tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85882019965101596582024-03-05T05:45:55.600-08:00Jethro's GarageA displaced Minnesotan country boy living near the Georgia coast
Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-56866436460415237332022-10-01T21:41:00.001-07:002022-10-01T21:45:24.771-07:00Gimme Three Steps- another tale of an eventful evening in my early 20's <p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>One weekday evening after work I was bored. Decided I wanted to go somewhere I hadn't been in awhile. Then I recalled the Rock-A-Bowl! </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Not far from where I was living at the time (early 1990) was an establishment, located at the intersection of Cypress Creek road and North Andrews avenue in north Ft Lauderdale Florida. It was a bowling alley with a lounge, they served basic "bar food" such as burgers and wings. </b></span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">On Saturday nights, after 9pm or so they dimmed the lights and turned on blacklights, lazers and such, and blasted Pink Floyd music. Unlimited bowling for ten bucks or something. Thus the establishment's name. My friends and I used to go there back before we were 21 as we couldn't get in to a lot of the places to see music and such. Affordable entertainment for kids making not much over minimum wage</b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Now by 1990 I was 23, and certainly legal age to drink. And on this particular evening I learned it was dollar draft beer night or something, so I blowdried my mullet (hey, all the guys had one, look in any high school yearbook of that year and get back with me!) and hopped in my noisy, modified VW bug and bang shifted my way over there. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I don't recall what I ordered or ate but I do know I had a couple drafts. And at some point she saw me... a willowy blonde about my age. I don't know who struck up the conversation, but maaan she was putting the major flirt on me! Oh, flipping her hair back, giggling at my humor, lightly touching my arm, brushing her fingers along my open neck of my button up shirt! </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I was glad at that point that I'd decided to do something different that evening. Why I was going to at least get a phone number for sure! </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>At some point she said "I gotta go pee honey, you just stay right here!" </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I spun back around in my high back bar stool (important detail!) and ordered another draft from the bartender, who was a pleasant lady in her 30's. Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and turned...</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I was faced with a somewhat stocky built guy with dark hair and glasses. He poked me in the chest with a finger and said "I think it's time for you to leave!" "Uh, excuse me?" I said. He said louder, while leaning in to my face with his beer breath "I said it's time for you to leave!" I quickly figured that what ever bug was up this seemingly intoxicated dudes ass, he wasn't going to back down.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I stalled... I said "Why do I have to leave? I'm just minding my own business here drinking my beer..." </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>See, I've always been more of a lover than a fighter, and I always feel you negotiate first, then resort if you have to to physical stuff. Now I still didn't know what was going on here but I sure wasn't going to back down and just walk out. I mean, he wasn't management and I hadn't done in my recollection anything to incite this dude! </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> By this time, I had swiveled my high back stool so it was against the lip of the bar. I started to draw my knees up, all while keeping him talking and making eye contact. He had at least 20-30 lbs on me so I had to be quick! My plan was to put one heel on each side of his pelvis with my legs like a jackrabbit, and push back as hard as possible! He would have gone over backwards across the small table behind him (I don't recall if anyone was at that table) and my skinny ass was going to run to the left right out the wide open door of the bar into the bowling alley entry, then out the door to my car! </b></span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">Just then a big guy came over and asked what was going on. Mr "It's time for you to leave" looked at him and said slurringly "DA PROBLEM IS THIS FUGGIN GUY (jabbing his finger in my direction) DOZZIN' KNOW WHEN IT'S TIME TO LEAVE!" big guy (who I figured out was the bouncer) asked the bartender if I had been causing any trouble and of course she said "Nope, he's not any trouble" </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">At that point the bouncer told glasses dude "Come here! Follow me!" and after a few seconds of mumbled arguing he complied.. </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">So once that cleared out, I finally figured out what had gone down. Cutie Ms hairflipper? Yeah, that was his girlfriend. Whom had come in with him. Seems he went off and shot pool, got shitfaced, and was IGNORING HER. So what a better way to get the attention of your boyfriend than to chat up some other dude? I mean what could POSSIBLY go wrong with this? </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">Possibly because some innocent guy like ME was going to get his nose broken with a right hook? I mean if the bouncer hadn't come over I have zero doubt this dude was going to throw hands. </b><b style="font-size: large;"> Or maybe she got off on watching her </b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>boyfriend</b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> kick some guys ass, I don't know!</b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">I saw glasses guy and his pool playing buddy sent out the door by the bouncer. Decided I'd stay a tad longer just to make sure they weren't waiting for me outside the door with a tire iron or something! </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">-And I don't recall ever going in the Rock-A-Bowl again. :) </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">I think the building still stood in the mid 90's when I moved from south Florida, but at some point later the bowling alley was leveled, and a multi deck parking structure built to serve the Tri Rail train station which is there today. </b></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-76275982413660179802020-12-21T18:51:00.000-08:002020-12-21T18:51:39.630-08:00Korea- A Christmas Memory of 1950 - A story from my father<p> KOREA: A CHRISTMAS MEMORY FROM 1950</p><p></p><p>In 1950, the war in Korea had just started. My buddy Bill and I had finished our graduation requirements at the Minnesota School of Business. Neither of us had any immediate employment opportunities, but Bill had two uncles in the Seattle area, and he was sure they would welcome a visit.</p><p>So we pooled our resources, said our goodbyes to our families in Little Falls, MN, and took off for the west in my 1947 Plymouth coupe. We drove nonstop to Bremerton, the home of Bill’s Uncle Joe. A pleasant week or two passed, and money was getting low. Then we saw a notice that the U.S. Merchant Marine was hiring, and we applied.</p><p>Soon thereafter we were on a train ride to San Francisco, where we were assigned to a troopship, the Marine Adder. In a short while 200 crew members, a dozen or so Navy Corpsmen, and 3000 troops were on our way to Japan. It was an eventful trip. No sooner had we passed the Golden Gate than most of the men on the ship were seasick. The Adder, just out of WWII mothballing, broke down north of Hawaii. We spent several days without power (and with overwhelmed plumbing) in the sun and heat. With power finally restored, we got to Japan where the troops were unloaded and the Adder went into more repair.</p><p>After several days in Japan, we returned to Seattle, and spent time for another troop load. In November we sailed again to Japan with another 3000 soldiers.</p><p>We had expected a return to the U.S. Instead we were bound for Korea. The Chinese had entered the war and coalition troops were in retreat.