Today's like yesterday: continuing a canned test that will go on for a couple more days. Today's test is different, though: we're heating the drive actuators for several hours and driving just a couple of meters, in an effort to reflow the lubricant that we believe has congealed. (I dub this the "Martian Jiffy Lube.") We'll try again tomorrow, and if this works, Spirit will be cured.
We're done by about 13:00, but there's another in the series of science lectures at 16:00, so I eagerly stick around for the three hours. When the time comes, it turns out that apparently nobody told the scientists about it, so none shows up.
"There are only, like, five scientists still here," apologizes Daniel Limonadi, who's coordinating these lectures. "And none of them has anything prepared. We'll, uh, reschedule. And next time I'll be sure to tell them about it."
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The unofficial diary of a Mars rover driver, five years delayed
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Oh, the Places You'll Go!
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- Scott Maxwell
- At night, there's a small red light in the sky. On that light lives four hundred pounds of thinking metal sent from Earth. I tell that metal what to do, and it does it.
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