Casey's Tumblelog

It’s nearly WWDC time, and as such, it’s time for list posts with everyone’s guesses about what’s to come.

What I find most fascinating about Apple is that so often one can pick out where they’re going by listening for the smallest clues in where they’ve been.

Unfortunately, there aren’t many clues.

Thus, there’s three places I’m paying attention, with varying degrees of excitement.

Remote View Controllers

Ole Begemann had a series of blog posts (first one here) last fall regarding a new technology that Apple was using in iOS. While I’m not sure we’ll see full-bore RVC support, I think we’ll see some sort of inter-app communication improvements.

Javascript – Objective-C Bridge

Nigel Brooke posted recently about a Javascript – Objective-C bridge within WebKit. It allows for Javascript to call methods on Objective-C classes, and for Objective-C code to call into Javascript. This could be really powerful for developers of either hybrid systems that leverage UIWebView extensively, or for some cross-platform frameworks. I’m skeptical we’ll see support for this yet.

Haswell CPUs

Apple tends to stick with advancements in Intel’s CPU lineup, and Intel has just officially released their Haswell processor family. It stands to reason that we’ll see a refresh of the Notebook lineup–I think that’s a lock. I’ll even go so far as to say a new flavor of Retina MacBook will be announced.

“Flattened” iOS Look and Feel

There’s been a lot of discussion about the death of skeuomorphism and how Jony Ive is going to take over iOS. This is especially true now with the release of the WWDC app. However, given that Ive took over in late October, I’m skeptical we’ll see the sweeping changes the press is expecting. Further, as some have pointed out, Apple tends to be evolutionary not revolutionary when they’re improving existing products. I think we’ll see a basic refresh, but something that most will find underwhelming.

In short, I don’t know any more than anyone else, and as Marco has pointed out in the past, we’re running out of low-hanging fruit to pluck. There aren’t many things that annoy me about iOS, and things that do Apple isn’t likely to change.

The less we know, the more excited I get, as everything becomes a surprise.

The keynote should be a great show.

This article was written with the hope of appearing in The Magazine, but Dan Moren’s fantastic article beat me to it.

I do not play golf.

I am a prototypical engineer—not terribly athletic, though I did make my fifth grade travel basketball team¹ I do not play golf, but I think I can understand the draw.

From those I’ve spoken to whom do like hitting the little white ball around, one of the things they tell me is that each swing is a new challenge. Each swing is a moment of opportunity. Each swing is a chase… a chase for the perfect swing.

“Crap. I’m so sorry, Dad.”

I’m fifteen years old, and sitting in the driver’s seat of a 1994 Saturn SL2. My father sits next to me. While he has a long list of admirable qualities, patience never made it on the list.

“It’s okay.” He says, summoning restraint that clearly isn’t natural. “Try letting out the clutch slower this time.”

I spent many afternoons–as many as Dad had time for–in his car, making a circle of our western Connecticut neighborhood. I was learning how to drive, but I was also leaning how to operate a manual transmission.

Start. Stop. Stall. Sigh. Start. Stop.

It must have been infuriatingly boring. Doubly so, since I needed to have the radio off, to better hear the four cylinders of fury. (If by “fury” I mean “frailty”.) With the radio on, my success rate was halved.

Start. Stop. Start. Stop.

I was surely taking years off the life of that clutch. But I was also falling in love.

I learned to drive in 1997’s America. At this point we were probably a little less fat, but just as lazy as we are today. During the majority of my life, if not all of it, nearly every car I saw had an automatic transmission. When my friends were learning to drive, precious few of them learned how to drive a stick. Generally speaking, those who learned to drive a stick did so because it was compulsory. Perhaps by parental decree. Perhaps by sheer necessity due to the car or cars they would be driving. But if a friend or classmate was learning to drive a stick, it was because they had to.

For me it was compulsory, but it was also a dream. It was a dream I had nursed for a long time.

“Now I understand.”

It is an absurdly beautiful late October afternoon in 2004. The kind of fall afternoon that restores your faith in the world as you’re nose-diving into winter. I’m thinking to myself about anything, about nothing, as I drive south on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I’m a freshly minted adult now, fresh out of school and two months into my first real job.

The leaves around me have almost all changed, unlike the ones down at the bottom of the mountains, near the interstate, hundreds of feet below. As I pilot my 1991 Nissan 300ZX toward my alma mater, I can almost see the line between the trees who have succumbed to winter, and those which defiantly cling to summer. The trees up here in the mountains are a cacophony of greens, browns, reds, and yellows. Combined with the view of the uniquely Virginian landscape, I’m left breathless.

Though I’ve been in Virginia for four years already, during school, I miss the northeast. Southwest Virginia, where I had just left, is too rural for my tastes. The DC suburbs of northern Virginia are too busy. Suddenly I get it, though: central Virginia is just right. All it took to realize it was a few hour drive at 45 miles per hour in my beloved Z. A few hours of me, my 5-speed, and my music. Three months later, I met my wife. Nine years later, I’m still a proud Virginian. My life was forever changed while I was rowing the gears in my car.

“Holy hell, that really is fast.”

Faster than the blink of an eye—quite literally. That’s how fast it shifted.

It’s 2009, and I’m sitting in my friend’s Volkswagen R32, which is in effect a GTI hatchback cranked to 11. It is one of the earliest regular production cars with a dual-clutch transmissions; these incredible boxes have traditional clutches, but they are computer-operated. The cars have only two pedals, just like a traditional automatic.