</p><p>In a couple of days we were anchored a few miles off the Korean coast near Inchon. The ship rumor mill informed us that we were waiting to evacuate retreating troops. Also that we were being paid double salary, because we were in the war zone, within easy reach, across the China sea, of the Chinese air force.</p><p>So we waited, hearing little substantial information. Day became night became day. We had anchored about December 15. On Christmas Day 1950, we were still there. A day or so later we were watching the Inchon coast as huge explosions of fuel and ammunition rocked the ship. They were being blown up to prevent the North Korean and Chinese forces from seizing them.</p><p>That night, in darkness, all lights on the ship off, we moved south slowly. After an hour or so, a sailor on watch heard cries from the darkness. The captain had two large lifeboats lowered. Awhile later the boats returned with 40 or so wet and frightened South Koreans, trying to flee the oncoming battle. These included families with small children.</p><p>Cold and bewildered, our new passengers were taken to an inside room. Someone suggested they needed dry clothes. We all went to our cabins and found stuff to give them.</p><p>We sailed south, leaving our Korean refugees in Pusan, on the south end of Korea. Then we were off to Japan to refuel, and home to Seattle.</p><p>In Seattle I was greeted with a draft notice. I had to return to Little Falls, with every prospect of seeing Korea again, this time on land.</p><p>I heard of a program which, if I enlisted in the regular army for three years and could pass a test, would assign me to Army Language School in Monterey, CA.</p><p>I made the choice, I passed the test, and found myself in a line in Monterey, considering my language choices. Korean? (I’d seen Korea recently.) Chinese? (Obviously not.) Czech? A fellow recruit in line behind me said to a friend, “Do you know Czech has twenty-seven cases?”—I had no idea what a case was, but twenty-seven sounded like entirely too many. That left Persian—Farsi—which I learned to speak and write fluently.</p><p>As a student for one year and a worker in the Persian Department for 18 months, I fought the Korean war in Monterey.</p><p>There is a curious addendum to my story of Christmas off the coast of Korea, watching things blow up and refugees rescued. In 2010, when my wife and I were spending Christmas with our daughter’s family in Davidson, NC, we were guests at a party given by a member of the faculty of Davidson College, where Shireen teaches. Another faculty guest was Kyo Koo, a Korean-born teacher. He was accompanied by an older Korean woman and a small child.</p><p>This was his mother, he said, visiting Davidson to help his wife, who had just given birth, and see her grandchildren, like the one she was tending. I was struck by meeting three generations of this family which had apparently survived and prospered after that war, and mentioned that, 60 years before, I had been anchored off the Korean coast. He passed this information on to his mother, who clearly spoke little or no English. She responded with surprise and excitement, and, as he translated, we learned that his mother had then been eight years old and had, with her family, fled Seoul. She remembered having no proper shoes, wearing clumps of grass tied to her feet. She remembered walking down a frozen river. A brother of hers had not survived.</p><p>Some of this, it was clear, her son Kyo had never heard before. In a warm room full of friendly people eating cookies and drinking mulled wine, his mother and I met. We had been maybe thirty miles apart on that very different Christmas, when I was a young man and she was a child.</p><p>It’s now sixty years since I was on that ship. There have been other wars since; there are still refugees. (My instructors at Army Language School were mostly political refugees from Iran.) But if the world is still a dangerous place, and 2020 a tough year for many of us, human kindness and hopefulness endures. As I say, “Khoda Hafez”—goodbye in Persian—I wish you also the best joys of the season.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>- Below is a link to information found on the vessel my dad served on- </p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Marine_Adder_(T-AP-193)">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Marine_Adder_(T-AP-193)</a><br /></p><p>-A black and white picture from an old photo album, taken of the fuel and ammo dumps my dad recalls being blown up-</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GyULSnj8JP97jOgecTY98_FAZeeuWtGDlzSvSd8pE1YFuZW3BewOETHs8HS37PpPrWT-P4ABHMmJN1TZAQGde6ARsplyR2DZ8RHOG3cJf8DOivC86ddrHSgor3ymKfn0vt19khcsbjs/s800/pic2gasoilandammodumpInchonKoreaJan419510001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="800" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GyULSnj8JP97jOgecTY98_FAZeeuWtGDlzSvSd8pE1YFuZW3BewOETHs8HS37PpPrWT-P4ABHMmJN1TZAQGde6ARsplyR2DZ8RHOG3cJf8DOivC86ddrHSgor3ymKfn0vt19khcsbjs/w640-h456/pic2gasoilandammodumpInchonKoreaJan419510001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>-Here are a couple of pictures found on a search for images of the ADDER- in the second photograph which was labled by Google images as "troops departing on the USNS Adder" you can see the vessel name on the life rafts to the left in the image. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypERCyVZmmzCYYblml0uspm8HYn9LBgG9kYbFA0bMiifg-k7qNfRAQRi2vgTDWYj5XDVrd4RKctLT43_X6lHTGYdgvMoLYGnd0Bl9WtyX8apcq6EvZHglv6TPuuKDX1_oRZwx_fVi9XM/s800/pic1USSMaimeAdder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="800" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypERCyVZmmzCYYblml0uspm8HYn9LBgG9kYbFA0bMiifg-k7qNfRAQRi2vgTDWYj5XDVrd4RKctLT43_X6lHTGYdgvMoLYGnd0Bl9WtyX8apcq6EvZHglv6TPuuKDX1_oRZwx_fVi9XM/w640-h442/pic1USSMaimeAdder.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeL3Kj9UB5lVlt7PJ7OzGE-N3Ypvz5qmg4VsKMNfcmlCoTgS24KH9wHvXdkH18uvwciQTKFotfhxepvsbO-Q7_2NZpcB4zbJO4Lq41P1QrBN1BAo7fg3g5MKbnQ2SNXgeRcdpg3KiAI_o/s594/gettyimages-515931232-594x594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="594" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeL3Kj9UB5lVlt7PJ7OzGE-N3Ypvz5qmg4VsKMNfcmlCoTgS24KH9wHvXdkH18uvwciQTKFotfhxepvsbO-Q7_2NZpcB4zbJO4Lq41P1QrBN1BAo7fg3g5MKbnQ2SNXgeRcdpg3KiAI_o/w640-h456/gettyimages-515931232-594x594.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3t9khwCIZEzMLGvbRS6Mr_GfKIbqtGLJo4Mt8DjUY88crfNdVm72jufGW9dyOwODSC-R-wrGjbU-s-rCcvJuKJLm5un7biKyo1lqqnna2oBKlL2wLFF0H3tqM8veBTmFDd116kpLUXg0/s307/th+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="307" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3t9khwCIZEzMLGvbRS6Mr_GfKIbqtGLJo4Mt8DjUY88crfNdVm72jufGW9dyOwODSC-R-wrGjbU-s-rCcvJuKJLm5un7biKyo1lqqnna2oBKlL2wLFF0H3tqM8veBTmFDd116kpLUXg0/w640-h381/th+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Below is a picture of the Adder after being converted to a cargo ship (per Wikapedia, sold to civilian use and converted to a cargo ship in 1968) named Transcolorado-</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNROOl_kwmU_9JVO1B4-X6bMVF4RIiK2J0kf0vd4sJCj02MURM8DaRUC_HT2ov7sjLqRQY51mV_ijPw22nuoq7PrIvQCxCUCd1V4QGABRgaLPbXXJRQ0X2DW7oKEf4Re4UsHzh75MkqsI/s640/as-the-large-harbor-tug-waxahatchie-ytb-814-pushes-against-its-bow-the-cargo-cf2971-640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNROOl_kwmU_9JVO1B4-X6bMVF4RIiK2J0kf0vd4sJCj02MURM8DaRUC_HT2ov7sjLqRQY51mV_ijPw22nuoq7PrIvQCxCUCd1V4QGABRgaLPbXXJRQ0X2DW7oKEf4Re4UsHzh75MkqsI/w640-h428/as-the-large-harbor-tug-waxahatchie-ytb-814-pushes-against-its-bow-the-cargo-cf2971-640.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-52738700832606709562019-08-24T07:20:00.001-07:002019-08-24T07:20:39.874-07:00 A true tale of mistaken identity! Yet another misadventure from my early 20's<span style="font-size: large;">Rain began to spatter the windshield as I headed home. I was on West Atlantic Avenue, just past Powerline road in Pompano Beach Florida. As memory serves it was dark early, must have been December or January of 1987. