placed in a corner. When the rCube’s sitting in the middle of the room or at least away from bass-reinforcing walls you can activate the Bass Boost to compensate.
Unlike many similar better-sound-at-the-push-of-a-button magic switches on rival speakers Arcam’s Bass Boost button really does make a difference.
It’s hard to put into words just how good the Arcam rCube sounds – with pretty much any genre of music. It’s a cliché to say the sound has to be heard to be believed but I was not expecting the level of acoustic fidelity even though I’d read plenty of eulogising rCube reviews.
What HiFi praised its “unbreakably cohesive delivery … subtlety and sufficient punch”. Other reviews point out the rCube’s power and clarity, and state that “its acoustic performance is unmatched” and “gorgeously complete”.
What’s not to like about the rCube? Well, at £500 it was a luxury purchase – worth the money but out of many people’s price range. So the recent price drop to £350 makes this a superb and affordable premium Apple device speaker system.
Apple’s one venture into own-branded speakers was the quickly forgotten Apple iPod Hi-Fi – a great, big slab that looked like a single speaker had toppled onto its side.
(I’m ignoring the translucent SoundSticks, iSub and Cube speakers as they were a joint venture with Harman Kardon.)
The Arcam rCube combines the cool, minimalist looks of an Apple product with top-quality audio performance.
It’s not just minimalist in its clean glossy black or white lines. It measures just 200mm cubed. And at 5kg it’s half the weight of other supposedly portable speakers like B&W’s Zeppelin.
You wouldn’t want to carry the rCube all day but it’s easy to move around the house or office with its nifty hidden handle.
And it’s not just smart in looks and sound. The rCube is more sophisticated than other premium speaker systems.
It’s wireless in more ways than one. Using the rWave USB dongle you can losslessly and wirelessly stream music from your PC or Mac at up to 50m. Better than that you can connect up to eight rCubes to create your very own whole-home audio network.
The rWand+, meanwhile, lets you wirelessly stream at the same lossless quality from your iPhone or iPod or iPad, at a distance of 10m.
With the rWand+ you can control what’s playing without having to leave the garden or kitchen. And parties can get even more interactive by passing the rWand+ round so that friends can have their turn DJing using their own iPods, etc.
Both rWave and rWand+ use clever Kleer wireless technology that’s superior to standard Bluetooth.
These extra don’t come cheap, however. The rWave costs £79, and the rWand just a tenner less. Neither comes packed with the base rCube unit.
The rCube’s integral Lithium-Ion rechargeable battery is a trooper, lasting up to eight hours, which should be long enough for most parties or days out in the garden.
And while it’s resting it will charge your iPod or iPhone.
The touch controls on the top of the rCube are also minimal, and there’s a slimish remote offering the usual volume and track functions.
And here’s my only negative about Arcam’s rCube. Despite being a cube you have to aim the remote at a reasonably strict angle to get results – usually above or to the front of the unit.
At the back you get a rear panel row of ports and sockets (AUX, Composite and Component Video, a USB connector for firmware upgrades, DC In, and a power switch).
There’s also a switch to reduce bass output when the unit is placed in a corner. When the rCube’s sitting in the middle of the room or at least away from bass-reinforcing walls you can activate the Bass Boost to compensate.
Unlike many similar better-sound-at-the-push-of-a-button magic switches on rival speakers Arcam’s Bass Boost button really does make a difference.
It’s hard to put into words just how good the Arcam rCube sounds – with pretty much any genre of music. It’s a cliché to say the sound has to be heard to be believed but I was not expecting the level of acoustic fidelity even though I’d read plenty of eulogising rCube reviews.
What HiFi praised its “unbreakably cohesive delivery … subtlety and sufficient punch”. Other reviews point out the rCube’s power and clarity, and state that “its acoustic performance is unmatched” and “gorgeously complete”.
What’s not to like about the rCube? Well, at £500 it was a luxury purchase – worth the money but out of many people’s price range. So the recent price drop to £350 makes this a superb and affordable premium Apple device speaker system.
2011年6月1日星期三
Urban Magic Cube house in central Paris by Paul Katz Architecture
Small corner lots in a highly populated neighbourhood can be transformed into extraordinary residences. Just take a look at this next centrally situated Paris house: it rises in the middle of District 20 as proof of smart urban dwelling. The sustainable building rests on a recycled stone base. The glass and wood used in creating a contemporary facade for the Magic Cube offer a modern approach to architecture for small lots and it also beautifies the neighbourhood. Reflecting the surrounding nature, the wooden panels used for the facade soften the cold feeling given by the extensive use of glass. A glass lining between the base and the body of the structure creates the impression of a floating building. Low energy costs, solar panels, under-floor heating, sewage treatment and recyclable materials used in constructing the house expose the sustainable measures taken for this residence.
High-tech features ensure a modern lifestyle: remote controlled central heating, fingerprint key reader at the entrance, motion sensor controlled lighting and automatic awnings that close to offer the perfect amount of light complete this residence’s contemporary features. Designed by Paul Katz Architecture, the Magic Cube house expresses the idea of luxurious urban living in a personalized house in the heart of Paris.
