I was thinking about fitting my Italian motorcycle with a small computer in the vein of ρασπβερρυ-π (it does not have to be a lisp machine although it would be nice if it was).
However, I found no use whatsoever for a computer in a motorcycle, aside from serving as a GPS navigator/NSA tracker device (a function handsomely performed by my Apple iPhone 6+ quite already, and iPhone 5S before it). Chatbots do not live up to the expectations I have for a real vehicle artificial intelligence, like that kawaii holographic female person in Nihei's BIOMEGA.
Any ideas about possible functionality of such a computer?
>>4 But I have been sending text messages while riding 150 kph on a highway. True story
>>5 Thank you for the input, but I personally feel the motorcycle maintenance zen book is the bullshittiest book ever.
Name:
Anonymous2014-09-30 11:23
>>1 Italian bikes are for faggots. Everything from Italy is for faggots. Go ahead, stick your faggy auduino on your faggy lamborghini ducato and ride around pretending to be a mobster like the guido faggot you are.
>>5 But the AI might try to reinvent philosophy from a mystic perspective an go insane and start wallowing in it's own shit and burning itself with cigarettes while picking fights with people who don't really care.
It was a hot summer day and I was in my garage calibrating my front brakes. My reinforced brake lines were flexing and girls within a 10 mile radius were getting wet. Once I was done with my daily 32-hour maintenance I called one of the bitches I know, Jessica. She is really damn hot and looks like a supermodel and she rides a black ZZR. SO I got into my Ducati and reved it up to 400,000 RPM (this is an Italian import with special engine system). I got onto the freeway near my house and threw it into 18th gear, I hit about 600000 mph and I could hear the existential spacetime boom as I broke the light speed barrier. As I was flooring it on the freeway like a badass, Jessica called me and said she wanted me to ****[1] her. So be it.
I came to a full stop from 700000 mph in front of her house. These Aprilias have top notch brakes, you know. So she gets out of the house and walks up to my Moto Guzzi MGS and starts eyeballing my full body kangaroo leather racing suit. I could tell she was staring at it because when I looked at her I noticed she was looking at my full body kangaroo leather racing suit. Booya.
Flash forward 10 minutes later. My 30 inch wrench is going inside of her MOTOR, hitting them walls. I'm holding her motorcycle entire body up with my left pinky as I'm testing it and it has 300,000 RPM. She looks me in the eyes and she says harder. V-TEC just kicked in, yo. I blow throttle control so hard her motorcycle falls off my dick. There had to have been about two pints of oil everywhere. People say I oil chains like a peanut butter sandwich, I wouldn't disagree with them.
I throw her a towel so she can clean her motorcycle up then I do a triple backflip onto my MV Augusta and drive home