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just past the strip mall was a stretch of vacant land, a weedy area strewn with broken bottles and old tires- possibly where some houses had been razed in the past. As I approached a city bus bench I saw a lady, head down in to the rapidly oncoming rain scurrying along the deserted sidewalk. I figured she had missed the last bus of the day, and was just trying to get home from work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had come to live in the Ft. Lauderdale Florida metro area a year and a half prior from a small, Midwestern town, where folks help one another out. Thus I pulled to the curb. She hopped in with her oversize handbag. Flashed me a smile in the dim street light. As I pulled from the curb she asked "Are you a cop?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was taken by surprise with this comment! Why anyone would think a skinny, scraggly haired 19 year old guy with some acne driving a well worn 1976 Ford Granada was a "cop" was beyond me. I was simply doing something known as "Minnesota Nice" for a person that looked like they needed a helping hand. Below, a pic of me at 18, wearing my "I'm too cool to smile" pic.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7I-W3zBMDGmHE4l6lyn_YhVRx5hB93VhzSOJr5Kif8VAePnhXQ37MZbExbbh_yxxWol8ECCQZNpAZq7_dcALmNM_amP_DHaTiLu0w83eoq98E941NGIBgWTPDA0iCSGe2xFv3jk-fz60/s1600/IMG_20190823_152539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="353" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7I-W3zBMDGmHE4l6lyn_YhVRx5hB93VhzSOJr5Kif8VAePnhXQ37MZbExbbh_yxxWol8ECCQZNpAZq7_dcALmNM_amP_DHaTiLu0w83eoq98E941NGIBgWTPDA0iCSGe2xFv3jk-fz60/s320/IMG_20190823_152539.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I mentioned to her that I was headed for the turnpike extension, and she said that was fine. Asked if she could bum a smoke ( I gave that up decades ago) and I said "sure" and shook a Marlboro Light out of the pack with my right hand as I steered with the left. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the dim street light I saw she had a pale, tired looking face. Nicotine stained fingers, no makeup. Fingernails chewed to the quick. Messy, shoulder length brown hair. She was dressed in shapeless dark slacks, and a loose fitting pull over top. Kind of pudgy, I would guess mid 30's, which to a 19 year old was "old lady".</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I drove on, "So!" she said "Do ya like to party?" Well, as a red blooded 19 year old American male I said "Hell yeah I like to party!" Of course, "Party" to me meant going out to a gravel pit or a warehouse with a case of beer, and a bunch of other young folks like me. But her definition was something entirely different... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She told me her name but I can't recall it. She then asked "Lookin' for a date?" She was acting really friendly too, leaning in towards me, licking her lips...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, dim witted 19 year old me had not figured out what was going on... Yep, I was being propositioned. By a working girl. A hooker. And I was clueless of this. I believe I said something like how I didn't have a girlfriend at the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, I had zero "street sense". I knew lots of things many city folk did not. How to skin a deer, catch and clean fish, fell trees for firewood, when to plant farm crops. Operate a hay baler, and give worming medication to sheep. </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">EVERYTHING I knew about "Hookers" came from either Hollywood films, where they are always portrayed as beautiful, statuesque women. Leaning against a street lamp in a short skirt, fishnet stockings, spike heels. The other source was when my buddies' Vietnam vet step dad would have a few beers and start talking about "Them whore houses in Saigon!" Which made me think there were actual buildings like a strip mall, with "WHORES" in neon letters! Even though the movie was not out yet, this picture of Julia Roberts is what I thought "hookers" looked like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WOI8_BNo9Uq7Bt-NabUbejJANsx0OYAZGrG_vEfwPxHSrk6sgorhudpgnNm8M3akybuoxtY18G74KUjXlvPm27vHcQHjUsnVVgiGXiPdNU57Hx3wscO-VRR_AtkpZcNxaj9CojphmPU/s1600/Pretty-main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="520" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WOI8_BNo9Uq7Bt-NabUbejJANsx0OYAZGrG_vEfwPxHSrk6sgorhudpgnNm8M3akybuoxtY18G74KUjXlvPm27vHcQHjUsnVVgiGXiPdNU57Hx3wscO-VRR_AtkpZcNxaj9CojphmPU/s320/Pretty-main.jpg" width="229" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">By this point, I had reached the intersection of Atlantic Avenue Extension and Hammondville Rd, the turnpike entrance. As I sat at that light she threw out another line, as she leaned in even closer...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Want some half'n half? Seventy five bucks!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The light became green, I crossed the intersection and pulled in the park and ride lot...put the Granada in park..."half and half?" I said, totally ignorant of the street lingo she threw down... She said "ya know, some head, some sex..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She slid over. Grabbed my crotch through my pants, Pulled up her top with her other hand, then put her nasty, cigarette breath tongue (and what ever else had been in her mouth) in my right ear..."Come on baby, you wanna f**k me? Fifty bucks c'mon!" (This explains the baggy loose clothing...not so much for being sexy, but for ease of client access when peddling sexual acts in cars on the curb) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Noooooooo!" I pushed her off... I in fact did not wish to complete this act with this person!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">AND THAT'S WHEN THE COPS PULLED IN!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blue lights in the window. Spot light drilling in to my rear view mirror. You see, when I crossed that intersection before the turnpike park and ride lot, I came in to the Coconut Creek jurisdiction. And Coconut Creek was a little bit of a "nicer" community. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM boomed the PA in the cop car... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I kept my hands on the window sill! Along my side of the car came a guy in uniform not too many years older than me. Buzz cut. Looked like he bench pressed a stack of anvils each day. One hand on the butt of his gun, the other on a giant flashlight, ready to crack it over my skull!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My "hitchhiker" in the passenger seat had already been removed from the car by his partner on the passenger side. She so nicely had upended the contents of her handbag on my floor, consisting of a glass pipe for smoking cocaine, and other drug paraphernalia. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Minutes later, I was seated on the trunk of my car. My "friend" was in the back seat of the cruiser. She they apparently knew well. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I babbled my true story out. Coconut Creek's finest mulled it over. Looked at each other. Shook their heads in disbelief. My driver's license was handed back. I was told "Get the f**k outa here, and we don't want to see you again!" then the other cop said "There's plenty of free p***y out there, and if there isn't, call an escort service!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I "Got", I think I drove about two miles out of my way from that day on to avoid that entire area! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I never told anyone about this for over thirty years. Why? I really have nothing to be ashamed of. I thought (at the time) that the guy friends of mine would just think I was a loser who couldn't score with chicks, and the girls would think I was a scumbag pervert.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are things in life you just have to learn. My pop never took me out back and said "Son, when you move to the big city, there will be hookers, and when one gets in the car, she's gonna ask if you are a cop." </span> <span style="font-size: large;">She never handed me a pamphlet entitled SO YOU'VE PICKED UP A HOE! There was no Google or "Urban Dictionary" on the not yet invented "Internet" where I could see what the terms and code speak she was using, and what they really meant. