Closing time
DISCLAIMER: the opinionated political satire expressed here is in no way affiliated or aligned with the views of Cornell University.
DISCLAIMER: the technical investigations of this team should in no way be perceived as anything but a dedicated and rigorous research effort. Please do not reproduce or otherwise make available any portion of the material found within unless permission is obtained from the author first.
I don't really want to write this post, because when I put in the final period, it'll really all be over. And yet here we are, and it really is all over- no more Monday bullsh*t sessions (systems meetings), no more rampant cursing, no more white deer, no more psychopathic walks, and no more cars without drivers. I feel almost like I've lost a very close friend, and I'm not quite willing to believe he's gone.
I know I've said this already (and I hate to belabor a point), but what we have done is nothing short of amazing. I think people are finally starting to recognize it, too. We drove the Tahoe back to Cornell last week (under cover of darkness... one last sketchy thing) and parked it outside one of the main Engineering buildings. I figured I'd sit there bored, but instead I spent the entire day explaining to people that yes, really, this car could drive itself. We set up a little console and played logs for people, showing some nice passes, intersections, and that awful double loop of Ford Taurses.
It's nice to be able to speak about it fancifully, as if it only happened in a dream. It's far weirder to do a double take and realize that there were no camera tricks, that only two and a half weeks ago I was actually sitting in that California wasteland putting all my innumerable calculations to the test. And then if there were a cake of weirdness, so to speak, it would certainly be taken by the fact that all those calculations actually did what they were supposed to do.
So what happens next? Well, in the fallout and aftermath (NO MORE MATH, PLEASE!) of the Urban Challenge I somehow have a few billion papers to write, and we're all celebrities (of a very weird sort) on campus. Everybody wants to hear about the journey, and I do love to tell it. Some stories I keep to myself, though, for my own private collection of laughs. For those of us that lived it, there are just some things that can't quite be put to words: spirit naps, operational crashes, the wide stance, Parking McGhee, the racing stripe, Hammox, the DARPA Urban Helpdesk, the participants' conference, and the sign we used to keep on the door to our lab. At this point, it really is starting to feel like the end to a bad 80's movie, where we'd show pictures of everybody with little snippets about what they'll be doing with themselves in the years to come. To make a long story short I'll just say that the team is scattered to the winds. Still, I have a feeling that as long as there is an ethernet cable between us, there is a decent possibility that our paths may cross again sometime in the future. I, for one, have no plans of retiring my "Mr. Fusion" nickname.
To my team I will say this: that you fellows are the best and brightest I have or will ever know. When I was shamelessly dragging my advisor onto the project way back in the beginning I told him that I'd stake my professional reputation on you fellows eighty times over, and I'm glad everybody got the chance to see why. I hope those close to you are proud and show it, and I wish you all the best of luck in the years to come. I've been asked to close with a particular verse taken from Timothy 2: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith."
#26 forever.
fin.
DISCLAIMER: the technical investigations of this team should in no way be perceived as anything but a dedicated and rigorous research effort. Please do not reproduce or otherwise make available any portion of the material found within unless permission is obtained from the author first.
I don't really want to write this post, because when I put in the final period, it'll really all be over. And yet here we are, and it really is all over- no more Monday bullsh*t sessions (systems meetings), no more rampant cursing, no more white deer, no more psychopathic walks, and no more cars without drivers. I feel almost like I've lost a very close friend, and I'm not quite willing to believe he's gone.
I know I've said this already (and I hate to belabor a point), but what we have done is nothing short of amazing. I think people are finally starting to recognize it, too. We drove the Tahoe back to Cornell last week (under cover of darkness... one last sketchy thing) and parked it outside one of the main Engineering buildings. I figured I'd sit there bored, but instead I spent the entire day explaining to people that yes, really, this car could drive itself. We set up a little console and played logs for people, showing some nice passes, intersections, and that awful double loop of Ford Taurses.
It's nice to be able to speak about it fancifully, as if it only happened in a dream. It's far weirder to do a double take and realize that there were no camera tricks, that only two and a half weeks ago I was actually sitting in that California wasteland putting all my innumerable calculations to the test. And then if there were a cake of weirdness, so to speak, it would certainly be taken by the fact that all those calculations actually did what they were supposed to do.
So what happens next? Well, in the fallout and aftermath (NO MORE MATH, PLEASE!) of the Urban Challenge I somehow have a few billion papers to write, and we're all celebrities (of a very weird sort) on campus. Everybody wants to hear about the journey, and I do love to tell it. Some stories I keep to myself, though, for my own private collection of laughs. For those of us that lived it, there are just some things that can't quite be put to words: spirit naps, operational crashes, the wide stance, Parking McGhee, the racing stripe, Hammox, the DARPA Urban Helpdesk, the participants' conference, and the sign we used to keep on the door to our lab. At this point, it really is starting to feel like the end to a bad 80's movie, where we'd show pictures of everybody with little snippets about what they'll be doing with themselves in the years to come. To make a long story short I'll just say that the team is scattered to the winds. Still, I have a feeling that as long as there is an ethernet cable between us, there is a decent possibility that our paths may cross again sometime in the future. I, for one, have no plans of retiring my "Mr. Fusion" nickname.
To my team I will say this: that you fellows are the best and brightest I have or will ever know. When I was shamelessly dragging my advisor onto the project way back in the beginning I told him that I'd stake my professional reputation on you fellows eighty times over, and I'm glad everybody got the chance to see why. I hope those close to you are proud and show it, and I wish you all the best of luck in the years to come. I've been asked to close with a particular verse taken from Timothy 2: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith."
#26 forever.
fin.
posted by iceman at 11:11 AM
2 Comments:
I just read your last blog entry for this chapter of your life, and with the tears flowing freely I thank you for the opportunity to witness such an achievement. I am so proud of you and amazed by all that you are.
This blog reminds me of the keynote speaker the year before your graduation from Caltech. Alan Alda reminded the students that you had a responsibility to share your knowledge in a way and on a level that others could understand it. You have accomplished that goal, amongst all the others.
#26 was blessed to have been born to Team Cornell.
Love, Mom
Congratulations seem a little understated. Wow gets closer to it! The accomplishments of you and your team are very great indeed. I want to say that in reading this BLOG Site for the past many months I have experienced laughter, joy, and most of all learning. Learning about things that were foreign notions and ideas only a few short months ago. You have an amazing ability to communicate technical stuff in ways that those of us that are not physically there with you nor schooled about the technology your expounding upon can get it - we can understand (if only a little) and then - this is the miracle - you take us with you on your journey! That is "...a rare gift indeed!" I am excited and love what you do and what you've shared - technology holds many avenues towards solutions for the problems we're facing today. I am confident the members of this Cornell Team will be in there working towards solutions. Many thanks and good luck in your future endeavours.
With great respect and best regards, your friend John
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