This is truly terrifying. If I had a time machine (just a little more time…all I need is a little more time) and could visit my ancient self…

In that long, painful moment preceding comfort with women, this is how many hours were spent.

In retrospect, it could have been much worse. I could have been trying to build a flying car using an old electric motor, a few pieces of wood found in my basement, a plan drawn-up on cheap stationary involving multiple raids of a junkyard (note1: guard dogs must be neutralized with high decibel sound emitter — note2: build high decibel sound emitter) and an iron refusal to be bored.

Oh, yeah, that’s right I did do all that.

…link…

OF COURSE, the United States has a pretty terrible public transit system overall.

There are many reasons for this and if I had more time or wasn’t quite so lazy at the moment I’d look up these reasons and include them in this little essay.

Suffice to say that for millions of people driving is not an option or a luxury but one of a list of things that must be done.

I’ve found, to my discomfort, perhaps even horror – no, “horror” is too strong a word, let’s settle for discomfort – that there are two levels of driving flowing side by side like parallel universes each time we’re behind the wheel.

There’s the driving of commericals – you know this: rolling hills, roads of flawless perfection, a complete lack of traffic (or at least, traffic that moves at a snail’s pace or stops altogether) and other pleasures. Hand in hand with this is the driving of films where dynamic maneuvers and high speeds only end in fiery, flying destruction for bald men grimly shooting at you with exotic weapons from out their windows.

The commericial universe’s driving world is calm and perfect – when you leave your Euro themed, ultra modern mountain home (usually at night, under the vaguely blue, soft glow of halogen) or, alternatively, if it’s an American car, SUV or truck being pitched, an immense sub or ex-urban super-house – you know you’ll reach your destination in serene comfort approximately ten minutes after starting out.

Even if it’s hundreds of miles away.

And, as we know, the film driving world is exicting.

We understand these are fantasies; we understand there are real potholes, overturned trucks, idiots who signal left then turn right and other gifts of the excessively generous Chaos godlings.

So when we’re behind the wheel of our real cars, on real roads getting to our jobs or picking up the kids or whatever it is we’re doing via internal combustion, we know, consciously, rationally, logically like a commuting Mr. Spock that there’re going to be delays, few pleasures and, if we’re fortunate, no tire screeshing maneuvers.

But still, but still, but still….

The dream world haunts us, altering our expectations. We want to get where we need to go fast. We want the roads to be so smooth and clean you would, were you to take off your pants and place your bare bottom on them slide like warm butter down a hot, steel knife.

But that’s not the situation.

I wonder – sometimes, while sitting, immobilized, behind the wheel – if one of the reasons we don’t have better public transit is because of the dream roads that float around in our heads. If only there was one more lane, one more onramp and one more offramp we say, then, then the dreamworld and the real world would come closer together.

But the additions only help for five minutes. Soon, the old problems return. And we begin to dream again while stitting, motionless staring at someone’s license plate.

Like millions of other people, I need to get up early.

And like those millions of other people, I often don’t go to sleep early enough to wake up refreshed, and ready to wrestle squirrels for total dominance of the nuts that fall far, far, far from the tree.

So, instead of sleeping…and dreaming…I was filming.

It appears to be a trend.

There’s Asimo, a quite remarkable example of robotic engineering from Honda — about the size of a 8 year old child.

And now, constructed with a smaller budget, we can safely assume, than what Honda mustered there’s the tiny and oddly cute Humanoid Robot HR2, a project from Chalmers University of Technology, Sweden (knowing Swedish will help if you visit the University’s homepage).

There seems to be a movement afoot to build autonomous robots — perhaps inspired by the work of MIT’s Rodney Brooks — to construct small, emotionally accessible machines.

Perhaps the robot butlers people dreamed about in the mid 20th century will arrive after all.

Only they’ll be the size of a puppy and will keep us company instead of mixing our drinks.