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Word may have reached the small town. My retired dad would have been taunted at his civic organization meetings! "HEY I HEAR YOUR BOY CANT EVEN PAY FOR PUSSY har har har!" would be enough for my folks to have to move, and leave no forwarding address! I would have been dis-invited from any class reunions. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Fortunately, none of this happened. I can look back on this and laugh now, partly at how naïve I was at that age, and partly at myself for being worried</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: large;">what people would think. </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">I do owe those two officers, who I did not ask the names of, a debt of gratitude. I think partially they believed me, and partially they didn't want to deal with the pile of paperwork involved in an arrest and towing my car. For I could been branded a sex offender which would dog me my entire life. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Just remember, never let a hooker in the car!</span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-78162770041449802622017-07-07T19:44:00.000-07:002017-07-07T19:44:01.267-07:00Weed wacker frustration.. (Can ya feel it??)<span style="font-size: large;">It's a Friday night. July. South Georgia... it's hot out. We were gone all last weekend visiting family, so the grass in the ditchline is EXTRA tall...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was born into a family that made due with what they had. And about ten years ago, I bought an inexpensive string trimmer (weed eater or what ever ya wanna call it) and I have been flogging the dammed thing ever since. It replaced a Weed Eater brand "Featherlite" which I got free from someone that owed me money and used it until it was totally worn out. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A Ryobi SS30, and I bought it partly because it had the ability to use attachments like the tiller I have. Except like most multi-use things, it does not do any one thing very well! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YH1D6d_Byl9UjGOVw3bnMSCsjWkhdFlgqnZO0W9RhaEtCt1L9OWPa8KweI6RirrLMXq7eLE9x9ICUVJmundbXSxEt7DW5bjyWloXAdGi1XVvcwmDBMHW5fNLmxYMMr_-aVC1VlDvBgc/s1600/s-l1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="1000" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YH1D6d_Byl9UjGOVw3bnMSCsjWkhdFlgqnZO0W9RhaEtCt1L9OWPa8KweI6RirrLMXq7eLE9x9ICUVJmundbXSxEt7DW5bjyWloXAdGi1XVvcwmDBMHW5fNLmxYMMr_-aVC1VlDvBgc/s400/s-l1000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hated this thing from the get go. I am right handed, and when I use it, my right forearm rests against the engine housing so it gets very hot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The line feed hasn't ever worked right, so every ten minutes or so I have to kill it, and loosen the nut on the end to feed the line out manually. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Why haven't I just ditched this piece of shit and gotten a higher end machine like an Echo, Husqvarna or Stihl? Because I keep telling myself it's no big deal... just needs some TLC...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Tonight I was out near dusk, it was still friggin hot and I was covered in sweat, grass clippings and had just stepped in the third fire ant mound...I shut it off AGAIN because the spool would not feed. I got that handled, and the recoil starter quit. Rope wasn't going back in. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I messed with it a bit, then got out the tools. Separated the shaft assembly from the power head, then tried to get at the recoil to find I had to remove the clutch assembly and didn't know how to do that...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Lucky for me, we have a friend that gave me two identical trimmers that quit on him. I had already scavanged parts from one of them, found it would fire but not stay running. I swapped the carburetor from mine to one of his and had it running. Now to put the shaft and trimmer head on this powerhead, and I will have a working (maybe?) trimmer tomorrow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Is this a good thing? NO! I am just delaying the pain! I will still have a spool that won't feed..If I had a reliable trimmer I could do all this in about 40 minutes, it takes an hour or more because I always have to dick with the damn thing! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, being able to tinker with things, and having the "make it work" mentality seems a curse. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps my older brother has it down right. He moved to Arizona many years ago, and has no lawn to mow. How hard is it to maintain some rocks and cactus? He has no idea the joy he has been missing...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That's all I have for now folks. :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-10869752626425907892016-07-31T20:21:00.001-07:002016-08-01T18:33:42.994-07:00Diesel pickup cowboys<span style="font-size: large;">Full disclosure: I drive a diesel truck at my job (which there is a policy about mentioning on social media, so that is all I will say) and it does the job it is intended for. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am also a gearhead of sorts. I have been known to modify vehicles to make them go faster. I have done things to make them louder. Sometimes it worked, some times no so much... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today's lesson is drawn from observation. The major US truck manufacturers are building heavy duty, diesel engine powered trucks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Ford markets their engines as "Powerstroke". GM, "Duramax" and Dodge calls their truck a "Ram" and they use a diesel engine manufactured by Cummins. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have also noted this spurs modification. Many seem to want to modify such pedestrian vehicles to resemble the big rigs on the highway. Giant exhaust stacks and the such. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Such as this! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcPhTWBh-JfQ0gJZI3HcbfkfIvfEjZHWN-0Z2MUYGMOMS-4gywZqhLqE_46ywmzT4f-55jFegfdIXL0tOvJwGtXhPGZdZbtJIjf21ovr5_s6OQkh1ARr0AP5B2MhF3s9Uu16MSlnk8l4/s1600/stackmiddle010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcPhTWBh-JfQ0gJZI3HcbfkfIvfEjZHWN-0Z2MUYGMOMS-4gywZqhLqE_46ywmzT4f-55jFegfdIXL0tOvJwGtXhPGZdZbtJIjf21ovr5_s6OQkh1ARr0AP5B2MhF3s9Uu16MSlnk8l4/s400/stackmiddle010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yep, nobody is going to mistake this for a weenie gasoline powered version...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A few weeks back, my family and I were in my wife's home town area, at a drive up restaurant named Robos. You drive up, get out of your car, walk to the window, and order your food. There are picnic tables to sit at if you want to eat there. It was a Sunday afternoon in July, the place was pretty busy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As my son and I are waiting on our order, a guy pulls up in a white Dodge 4x4, powered by the Cummins engine. I could tell by the large, chrome emblems on the fenders, and the giant CUMMINS decal taking up the entire back window. If that was not sufficient, he had to LEAVE THE ENGINE IDLING while he got out, ordered his food, and had a conversation with someone. Now this would not be so bad, except he had what I assume to be a gutted muffler and about a 5 inch exhaust pipe. BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH the engine idled away. I was not the only one looking disparagingly his direction. No, there was no passenger requiring air conditioning in the cab. This was a guy that simply wanted to scream "Listen to my Cummins!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My son of 9 years old was with me, waiting on our order of great American drive up chow, and said "Dad, why did that guy leave his truck running?" My reply was "Because he is an inconsiderate jerk," Now I have had vehicles that I was afraid to shut off as it would not re start...but this was a shiny, late model truck, and I am sure he could have shut it down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I have a theory as to why it was left running. With a beer gut the size of his, he probably hadn't seen his penis, even fully erect, in years. So what better way to compensate then by leaving his powerful diesel engine run! And when he left? By all means, wind that fucker up in every gear, spewing out a cloud of black smoke! Now I could understand this behavior if he was say 16 years old, but when you are well in to your fifties....