Zoom and Enhance

If you’ve ever seen a crime-themed film or television show, you have no doubt heard a character–generally a detective or investigator–instruct a lowly technician to “zoom and enhance” some bit of surveillance video.  No matter how distant or grainy the footage, the technician merely turns a few knobs on a console, and, ta da!, perfect high-definition video quality.  It’s ridiculous.  Or so I thought.

Tonight the History Channel is broadcasting a special entitled Stealing Lincoln’s Body.  “Outstanding”, I thought when I saw the listing, since not only is the Rays vs. Red Sox game currently on a rain delay in the ninth inning, but I am a passionate Lincoln fan, and am presently reading David Herbert Donald’s wonderful biography of the greatest of all Americans.  History Channel productions, however, have frequently failed to impress me, commonly employing silly reenactments, and generally lacking the authoritative scholarship associated with PBS efforts.  Stealing Lincoln’s Body has some slightly silly reenactments, sure, but it is much better than average for a History Channel project.  And it has something else that struck me as revolutionary.

Describing Lincoln’s funeral procession through New York City, a famous image of a young Theodore Roosevelt observing Lincoln’s coffin passing beneath his window is shown.  But, like magic, the image appears to come to life, and from the apparent distance at which the photo was taken, the camera zooms in on the two figures in the window, and, lo, there is the boy Roosevelt.  They zoomed and enhanced!  They did it with a couple other historic photos, too, and each time the effect was startling.

I’m sorry I ever doubted you, television detectives.

“Those Dreams Are Dead, and I’m Alive”

The Finished Product On my way home from school or work, I often pick up lunch or dinner.  Next to Larry’s Giant Subs at 13th Street and 16th Avenue, I often see a custom motorized bicycle with ridiculously tall handlebars, banana seat, and multiple baskets.  It reminds me of the glory days of my motorized bicycle, The Green Monster, which I rode daily early last year.

I had learned about motorized bicycles when I stumbled upon an eBay auction for an engine kit.  Since I go to school or work–and usually both–every day, and sometimes make multiple trips, the prospect of shaving several minutes off my commute was appealing.  Moreover, the cold winter mornings and blazing hot summer afternoons are unpleasant on a regular bicycle.  But I rationalized that they would be more tolerable on a motorized bicycle, since I’d move quickly, and, thus, spend less time in the winter cold, and expend little energy, and, thus, get less sweaty in the summer heat.  I bought one of those motor kits on eBay and made my machine using a bicycle given to me by Sarah Jean Russell.  When I began riding my Green Monster, I learned that, indeed, riding fast in the cold beat riding slowly in the cold, and I appreciated that my commute took half the usual time.  But I didn’t get a chance to learn about beating the summer heat:  I only rode my motorized bicycle until mid-April, when concerns for my safety, and annoyance at the myriad problems associated with motorized bicycles ultimately exceeded my passion for speed.

That all came back to me this afternoon when I finally met the owner of the custom motorized bicycle outside Larry’s Giant Subs.  He was an older fellow, and in incredibly profane language he told me how much he loved his bike, but how much trouble he got into with the police, who don’t seem to agree on whether motorized bicycles are motorcycles that require special licenses and registration, or bicycles that don’t.  And he alluded to the fact that his wife took out an insurance policy on him.  I can do without all that.