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I noted early on that I wasn’t the only sketchy-looking vehicle on campus. And the longer I’ve been doing this, the keener my eye has gotten to the subtle, but telltale signs of “unconventional” or otherwise “alternative” living situations: windows tinted a little too deeply, parking just slightly farther away from a building than everyone else, a few scattered blankets on the back seat. It was nothing more than conjecture and supposition until I made contact with another truck-person. Even then though, there were seven or eight cars I was seeing all the time, and they certainly kept me wondering.

What CMS are you using?

What WordPress plugin do I use to make a clock like yours?

You’re using AppEngine right? I can tell by your blog’s IP address.

Brandon, when are you going to nerd out and talk about technical stuff?

Right now, as it turns out. First, a little disclaimer:

This post is more for the technical types. You’ll likely find this post mind-numbingly boring if you don’t have an interest in programming or web development.

Disclaimer: All salaries and bonuses in this post – even those based on real paychecks – are entirely fictional. All financial information is paraphrased…..poorly. The following post was written by a 23-year old man who lives in a truck entirely of his own volition and holds a degree in something wholly-unrelated to both business and finance. As such, its content should not be viewed or seriously considered as advice by anyone.

Note: I’ve never seen Game of Thrones, but I’m pretty sure the title is a reference to it.

When I was a kid, I used to watch my dad plow driveways and parking lots. He’d be out in the middle of a blizzard, wearing a sweatshirt (at most), carving out huge scoops of snow and heaving them over his shoulder. In moments like those, I thought he was a true-to-life superhero. So naturally it’s no shock that I inherited his lust for needless feats of masculinity and macho-ness. As fall turned to winter every year, I’d resist transitioning to a more climate-conscious wardrobe, clinging on to my T-shirts and basketball shorts until it was borderline painful. I chose to “brave” some of the coldest, snowiest winters in Boston history wearing only a UMass hoodie and some well-worn jeans. And even when I wasn’t being unnecessarily obstinate, I still spent four years with a roommate who loved keeping the windows open on frosty nights, and that’s basically like sleeping outside, right? I’m well-aware that these weren’t the smartest decisions, but there is an upshot: I was, without realizing it, conditioning myself for my current situation.

I’d like to start with a eulogy.

We’re gathered here today to mourn the loss of a close friend. His duration in our lives was swift and fleeting, almost ephemeral. His presence was electric, his absence left a hole in my heart, not to mention a deficit in my transportation abilities. Yes, I’m talking about the passing of our beloved friend, my corporate Specialized Turbo.

Before I say anything else, let me just acknowledge that this was entirely my fault. Okay, so remember that awesome electric bike I got through a company pilot program? It turns out that a big stipulation of the program is that the main usage of the bike has to be commuting. Naturally, living on campus, my “commute” doesn’t quite qualify, and so I, with a heavy heart, had to return the bike. In my defense, I was “commuting” to my mailbox (~10 miles away) 3-4 times a week, but that’s still not quite in the spirit of the program.