</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq5C00eSZGFnmKgjw23VH_9KpYFAO0F9pihyOEyoHCmaR8Xdl3KZm2Iwpd0fiwyXpPvFDUBmuaF51C46YVlDFMIQuONL3it3N51L4G5oGZPRahxyPaGxa49_3hQo3zLiRCyLhfLgCdxM/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq5C00eSZGFnmKgjw23VH_9KpYFAO0F9pihyOEyoHCmaR8Xdl3KZm2Iwpd0fiwyXpPvFDUBmuaF51C46YVlDFMIQuONL3it3N51L4G5oGZPRahxyPaGxa49_3hQo3zLiRCyLhfLgCdxM/s400/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, the diesel guys have to put giant decals on the back windows of their great American trucks to let EVERYONE know that they indeed have a diesel engine in the truck. And what they think of other truck and or engine manufacturers..</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Isn't this classy? I'm pretty sure this guys actual sexual partner does not look like this. And I am pretty sure no lady looks at this and says "Why, I'd love to bend over for a ride in this truck!" </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WefGS2Dp5ksua6sRqMoIdoHhzwVC9UGq4epm8QP_GdWHwij_UrnHSIsWrv6j-BTd2xOj8tcaC0COPEd5M6et43JEu99H89I5fO87otCvdq9bfNNAYdvXnk3l4UdDJa9Slw2LXDPp70/s1600/cummins-window-decal-no-free-rides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WefGS2Dp5ksua6sRqMoIdoHhzwVC9UGq4epm8QP_GdWHwij_UrnHSIsWrv6j-BTd2xOj8tcaC0COPEd5M6et43JEu99H89I5fO87otCvdq9bfNNAYdvXnk3l4UdDJa9Slw2LXDPp70/s400/cummins-window-decal-no-free-rides.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then there's this guy. Yes, perhaps I am making an assumption this is a guy, but who else would put a decal on the tail gate like this? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD7UeF7Hijap7vF1ddHPzvvTYvXQftVYddhLhdiL68glTUBLA5BX5140MuxEO1gnWxhDFnpHivyduWxNjBisyPHj02RkCX75NVbnXcizqi9KjlyepAz25jMOPSpSFFHRqXkMYehldDCE/s1600/Diesel_Truck_What_are_people_thinking-s600x375-23319-580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD7UeF7Hijap7vF1ddHPzvvTYvXQftVYddhLhdiL68glTUBLA5BX5140MuxEO1gnWxhDFnpHivyduWxNjBisyPHj02RkCX75NVbnXcizqi9KjlyepAz25jMOPSpSFFHRqXkMYehldDCE/s320/Diesel_Truck_What_are_people_thinking-s600x375-23319-580.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Yes, we understand you feel your Cummins engine is superior to the Ford "Powerstroke", but why the direct reference to male masturbation and ejaculation on your tail gate? </span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Ford owners can be just as "classy" on the road too. Wouldn't want them to feel left out!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VXWGbEmKW-lxkVITl5QA4Czv1bGao1byzXwmtrpIaQ4rfpOzaUpLOaJenQO_6o7TV6YSzQxacEKQzWCjpbblWR5AHc8JQk4Cyu1C0DUIIRPx7Kdu013mumi2ziVqCG4EjUTCZwUNjog/s1600/dd33ddf991882347f3360478c9b3d3ab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VXWGbEmKW-lxkVITl5QA4Czv1bGao1byzXwmtrpIaQ4rfpOzaUpLOaJenQO_6o7TV6YSzQxacEKQzWCjpbblWR5AHc8JQk4Cyu1C0DUIIRPx7Kdu013mumi2ziVqCG4EjUTCZwUNjog/s400/dd33ddf991882347f3360478c9b3d3ab.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have we sunk to a new level of crude? I guess I shouldn't say "we" as the back windows of my vehicles are bare. Should I feel less masculine as a result? </span></div>
Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-57570083070529179052016-04-02T20:47:00.000-07:002016-04-02T20:47:44.393-07:00Thanking Jack! <span style="font-size: large;">As a young lad growing up, I was lucky in many ways. First off, I was raised by parents who were not "hover parents". Living in a rural area near a 900 acre lake, I had a lot of room to run. I had to earn the things I had, I was not given new things each time I asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As long as I had my chores done (and there were quite a lot) I was pretty much left to my own devices until meal times and evening chore times. I could be halfway across Big Swan lake in the canoe I bought with my own $100 I earned, building forts with my friend Craig using scavenged boards and nails, riding his Honda 50 (later he had a Yamaha 80) or hanging out with my "weekend" friends, the kids that showed up each weekend as the parents owned lake cabins on the lake. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I always was fascinated by anything mechanical. My family moved to the property I grew up at in 1973 when I was six. A house was built, and mostly with hand labor from my dad and a host of others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I watched a man with a Cat D4 of fifties vintage (I have a photo) digging the basement, watched Joe Allen and crew do the cement block work on the basement, and watched the carpenters including Howard Roe and Ernesto Valencia nail the boards. Sometimes, they would leave a nail part way out for me to pound in the rest of the way. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now most of the lumber? It was sawmilled from trees cut down on the property, skidded out of the woods one at a time with a spoke wheeled 1938 John Deere model B tractor dad bought for $100! The logs were loaded by hand (no giant hydraulic claw like in those hokey logging shows on Discovery channel) on the bed of what I think was a 1940's-1950's truck. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But that is a story for another blog post- back to Jack!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Among the weekend residents down the little gravel lakeside road with the cottages was Jack Robinson. I would guess he was in his mid to late 40's, he and his wife were there most weekends from Memorial day to Labor day. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He was always driving a different car. Being the extrovert I was (still am) I asked why he always had a different car- it turned out he was a body and frame man who worked for a large Buick dealer in the Minneapolis area. FYI, to any Minnesotan NOT from the metro area of Minneapolis/St Paul, that is called "Da Cities"!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack would buy wrecked cars, and fix them in his home body shop. He seemed to do a LOT of Buick Regals and Oldsmobile Cutlasses with Landau roofs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack also had a vintage 50's fiberglass boat with a pea green 25 Johnson, a pontoon boat with a similar era motor on it, and a garage full of neat mechanical stuff. I would pepper him with questions. He never once told me to buzz off and leave him alone. He did, however, give me a kick start on what turned in to a career I have spent 30 years at. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One day he gave me a dented, faded outboard motor. It was a "Firestone" 3.6 horse. Yes, the tire company. They would sell outboards in the tire stores at one time. The motors themselves were built by another defunct company, Scott-Atwater, and painted pea green with red Firestone script instead of Scott-Atwater gold with green logos. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's a pic I pulled of the net- mine was a bit more faded.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIvHLS1eZhJxoYGwr01gnoQQ8zwwuCtDGuXdQZ6VyKCwz7qnPUZyQGuegWw15BZkDPqoSgx4GRqRfR16BMEYkjThTb9zs3Owgz5A82epAK-o1W-Jd3e6YG5rwA6KhmBH7-4E4gl8VKS0/s1600/%2524_35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIvHLS1eZhJxoYGwr01gnoQQ8zwwuCtDGuXdQZ6VyKCwz7qnPUZyQGuegWw15BZkDPqoSgx4GRqRfR16BMEYkjThTb9zs3Owgz5A82epAK-o1W-Jd3e6YG5rwA6KhmBH7-4E4gl8VKS0/s1600/%2524_35.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack only told me "It used to run" about ten years earlier. I recall carrying it home, about half a mile! It was maybe 30-40 lbs. I would carry it about 50 feet or so, and have to put it down and catch my breath. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Once home, I plunked it in mom's rain barrel. She used rain water from the roof to catch water for her plants. At least she used to, until some fool contaminated it with oily sludge...