About Unca Frank
Yep, another guy with a computer and too much time on his hands. Former ad guy, former sales guy, former 25-year road racer (and drag race dabbler), former sanctioning body official, former Rules Geek, former, ahem..., flower-child wannabe, former, well, you get the picture.
Life-long car guy and hobby obsessive - planes, trains, and cars. Always cars, cars of all kinds. My mom always said that cars would be the ruin of me. Well, Mom, here's your proof. I've got a web site and you don't. Yet. Neener, neener, neener. Gee, isn't being an adult fun?
© 1998 UFIE f_eubel@juno.com
Unca Frank's Wonderful World Of Dead Squirrels And Toothless Eskimo Women!
Opinions? Editorial comment? Waah? Not Exactly what you were looking for, huh? Well, what is, these days? And how, you might ask, does this relate to cars, racing, and automotive hobbies? Stories, dear Visitor, anecdotes, rants, tirades, whatever. After littering other people’s Web sites and bulletin boards with my opinions, outlandish tales, homilies, and general technical gibberish, I now have a place of my own to ruin.
SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING:
Having a Sense of Humor Now Greatly
Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health
And here it is. Mostly gray, no less, not because it’s a personal statement about some existential good-and-evil conflict, but because it’s easy on the eyes after a hard day of wowie-zowie Web graphics. Besides, like Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
Yeah! Where are all the cool graphics?
Get a grip. There aren’t any. Don’t bother looking any further. A few pictures (some universally meaningful, most not) and a lot of text. Think of it as being "content-driven" without the content.
If you’re old enough to have lived through/participated in the C.B. radio craze, you’ll recognize this for what it is: Yet more proof that Marshall McLuhan was right about everyone getting their 15 minutes of fame. And could he have imagined that someone could retain both anonymity and notoriety at the same time? Who knows? Who cares?
Let your fingers (or mouse) do the walking.
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