One of the missions of our organization is to support basic science and the going is tough. Spending money on scientific projects is satisfying and fairly simple but getting the taxpayers to pay for it is not. So we struggle and complain. Yet acquiring resources for seemingly hopeless projects can be successful as the following example illustrates.
For quite some time I have been longing to became an owner of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. In line of my opening remarks, this is an investment that is difficult to frame as a necessary family purchase. At the very least, it costs as much as a decent car, uses significantly more gas and has as much utility value as your brother's cocaine addiction. For me a Harley is a natural step to a bigger and fancier bike, but the connection is deeper. Somewhat obsolete technology, emphasis on form over content, and trading high rpm's for low-end torque resonate profoundly with the direction in which my life is going at the moment.
So yes, if my wife is a taxpayer in this equation it looks like a hopeless project and frankly, convincing an average citizen to spend a penny on algebraic geometry should be trivial in comparison! Furthermore, for my wife joining the Harley-Davidson family is somewhat comparable to joining the Manson family. In fact, I have have my doubts as well. After all, I have not been to Nam, I do not have tattoos, and I do not own an American flag. Yet I can recite most lines from Big Lebowski so perhaps some residual connection is there.
Gestation
Every great idea is born in a quiet space and it requires some time. For several years I have been frequenting Harley-Daidson dealers and getting inspired. HD dealerships are church-like places filled with beautiful bikes and the smell of fresh paint. You enter them caring your primordial sin of not having one of those bikes and giving some lame excuse for not correcting this error immediately. Yet Harley-Davidson priests are gentle and forgiving and they give you hope that you will mend your ways eventually. So you start thinking and figuring your options - a long and arduous process.
It is really no different then when as a taxpayer you visit Harvard or MIT and you leave with the impression that you might grow a second brain one day or at at the very least your offspring will study there.
Unveiling
Sooner or later your plan has to be laid out in the open. It is a precarious moment because this seedling of an idea can be squashed in an instant. The main objectives are
1. present the plan as a joint idea,
2. create an atmosphere of inevitability around it
3. divert attention from the undesirable aspects of the project.
These are well tested methods of universal value whether you are getting a bike, changing the name of an organization or building a large telescope. This is where most of the projects collapse, but if you survived this part you are on a solid ground. Soldier on!
First contact
It is time for the first visit to the Harley-Davidson family with my wife. She does not know what to expect but a great deal of hostility is just below the surface. We arrive on time and are greeted by the salesman, the guy that I bonded with on several prior occasions. My wife challenges most of his statements and she behaves irreverently. However, the priest of Harley-Davidson is a professional and with the agility of Jackie Chan he evades confrontation. Eventually, the rescue comes in the form of a free Harley-Davidson coffee - a terrible and undrinkable brew that channels her criticism in a safe direction. In comparison, everything else seems better and we start moving forward. My wife stops comparing the place to Home Depot - her most hated shopping destination and when we leave an hour later our wallet is lighter but there is a "hold" sticker on one of the bikes.
This is a crucial phase and there is no recipe for success. A mixture of scientists, taxpayers and politicians is combustible and nothing can be taken for granted.
Closure
The final day has arrived. My wife drops me off at the Harley-Davidson dealership and I am supposed to come back on a new bike. I am a lonely sardine swimming in a shark pool but I do not quite realize it. The key word is "options" and there are tons of them. I am enjoying everything so far, particularly the fact that there is no haggling and in fact nobody told me how much it all is going to cost. I am quickly lured into a service agreement which includes six free bike washes. I have washed my old bike only once and the appeal of this service is boundless. As if this is not revealing enough, my attempts to project an image of a bad-ass biker are squashed when I'm am being congratulated on being the first ever client with a perfect credit score. I briefly toy with the idea of alluding this to my white-collar crime activities but eventually I resign myself to be what a large portion of Harley-Davidson family must be - mid level bureaucrats who like to pretend on weekends that they are somebody else.
Whether this is a new bike or new science the act of sale is always the same and a scientist is no different than a used car dealer. No effort is spared to provide the buyer with a lot of dubious extras, wool is pulled in front of ones eyes many times and utility of acquiring a dismemberment package is explained in a most creative way.
Two hours later I hop on a new bike and head home. The ride is everything that I expected except that it is freezing cold and I have no windshield.
Aftermath
As with every taxpayer funded project that went a bit overboard the day of reckoning is near. Upon confessing that I paid thousands of dollars for six bike washes my wife becomes speechless and manifests quite unusual face discoloration. When she recovers, the errors in my judgment become glaringly apparent in the most explicit manner. I pledge to undo the damage as my membership in my family is being put on hold. In the end I rescind all extras, including parts that were supposed to be installed by the dealer. Harley-Davidson family Is not pleased either, they claw at my careless offerings and it looks like they plan to reject me as well.
Alas in the end all is well. We sign a brand new contract and I get my bike parts. I confidently declare that installing them will be an utmost triviality only to discover at home how foolish these statements were. Luckily I am being rescued by a friend who mastered the zen of motorcycle maintenance.
In the end, the project is a roaring success and the path towards incremental upgrades and modifications is wide open. HD parts catalog resembling a phone directory of a mid-size town rests by my bedside and messes up my sleep patterns.
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