My how these dual clutch transmissions can shift. The R32 shifts gears faster than I am capable of even in my wildest fantasies. In fact, to this day, it’s the best point-and-shoot car I’ve ever driven. Point the wheel, mash the throttle, and go.

But I was along for the ride; I didn’t feel like I was driving.

If a car is meant to propel you from point A to point B, a supercar (think Ferrari, Lamborghini, etc.) is meant to do so as quickly as possible. To do so, they need to move the power created in the engine to the wheels. That involves many mechanical bits, but of note to me is the transmission.

In modern times, supercars almost exclusively choose dual-clutch transmissions. These come in various trade names, despite often times being from one of only a handful of gearbox manufacturers. BMW has the DCT. Volkswagen the DSG. Porsche the wonderfully German “Porsche Doppelkupplungsgetriebe” (“Porsche double-clutch gearbox”), abbreviated as PDK.

Dual-clutch transmissions are, to oversimplify, two traditional manual transmissions that have been intertwined. They are stored in one housing and work as a single unit. By having two transmissions in one, the next gear can be queued up and ready to go at all times. Thus, when “shifting”, what’s really happening is one clutch disengages whilst the other simultaneously engages. This makes shifts virtually instantaneous.

These transmissions, as in the R32, operate the clutches using a combination of computers and mechanicals. They have paddles which allow you to request a gear—thus borne the derisive term “flappy paddle gearboxes”. Critically, however, they don’t have clutch pedals. Us humans are too slow, so we’re removed from the equation.

As was aforementioned, supercars tend to like dual-clutch gearboxes. Ferraris, Lamborghinis and the like are purpose-built to consume tarmac as quickly as possible. Dual-clutch boxes are most especially suited for that. It’s arguable that having a human-operated clutch would neuter those cars, if not ruin them.

But would they be as fun?

Which brings us back to golf.

I view driving a traditional manual transmission, with a manually-operated clutch, as my golf swing.

Every time I start from a stop, I’m chasing the perfect swing.

When I take a turn quickly, and rip off a heel-toe rev-matched downshift while braking, I’m chasing the perfect swing.

Every time I start off on a steep hill, I’m chasing the perfect swing.

Every time it’s a new challenge.

Sometimes I’m rewarded with perfection—either a completely smooth start, or perhaps a perfect rev-match combined with smooth brake application and quick release of the clutch—three pedals with two feet. Sometimes I’m rewarded by not seeing my wife’s head bucking back and forth when leaving a red light. That’s often my favorite of all.

No matter what though, every time, I’m chasing the perfect swing.

That’s what makes driving so much fun. Such a privilege. Such a true and absolute joy. I long for a reason to get into my car, take off, and just drive.

The pragmatist and engineer in me knows that the manual transmission is going the way of the dodo. It really makes no sense—it’s arguably a distraction during the extremely dangerous operation of hurtling a several thousand pound weapon down the road at breakneck speeds. Traditional manuals are slow. They’re error-prone. There are no advantages, except perhaps the most important one. So. Much. Fun.

The dual clutch transmission is everything the traditional manual is not. Most importantly, reliable, consistent, and fast. But it’s not as much fun. Not to me.

I believe that all cars, eventually, will use dual clutch transmissions. Certainly all sports cars. We’re almost there now with supercars. Take the BMW M5 for example; it’s widely understood that traditional manuals are only offered due to incessant whining by the press and potential customers.

While I know it’s for the best, and it’s time to let go, it makes me sad. I’ll miss the hunt for the perfect shift. I’ll miss the feeling I get when I launch an all wheel drive car with a quickness, without leaving the drivetrain behind. I’ll miss driving being more than just sitting still.

I’ll miss you, old friend.

Two years ago, in June of 2011, I went to WWDC for the first time.

I have a very basic¹ app in the App Store. I had written it when iOS 4 was in beta, because MFMessageComposeViewController permitted my app to do something that was new at the time: send text messages.

I decided to go to WWDC for a few reasons. Firstly, it seemed fun and interesting. Secondly, I was a novice iOS developer and desperately wanted to scratch that itch. As a bonus, I somehow swindled my then-employer to pay for it. Finally, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Going to WWDC was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

As Marco noted tonight, WWDC is about so much more than just the sessions. The sessions are wonderful; don’t get me wrong. I’ve already raved about them. But it’s about so much more than that.

Perhaps my favorite part of WWDC is the energy I get from it. Being around so many people whom you so deeply respect (too many to name) will do that to you. Both times I’ve left WWDC, I’ve spent the entire cross-county plane ride coding.

There have been many calls to end WWDC, or perhaps to dramatically change it. These arguments are logical, just, and intelligent. Acquiring tickets this year was–on the surface–fair, but it sure didn’t feel that way.

I can’t begin to theorize about ways to make WWDC better. There are a plethora of different and often contradictory desires at play:

• Giving tickets to “the best” attendees
• Giving new developers a fair chance
• Not totally screwing inconvenient time zones
• Making WWDC more accessible
• Not diluting what makes WWDC so awesome

One thing I will say, however, is that ticket or not, I knew I would be there this year. There are too many inspiring, amazing people in one place not to go. If 2013 is the last year of WWDC as we know it, I’ll be sad to miss the sessions. I’ll be sad to miss the access to Apple. But I’ll be most sad to miss having the excuse to get together with my friends–my inspiration.

See you in June.