There’s a thirst for a clear future.
Approximately 71% of the Earth is covered in water. We’ve all heard this at one point in our lives. Although, it’s somewhat difficult to envision during long road trips across the Midwest when there’s no single large body of water for hundreds of water in any direction. That statistic almost becomes a reverse mirage with spokesman Tom Selleck.
Suppose that’s a perceptive battle of geography. Ironic that a sustainable future may be a little battle defined by geography.
There’s been a continued effort–however subdued–in the innovative pursuit of a car that runs on water, man!
(Bonus points for those who know the pop-culture reference)
In the mainstream, Toyota is leading this effort with its Mirai Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle.
Friendly suggestion: Shorten the name so it could actually fit on the aforementioned car’s bumper.
For a cellular breakdown of how Toyota’s water call works, here’s a helpful video.
The tranquil, effortless and dream-like environmentalism aside–well done, Toyota marketing department–the macro solution to some major global pollution problems involving cars looks like it could be rooted in water-based renewable energy.
Obviously, $60,000 isn’t a welcoming price point for the majority of car owners and lessees. Not even close. Having said that, it is a starting point for developing a reasonably priced water fuel car made by a popular–and trusted–mainstream car company in Toyota. Add in the parallel development of accompanying fueling infrastructure throughout the many different parts of the country–suburban, rural and inner city–from coast to coast and maybe Toyota will be able to succeed where Elon Musk and Tesla are experiencing shortcomings as revealed during a recent 60 Minutes segment.
If the Mirai Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle proves to be the future of the American automobile, then the “O” in H2O will be converted into a zero, as in water’s zero-emission solution.
Why do we watch? Despite the fact it’s become a cultural phenomenon to millions of people, why do we, individually, sit on a couch and decidedly press the buttons on the controller that take us to The Discovery Channel for “Shark Week?” To discover something new I suppose.
“Shark Week,” in the literal sense, is a week of documentaries and informative stories about sharks, their habits, dangerously incredible close-ups, new revelations and so forth. In the metaphorical sense, it’s an opportunity over several days to revert back to our instincts of elementary school. What does this mean exactly? Reflecting on our experiences from kindergarten through the fifth grade, one of the constants was our insistence to learn as much about something that peeked our interest as possible. Whether it was sharks, bears, insects, adventures in books, sports, math, Sega Genesis, Nintendo, science, etc., we were hooked. We were not just thirsty for Capri Sun, but also for knowledge.
The amount of information we wanted to absorb was boundless. Do you think I’m wrong? If you have any nephews, nieces, sons or daughters around the preschool to elementary school age, try to compute just how many questions they ask you about anything and everything on a daily basis. Why? Why? Why!?
It’s their nature. It’s instinctive. Nobody tells them at a young age to ask a limitless amount of questions. They just do. Then, during the teenage years of our lives, we transition to a phase when we don’t seek as many answers to questions that are academically related. At some point though, we cycle back around to find the glow of knowledge from our younger days that rejuvenates an inner spark and desire to want to learn about what surrounds us and how everything works.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?
Some of you may be wondering why there were so many questions asked throughout this post? Because if nobody asks questions, how do we discover anything new? How do learn where we come from? How do we know where we are going? Where do great white sharks mate? Do sharks really mistake humans for seals? How do painters dream up their masterpieces? Do aliens exist? Will somebody ever invent a teleportation device? How has there not been a new “Bill & Ted’s” adventure made in more than twenty years?
This week, it’s sharks. What will it be tomorrow? The day after that? Next week?
Did you guess what kind of shark I am?
I swim in the ocean, that’s no surprise,
it’s best to steer clear, just a word to the wise
I’m not a picky eater, it’s one of my traits,
Anything and everything, including some random license plates
The music to my life dates back to the eighties, from that band with Slash,
who had a popular song that’s fitting if we ever do clash
If you decide to go scuba diving in the Caribbean, know that you have been warned,
because, odds are, you will be mourned
Without making any sudden movements or noises, the poem above secretly reveals that I am…
a Tiger Shark!
“Shark Week” conjures up feelings ranging between amazement and paralyzing fear. Truly a cultural spectacle. As it has been mentioned in a previous post (The Two Scariest Words: Dun-Dun), all of mankind (and womankind) can collectively thank the legendary Steven Spielberg for permanently planting the unforgettable soundtrack and classic scenes into our psyche regarding blockbuster entertainment coupled with beach safety.
Actually, given the number of great white sharks near coastlines at popular destinations around the world, a thank you really is in order. Thank you!
One of the annual traditions with “Shark Week” is watching crews for The Discovery Channel push new boundaries, like exploring the present-day existence of Megalodon or the “Rookin'” down in Louisiana. What will be next?
I’m glad you asked.
What fascinates me is not so much what we think of sharks, but what sharks think of us. Within the technological revolution that is currently booted up for generations to come, is there a neuroscientist somewhere who is dreaming up a water-proof device that could be tagged onto a great white shark that somehow measures and sends back its brain activity?
Think about that. More importantly, imagine that.
Before you begin calling mental institutions to reserve me a room (with an ocean view please), watch the clip below and tell me this diver was not interested in a similar endeavor. It’s only unbelievable until you do it.
If we are going to explore a seemingly infinite environment, we must have an equally infinite imagination.