Scams

Wrinkled Weasel has a post on 'grey' internet scams - behaviour by legitimate companies that is borderline immoral but not strictly breaking any rules. This reminded me of an incident here the other day.

I was called by a company calling itself 'Tech My Support' (an odd word-order to start with), who told me they had identified problems with my computer and offering to assist me to clear them. The female caller had a heavy Indian accent, and I was suspicious. Well, more than suspicious. I'm not an expert in the inner workings of the internet, but I am pretty sure that a) it is not possible to scan my computer for corrupted files remotely unless I give someone permission, and b) that if any organisation were able to do this, they would not be ringing me to tell me about it.

I played along, making like I was an old codger without a clue. Yes, I had experienced serious problems with my computer, and thank you so much for calling me. I introduced a couple of red herrings to make sure that they were lying: I got them to confirm that the computer is a Dell laptop (it isn't) and that I was running windows 7 (it isn't). They also told me that there were four computers accessing the internet from this house, which means that they have performed some voodoo magic on the old Dell desktop that hasn't been switched on for three years. I had some fun with them for half an hour or so, and then did the classic trick of saying "back in a minute" and then leaving the phone on the kitchen worktop. They were still on the line even after 10 minutes of that, so I got the dog to bark loudly into the handset and then put the phone down.

The following day, at the same time, they called again. Same lady calling ("Hello, this is Debbeeee") and same 'senior technician' that she put online when I asked her some awkward questions. They swore that they had never called me before, and started on the same script, so I hung up. That night, at the TOMCC pub meet, I mentioned this, and another member had had exactly the same call last month.

The method is quite clever. They ask you to turn your computer on, and then get you to do certain harmless things which 'prove' that the computer is corrupted. In this instance, they got me to look into Event Viewer, which is always full of random errors and warnings. If you have no knowledge of how computers and the internet work, you could well be taken in. Once they have got you convinced that your computer is infected and believing that they are able to fix it remotely, they will try to get you to log into a website which they spell out for you. My guess is that this is where the remote access permission will be given, and the trouble will start.

Be warned.

Recent Visitors

Here are the locations (or, rather, the ISP locations) of some of the most recent visitors to my humble blog:

• Mountain View, California
• Sioux Falls, South Dakota
• Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
• Rochester, New York
• Sevilla and Manises, Spain
• Berlin, Germany
• Tallinn, Estonia
• Aabenraa, Denmark
• Romainville, France
• Frankston, Australia
• Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
• Bat Yam, Israel
  

Not to mention Rochdale, Edinburgh, Oxford, Cambridge, Wilmslow, Bedford, Dublin and Great Malvern.

I am honoured that such a diverse bunch should come and visit this little piece of foolishness. If that's one of you above, you are very welcome here. Please leave a comment and say Hi.

It's a small world.

Interwebful goodness

Every so often, I exclaim to myself, "Now, ain't the internet grand?" There has never been a piece of technology that has been just so damn' useful. The last time, it was getting in touch with someone who had been through a very bad patch, and with whom I had lost touch. I made a stab at finding her on Facebook (normally I avoid it like the plague), and there she was. Within a few minutes, we were chatting again.

I am on the lookout for a second-hand brake caliper for my trail bike. These bikes tend not to be scrapped (when it becomes too much of a drag/expense to keep them roadworthy, they become 'field-bikes' and go on for another 20 years haring round someone's paddock before they die of old age). And so parts for them rarely come onto the market.

I mentioned this on a forum I frequent, and within a couple of hours someone had replied that he might have a spare one lying around. I posted a photo of mine on the forum, just to confirm it was the right one. It is, and to cap it all he lives up the road in Swansea (about 60 miles away, but that is 'up the road' for round here). We have only to agree a price and a manner of delivery or collection, and I will have my new bits.

The pre-internet equivalent would have been a week of phoning round scrap dealers, speaking to monosyllabic men with the social skills of a Rottweiler, and feeling 'done', whatever the final price for the item. And then two times in three it would be either the wrong bit, or damaged, and would have to be returned.

This way, it's all very friendly and civilised, and I may even make a new mate.

Yay for the webs!

Internet friends

Strange thing, the Internet (does it deserve that official-looking capital any longer?). For the first time in human history, it is possible to have as many friends that you have not met, as those you have. It's a while since I was a regular in any pub, with my own place at the bar and my own tankard on a hook above the pumps. And yet there are half a dozen places on the Internet where I have a similar experience - a crowd of like-minded people, exchanging gossip and advice, discussing things that seem important at the time, joshing each other and occasionally falling out. 'My Father's House has many mansions', and my Internet pub has many virtual bars, each with a distinct clientele, where I can go, at my choice, to discuss politics, or motorbikes (a different bar for each, and some for all makes), or anything else that takes my fancy.

And in one or two of those places, I have made what I regard to be good friends - people I like and trust, and yet whom I have never met. One of those was the guy in Denmark who invited me over. The first time I actually spoke to him or saw him in the flesh was at 10 pm, in the dark in the middle of the Danish countryside, after a thousand-mile thrash across Europe. I thought afterwards that this was a bit of a gamble - after all, what if he turns out to be a complete twat? But it all turned out very well - he was a great guy, as was his wife (not a guy, but you know what I mean), and so were all his Danish friends.

Another was a chap I met through a game we both played for a while. We got on so well, we kept on emailing each other, and after a year or so of this I had an invitation to his birthday party on the other side of the country. Again, a long way to go on spec; again, I had a great time and I was very glad I went. Curiously, this chap knows more about the real 'me' that anyone else, apart from my wife and a couple of very old friends that I have known since University. I find it very easy to make acquaintances, but very hard to make real friends, and this guy is one of the real friends, despite my having spoken with him face-to-face for less than a couple of hours.

A third would be a guy I know through a bike forum that we both frequent. He's posted comments here once or twice, and I have come to like his approach to things, and appreciate his intelligence. I've never met him, although I feel I know him as least as well as someone I have a beer with every week or so. When I was considering doing a round-Britain ride, he quickly offered me a meal and a bed for the night when I was passing through his locality, despite the risk that I might be a serial killer or a world-class bore (I am neither, but working on it.)

He had a bad experience this week. He took his bike in for a service, and was given a loan bike by the dealer. The loan bike had a £2000 excess on the insurance. He was going to the post office to post a parcel on the loan bike when a car pulled out in front of him. He only touched the brakes, but the roads were greasy, and the bike went down at about 50 mph. He's got to repair the bike, replace all his protective gear, and then pay for the service on top of all that. And he's torn this and bruised that and scraped the other.

Bummer, as they used to say.

On the positive side, he's flipped the coin (as we all do now and again) and it's come up heads. He's alive, not seriously hurt, and the damage is mainly to his pride and his bank balance. He's got his head screwed on the right way, and he won't be blaming anyone but himself for the accident. He'll put it down to experience, and will be a fractionally better rider as a result.

It's a tricky time of year to be riding. Round here, the leaves have fallen and are wet and slippery on the country roads that I inhabit. The light is getting poor, the sun is low in the sky both early and late, and there is often a lot of spray to make visibility difficult. Riding through Winter is easy, compared to the liminal, transitional state that is Autumn.

I wish him a speedy recovery from his injuries, and I hope he manages to find the two or three grand that it is going to cost him, all in all, without too much pain. If I were the dealer, I think I would let him off the cost of the service, just out of sympathy.

Good luck, mate. I'm thinking about you, even though haven't a clue what you look like, or how old you are.

That's the Internet for you.