High-tech features ensure a modern lifestyle: remote controlled central heating, fingerprint key reader at the entrance, motion sensor controlled lighting and automatic awnings that close to offer the perfect amount of light complete this residence’s contemporary features. Designed by Paul Katz Architecture, the Magic Cube house expresses the idea of luxurious urban living in a personalized house in the heart of Paris.
2011年2月28日星期一
PETERS: Leaves Desert Fifth In Series Points
Red Horse Racing driver Timothy Peters bounced back from a late-race spin to finish
12th in the Lucas Oil 150 NASCAR Camping World Truck Series race at Phoenix
International Raceway and move up to fifth in the series points standings.
Peters showed speed out of the No. 17 GearWrench Toyota Tundra from the start of the
weekend, as he drove to third early in the long practice session at the 1-mile track.
After making adjustments, crew chief Butch Hylton sent Peters out for a mock qualifying
run in the closing laps of the practice, but Peters was blocked by another truck and
had to abandon the fast run.
Peters then qualified 11th for the 150-lap race, which began as the sun was setting
across the southern Arizona desert.
He moved into the top 10 in the opening laps of the race, though he was reporting the
truck was tight entering the corners. Hylton made an air-pressure adjustment on the
first pit stop on lap 43, and Peters continued to race in the top 10.
With 48 laps to go, Hylton made another air-pressure adjustment, and the Red Horse crew
gained Peters two spots on pit road under a caution.
As he challenged another driver for sixth place on lap 123, Peters made contact with
another truck and spun in Turn 2. He didn't hit anything, but the tires were flat-
spotted, and Peters headed to pit road for four tires.
Peters restarted 15th with 24 laps to go and gained three positions in the closing
laps, even though he was racing on older tires because the team had used its allotment
of fresh Goodyears.
"We had a decent truck all night long," Peters said. "Our GearWrench Tundra was a
little snug, but they got me right in the pits. Those guys do a great job in the pits.
"I just put us in a bad position (with the spin). The hole was open, and I went down,
and it closed up pretty quick, and we spun out. It's not what we wanted, but we had a
good truck and we finished 12th, in one piece."
Peters may have accepted the blame for the spin, though replays showed otherwise. Two
trucks were racing for position ahead, and those two slowed as they exited Turn 2. That
caused Justin Johnson to take evasive action, and it just happened to be to the low
side, where Peters was making a move for position.
Still, with the finish of 12th, Peters managed to move up two positions to fifth in the
Camping World Truck Standings. He has 66 points, five behind leader Matt Crafton and
one behind fourth-place Johnny Sauter.
"We'll go to Darlington and maybe make up for it there," Peters said. "As far as I'm
concerned, I got my worst track out of the way until we get to Loudon."
12th in the Lucas Oil 150 NASCAR Camping World Truck Series race at Phoenix
International Raceway and move up to fifth in the series points standings.
Peters showed speed out of the No. 17 GearWrench Toyota Tundra from the start of the
weekend, as he drove to third early in the long practice session at the 1-mile track.
After making adjustments, crew chief Butch Hylton sent Peters out for a mock qualifying
run in the closing laps of the practice, but Peters was blocked by another truck and
had to abandon the fast run.
Peters then qualified 11th for the 150-lap race, which began as the sun was setting
across the southern Arizona desert.
He moved into the top 10 in the opening laps of the race, though he was reporting the
truck was tight entering the corners. Hylton made an air-pressure adjustment on the
first pit stop on lap 43, and Peters continued to race in the top 10.
With 48 laps to go, Hylton made another air-pressure adjustment, and the Red Horse crew
gained Peters two spots on pit road under a caution.
As he challenged another driver for sixth place on lap 123, Peters made contact with
another truck and spun in Turn 2. He didn't hit anything, but the tires were flat-
spotted, and Peters headed to pit road for four tires.
Peters restarted 15th with 24 laps to go and gained three positions in the closing
laps, even though he was racing on older tires because the team had used its allotment
of fresh Goodyears.
"We had a decent truck all night long," Peters said. "Our GearWrench Tundra was a
little snug, but they got me right in the pits. Those guys do a great job in the pits.
"I just put us in a bad position (with the spin). The hole was open, and I went down,
and it closed up pretty quick, and we spun out. It's not what we wanted, but we had a
good truck and we finished 12th, in one piece."
Peters may have accepted the blame for the spin, though replays showed otherwise. Two
trucks were racing for position ahead, and those two slowed as they exited Turn 2. That
caused Justin Johnson to take evasive action, and it just happened to be to the low
side, where Peters was making a move for position.
Still, with the finish of 12th, Peters managed to move up two positions to fifth in the
Camping World Truck Standings. He has 66 points, five behind leader Matt Crafton and
one behind fourth-place Johnny Sauter.
"We'll go to Darlington and maybe make up for it there," Peters said. "As far as I'm
concerned, I got my worst track out of the way until we get to Loudon."
订阅：
博文 (Atom)