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The motor had no rewind starter. I had to wind a rope around a hub and pull. I also found it would not start. Another week waiting on the sight of Jack's car passing our driveway, heading down the lane towards his cottage... Jack told me how to check for spark. It had none. Then I had to learn out how to remove the engine flywheel. well, I did not do it properly! No flywheel puller, I removed the nut on the end of the crankshaft, and gave it a smack with a hammer! Of course I did not understand how hard this is on bearings or how you can bend the end of the crank, but that Firestone was pretty crude anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack told me how to clean and gap the ignition points (use a matchbook!) and I had spark. YES! Soon the Firestone was roaring away, churning up mom's plant water! Well so much for the plants. I still recall moms disgust as she found her water with about a quarter inch of oily goo floating on top. That mill called for something like a 16:1 mix. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well it ran good in the barrel, and I wanted to try it on a boat. I used dad's wheelbarrow to haul it down the lake landing of my grandmas. Down the hill through the hayfield to the little dock. Grandma had a 12 foot aluminum boat down there just waiting for my mill to be clamped to it's transom. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Off I went! About 200 feet. It seems once moving, it got hot and quit. Another visit to Jack explaining the problem. He asked if it was spraying water from the exhaust. Well, no! I learned what a water pump impeller was, and fortunately the old Firestone was pretty tough, and not seriously hurt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack also gave me a tip about a place called Twin City outboard that handled parts for defunct and old motors. This was all pre computer/internet/smart phone days. I had to make a long distance phone call (which I had to OK with mom and dad) and found the part was something like 12 bucks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I mailed the cash in an envelope (yes, things were done this way!) and a week and a half later, I got my little rubber part in the mail. Put it together, and a boating we went! Well, not for long. It still occasionally lost spark, I recall buying yet another motor for parts and then could not bear to part that one and had to try getting it going. I also remember making a crude bracket to attach it on a side mount to my Coleman canoe. It did got pretty well going forward, but would not turn for shit. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also recall one time I could not re start the thing half way across the lake, and forgot the oars! I threw the anchor (metal coffee can full of concrete tied to a rope) out, pulled myself in the boat to it, then repeated the process until in shallow enough water to dive over, and swim it in pulling the bow rope. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At some point dad started letting me use his "modern" '74 model 6 horse Johnson with full gearshift. With a 12 year old me weighing less than 100lbs in a 12 foot flat bottom boat, it got up on plane and scooted me along. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once I had the much more reliable Johnson to use, the Firestone was cast aside in a shed or something, forgotten. The acne and peach fuzz of my later teen years hit, I gained the holy grail of a driver's license, and cars became my focus.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now 35 years later, I have found that though the cottage and garage are still there, Jack is not. Dad says he sold the place years ago. If Jack is still on this earth, I am sure he would be in his 70's. Dad gave the motors I had to a scrap guy when they sold the home place years ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If I could, I would love to go back and thank Jack. Tell him about all the big diesels in boats I work on and how I have gotten to travel all over the place to do it. Tell him how I rebuilt my first car engine on a dining room table in my first apartment. Show him pictures of the gutted hull with plants growing in it I resurrected in my back yard and how it is now a great family boat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jack, I am doubtful you will ever see or read this, but I raise a toast to you (now that I am old enough to legally do so) for the help and inspiration you gave me! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do any of you readers have someone you wish you could thank from your past? </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-20855822716882680282015-09-21T19:39:00.000-07:002015-09-21T19:39:30.450-07:00The tale of the fart pants- and how I cleared out a K mart!<span style="font-size: large;"> Back in 2003 the wife and I were up at her mom's for the Thanksgiving holiday. This was the pre child era, where we could just go and do stuff like eat and shop on a Saturday afternoon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We decided on Mexican, a place called Little Mexico in a local strip mall. The food's always good there. I am pretty sure I had the Guadalajara Cheese Steak.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Off we went to do some Christmas shopping. We went to the local K mart after finishing the meal and squaring up with the server. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While in an aisle that had the glass case for the video games, I felt a stirring down below...I was getting rather uncomfortable! She just kept on talking about something and I was TRYING to act interested and all the while deal with the gurgling, churning pressure that was building and expanding....FINALLY my sweet lady said she was going to pop over an aisle to look at something there...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was my cue! I quickly went all the way down to the OTHER end of the aisle we were on, and let my flatulence go.....oh it felt sooooo much better! I then saw my sweetie coming back over and HEADING RIGHT FOR ME!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh no.... we had not been married nearly long enough for me to subject her to this. I quickly moved to make the interception.. she started to tell me what she had found when suddenly, her expression turned horribly sour! </span> NOT MY WIFE BELOW!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxKRxCZ-O6s15WTuEvwCw9rH_gMlyshzHh-GgHqqD6V1guWMu_XaXzU6nNisTjlRDyS4fxKtJa389CR3chfIxi2CnMbwlyrj-KjSacHdMhLoAiLSMk1zj3dq1SJekMxcNG0qFI_0cMHw/s1600/IMG_0734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxKRxCZ-O6s15WTuEvwCw9rH_gMlyshzHh-GgHqqD6V1guWMu_XaXzU6nNisTjlRDyS4fxKtJa389CR3chfIxi2CnMbwlyrj-KjSacHdMhLoAiLSMk1zj3dq1SJekMxcNG0qFI_0cMHw/s320/IMG_0734.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She said "you!.....NASTY!!" And I was trying to explain how I went clear down to the other end of the aisle to do this....but the voluminous folds of my loose fitting Ralph Lauren jeans (which by the way SHE bought me so there it's her fault!) held warm pockets of the "fragrance" so rather than just being discharged at the other end of the aisle, I was sort of letting little puffs of poo air out with each stride.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just then a group of teens popped in from another aisle to look at gaming systems..that did not last long! One of the teen boys said "Oh my GOD it stinks here!!" and they cleared out..at which point I busted out laughing which of course made me blow out what ever gas I had left in me. I was laughing so hard I could not tell if the tears coming from my eyes were from the laughter or the gas!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually, I caught up with my poor suffering spouse over by the check out, where even she had to admit it was pretty funny driving a gaggle of teens away from the game display.