The only constant is change.
None of us were around when men worked in the gas lamplighting profession. Men would light the gaslamps on the city streets each evening, and extinguish them in the morning. When electricity was invented, gaslamps went away. So did the lamplighters.
New professions spring forth. Think about all the new jobs that computers spawned.
I saw this machine in Colorado. One stops. Stares. Tilts one's head, puzzled, but only briefly. New sports birth new tools.
It's a half-pipe groomer.
It took several days to get a good picture. Most of the other attempts were on grey, cloudy, flat-light days. The Etherknitter, after solving the ABC-Along "Z" problem, was giddy. A big smile lit her face, and she pointed her skis into the half-pipe.
Yeah. The flat light made the sky, the snow, and the half-pipe walls all meld into each other visually. I couldn't see where the walls sloped up. Too late, I realized why I was the only one in the pipe.
Picture a gerbil trying to climb the glass walls of its aquarium enclosure. The half-pipe had been groomed and ridden until the surfaces were a sheet of ice. My skis were not the right tool for the job. Terrain park skis are much shorter. Half-pipe riders are much younger. I couldn't tell when up was up, and when down was coming.
While there wasn't frank carnage going on, it wasn't a pretty sight. Humiliation isn't understating my exit from the bottom of the half-pipe, as I desperately scrabbled to stay on my feet.
But I got my Z.