Driving past the bungalow…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the idea of curtains.
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Dr Mult, on her way to the university physics department early every morning, drove past retired Professor Kramp’s bungalow. He was usually to be seen standing in his front garden around that time taking a breath of air and sipping breakfast tea from a large mug. Mult had joined the university staff just as he had retired and they had become acquainted. She would regularly wave to him as she sped past, and he would cheerfully wave back.
Mult wondered if Kramp was losing his edge in old age and decided on a little test to see if his observational skills had declined since leaving academic life. As she drove past and waved she took to sounding her car horn continuously for the time it took her to approach his garden, pass it, and go on down the road; she knew that the Doppler effect would come into play and for Professor Kramp the pitch of the horn would appear to decrease slightly as she swept past. She did this, much to Kramp’s puzzlement, for four days, but on the fifth day, after having a second horn with a slightly higher pitch fitted to her vehicle (knowing the pitch of her existing horn, the speed of her car when passing the garden, and the speed of sound in early morning air, the calculation of pitch difference was a piece of cake) she sounded her old horn as usual as she approached Kramp, but as soon as she was level with him she switched seemlessly over to the new horn. For Kramp it would appear that there was no change of pitch. Mult suspected that the old man would not notice the anomaly.
The day passed… The following morning as she drove to work, (yes, Dr Mult did go in on weekends) she decided not to sound her horn, but to just observe if there would be any reaction from the old chap. He was as usual standing in his garden, but this time without his mug of tea – he had his hands behind his back and was looking toward her as she approached. As the car was getting close Kramp quickly pulled from behind his back a trumpet, put it to his lips and played a long clear A – as Mult passed him he raised the pitch to A# to compensate for the Doppler effect…
Oh, how they inwardly chuckled as they each prepared for their day…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, cool, existentialism, humour, information, observations, physics, puzzle, story, surrealism, thinking, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Driving past the bungalow…

  1. Reblogged this on adriane d clipperton and commented:
    A surrealist friend of the fantastical dull town, Europe, will tell you stories and random quibbets and maybe show you some funny old books and pictures. You will enjoy this if you read it and not quite know why.

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