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From that day forward, those jeans became known as my "fart pants" until they were retired from the "nice" drawer to the "work around the yard" drawer and eventually were so holed and thread bare they were discarded a couple years back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Years later, K mart closed that store down. I will always wonder if it was because of me! </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-43367466748742547332015-06-07T19:20:00.000-07:002015-06-07T19:20:55.003-07:00The John Deere MT tractor abandoned on the island<span style="font-size: large;">A few weeks back on a Sunday afternoon we took a cruise in our 1969 Glasspar boat... now we had been to this part of the Skidaway river east of Savannah many times, but it was a low tide (we have a large tide swing in coastal Georgia) and my eye fell upon some submerged pilings.... </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh4SMm0hVyqljBlFqDaJvTmLEvnafGlbCut2RFcj37UVJB5zBCaC4RGnAfyBV4MoYOE0RbRenJDUEMrj9vSbeuuonk4mXBWZ2UMLhGJYn2Vkblzf0Sh7UnrzcJB2MWqKmyPM0kwH1-yI/s1600/20150517_153212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh4SMm0hVyqljBlFqDaJvTmLEvnafGlbCut2RFcj37UVJB5zBCaC4RGnAfyBV4MoYOE0RbRenJDUEMrj9vSbeuuonk4mXBWZ2UMLhGJYn2Vkblzf0Sh7UnrzcJB2MWqKmyPM0kwH1-yI/s640/20150517_153212.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I looked and saw the thing that grabbed my attention most...the un mistakable shape of an old tractor! Look just to the right of center on this pic, behind the first bark less large tree. I was only looking at the rotting pilings that normally can't be seen except at low tide, and wondering why a dock would have been on this low lying island when I spotted it. Now I know, so a barge could transport things like this tractor on and off island. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The tide was very low, and the muck at low tide is like stinking quick sand. Having plans of pulling up on a somewhat firmer beach to play with the kids and the dog, I noted where the tractor was, and made plans to return when I had my actual camera and not my phone camera for a closer inspection. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few weeks later we had a few hours time and the tide was high at 11am on a Sunday. I spied the prize, and nosed the boat up staying somewhat to the south of the center, avoiding contact as I knew those rotting pilings were lurking just below surface level to gash a hole in our hull if hit hard. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once ashore, I took little time figuring out what it was. Partly due to my knowledge of post war John Deere tractors. It was a model "MT" standing for a model "M" with the "tricycle" front end arrangement. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> -With an attached disc harrow implement. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgMdQEfh9QL_KX6eo0qN0iymkjLpEEMH2XiGNv1mgC01iP9yFcv9AqoEasXpwzLN44JR3up0ZSxsytJucZMJ-Qqt791a3VCdlqibJHtdj3mo-JlSrAP087Wb_S73EUa1UX13vIzuhzxE/s1600/IMG_1628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgMdQEfh9QL_KX6eo0qN0iymkjLpEEMH2XiGNv1mgC01iP9yFcv9AqoEasXpwzLN44JR3up0ZSxsytJucZMJ-Qqt791a3VCdlqibJHtdj3mo-JlSrAP087Wb_S73EUa1UX13vIzuhzxE/s640/IMG_1628.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And missing the cylinder head. I suspect the hood and much of the light gauge sheet metal disintegrated long ago. A "Two Banger" of upright design. A little research found me tractordata.com, revealing that it was a 100 cubic inch mill, with a 4" bore and stroke, around 20 horsepower. </span><br />
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You can see the remains of inner tubes, this machine had rubber front tires but the rear was on steel.<br />
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A casting number on the transmission case- the serial tag is long gone, I could see where the rivets used to be. Look up and to the left on this pic, you will see a rectangular place with a rivet where it used to be.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is a pic I pulled from the web of a somewhat more intact tractor of the same model-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here is a short youtube video I made-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hard to believe I have lived and boated here for 19 years and never seen this! After making the video and going over the county GIS system mapping, I discovered this tract of acreage belongs to none other than the Univeristy of Georgia. Now, to see if I can find out when it went from private hands to the state! I love these mysteries.</span></div>
Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-70291259308600383102015-02-06T20:32:00.000-08:002015-02-08T06:20:36.792-08:00Ressurection of a 1969 Ski Doo snowmobile- "Noisy" and some Appalachain vintage snowmobiling..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's been far, far too long since I have put anything in print. I thought it time to update! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back during the 2009 "tractor rescue trip" post, I pictured a couple old Ski Doo snowmobiles I picked up from my friend Ron "Goose" Thomsen while in Minnesota. Since then, Ron has turned his hobby in to a business selling and reproducing parts for vintage Ski Doo snowmobiles. Shameless plug- <a href="http://www.reproductionvintageparts.com/">www.reproductionvintageparts.com</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back to the subject! One of the machines was a '69 Olympique 320. The more deluxe of Ski Doo's single cylinder offerings for that year, it had a pop-up hideaway headlight, and a wrap around chrome bumper and rear grab handle. Now I knew for the $100 I handed Ron that I had a diamond in the rough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The machine on the right is a 1968 Olympique, that was thrown in free (engineless) and a useable hood and handlebars plucked for two twenties. The 69 is on the left.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The 69's seat cover had been destroyed by the sun, and the rain soaked in the moisture, which rotted the plywood base and rusted the top of the track tunnel (sheet metal body to you non sledders out there) paper thin. It's rubber drive track wasn't in great shape, at least one of the internal steel rods was broken, and half the cogs on the left rear of the track idler sprocket were missing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The gas tank on these is "built in" as part of the front of the machine, and it had some foul smelling varnish that may have been gas in about 1980 or so. The 318cc single cylinder Rotax engine turned over with what felt to be good compression, and the carburetor had been covered with a plastic bag. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The sled sat a year or so in Virginia at the inlaw's. The 68 machine was resurrected first, with a period correct Rotax 247 I had from a '67 Ski Doo I parted as a teenager, the engine stored in a friend's shed in MN all these years. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming home summer 2010</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the summer of 2010, the 69 came where we live in snowless Savannah to get a little TLC. However, I had other things going on and never got to it. They had a good snow in January of 2011 up at the inlaws, so despite the fact I had done absolutely nothing to the machine since it was pulled from the pine trees in MN, I spent a long Thursday evening after work, I cleaned the ignition points, cleaned the carburetor, rigged up working throttle and brake cables, and I got 'er running. I just used a 5 quart oil jug as a temporary gas tank tucked in between the hood and running board on the left side. A wire clipped to the ground on the wiring harness for a "kill" switch. Note that it has no ignition switch or key- more on that later!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the truck and off we went on a Friday night, oh the kids and wife came too. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I had done ONE step along the way in the fix up- I made a new seat. A couple inches thicker than the original, and not made of the nice, pleated factory reproduction material Goose makes his from, but comfy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em> </em>Enough of the original wood was there for a pattern, and I added a couple inches to the original foam. I have not yet tried to use a sewing machine, and just fold and staple. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyhow...back to the trip! We got safely to the wife's mom and hubby Chris's at about 2am. There was about 10-12" of snow on the ground. It fell on Wednesday night, but where they are (Wise county, VA) they get snow but it rarely sticks around as they are far enough south they don't stay that cold for long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next AM I got up after too little sleep with a caffeine hang over (ugg!) and with Chris' help, got the yellow machine unloaded. A tad hard to start with no recoil starter on it (needed parts I did not have) we used a knotted rope wound around the emergency starting hub, which is a small diameter and harder to pull. After priming it with a squirt of gas she popped to life. A quick blast up and down the hard packed snow covered drive showed she had a lot more "jam" than my '71 12 horse Ski Doo Elan (another story in itself) 4 year old Cam and 6 year Old Chloe as well as my wife got rides around the yard and up and down the drive. The Oly was much more comfortable for two person riding, the Elan is shorter and really not made for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once again machines were loaded up- we put 'em in the back of Chris' 2500 Chevy and we drove south down to Kristy's Aunt Debi's place, in Lee county. She lives down a narrow, unpaved road wayyyyyy back in the hills, beautiful country in an area called the Klondikes locally. We drove past her place about 1/4 mile to where the state maintanence on the road stops, and unloaded. From there the road is narrow and used by folks with horses, 4x4's and ATV's, the road winds it's way to the top of the mountain where a load out area is from logging in years past. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris on the 71 Elan</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BRAAPPP!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debi left, Chris right. The Olympique ran off a jug in the left running board, and I carried a gallon on the right. The five gallon jug on the ground was for refueling.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the pond</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near the top<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a blast! We rode all the way to the top and back. There was a pond down at the bottom as seen in this pic. The Oly was hard to start, so once running I never shut it down. Chris hit a rock on the Elan, got a tad airborne and came off the seat knee first in to another rock... On the way back, we met some folk in an old shortbed 4x4 Chevy and a side by side ATV who were thought the sleds were pretty cool, having not seen them before. But I guess not cool enough to offer up any of the beer they had on them...we got back to where we unloaded and Debi had driven down to where we unloaded. She got on back of the sled with me, and we rode back down to the pond and back again. I was about out of fuel, and lost about half a gallon from it sloshing out the holes where I poked the plastic gas tank lines in on my jug. At one point the oly started to backfire out the carb but I never let off... just hoped it didn't catch my coveralls on fire! Once we got back to the truck and I killed it, she would not re start. Pulled the plug and the spark was weak. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">NOW.......back in Savannah and a month later, I pulled the engine, pressure washed everything, and then took it apart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The aluminum skid plate on the belly looked like a factory accessory- until I took it off!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't....but you have to appreciate the backwoods ingenuity. The front two mounting holes I discovered were drilled through the nose of the built in gas tank, they had just sealed them with gobs of RTV silicone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The machine had taken a hit, probably a fence post or something to the left front viewed from the handlebars. Nothing I could not bang out and luckily the chrome bumper wasn't twisted, but enough to wrinkle things to where if a person was trying to do a "restoration" it would be hard to get straight. But my goal was a decent looking machine that I am not afraid to ride on old mountain logging roads, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This sprocket was missing a few teeth before it's mountain ride. It came back with none!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A couple shots showing removal of the drive sprockets and chain case. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once the chassis, tub, tunnel, frame, what ever you want to call it was stripped bare, I got out a wire wheel on a grinder and assessed the rust. Under the seat was pretty thin. I had tried draining the gas tank, and sloshing gas and paint thinners about in there, but realized the only way to get it clean was to cut it open and scrape it out. I have a friend with a Plasma cutter- made quick work of it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yech! No way this was going to get flushed out. No regrets about cutting this open. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1rRMNXDLWpUW9_3REqiiTroEVsVesgqIgmbDami5FbaJ2IOtU3rUF1IPf5c18EC60qS42wUNooH6SmktZxyMuFmuzMdOVgUvFcUCp5I9tBFQX6drAopPlvYWnKJpLmjs4aJNSCkJ3ek/s1600/69+Ski+Doo+tank+and+rust+work+pics+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1rRMNXDLWpUW9_3REqiiTroEVsVesgqIgmbDami5FbaJ2IOtU3rUF1IPf5c18EC60qS42wUNooH6SmktZxyMuFmuzMdOVgUvFcUCp5I9tBFQX6drAopPlvYWnKJpLmjs4aJNSCkJ3ek/s1600/69+Ski+Doo+tank+and+rust+work+pics+016.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">In this second pic, you can see the line where the liquid level was. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I cleaned it all out, first pic- then welded a plate over it, had to use solder to seal the pin holes in my welds as it was VERY hard to weld with my MIG even on a low setting. Then I pressure tested it to 2 psi and it held for days. Since it has held clean fuel with no problem. Had I not cleaned it out, I would be going through one fuel filter after another if it did not plug the suction tube first!</span><br />
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Welded it shut<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="goog_370945195"></span><span id="goog_370945196"></span>Then I welded plate over the section cut out under the seat-</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24q7GrSt5Os_V1ySWt3ktKDESfq80ru-iyyiPbR_dp-WOoRY6XI0bPiMYrALRZ5dEnTX2TfwBYsRtivebiQJkkpRwgVe8K_MzH4eYecTGnIs_zbcIhEBkhBtA2Buwct5-srsqP1jgYrg/s1600/69OlytunneltopGPradiator013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24q7GrSt5Os_V1ySWt3ktKDESfq80ru-iyyiPbR_dp-WOoRY6XI0bPiMYrALRZ5dEnTX2TfwBYsRtivebiQJkkpRwgVe8K_MzH4eYecTGnIs_zbcIhEBkhBtA2Buwct5-srsqP1jgYrg/s1600/69OlytunneltopGPradiator013.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I did some bodywork- didn't go crazy trying to get all the dents from the belly out as I will just put in more...took a wire wheel on a grinder and took all the loose rust off. Treated the rust with "Ospho" as I did on the utility trailer project, then a coat of primer or two, and I had the original yellow matched at the local NAPA- it is very close to their code MSU35A- in a single stage "Crossfire" enamel. Also note in the first picture- I drilled new holes and moved the mounting for the front set of bogies (track support wheels/suspension) "up" an inch. One of the worst qualities of these old Ski Doos is they don't turn in low snow condtions worth a shit...if you move the wheels up, it allows the skis to bite better. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The hood had about a million spider cracks in the 45 plus year old gel coat. I had to spend hours grinding them open with a vee bit on an air grinder, then filling them with flexible filler. I used a product called "Tec Flow" but won't again. I used Evercoat brand filler on the Elan project which had an equally bad hood, and none to date have come back out. The Oly hood has had several reappear as I write this two years after project finishing... the Tec Flow does not handle the flexing and vibration as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Below is a pic of the "dashboard" area of the hood. There were 1972 and 1975 Montana registration decals on the hood, this machine has traveled a long way since it was manufactured in the summer of 1968 in Valcourt, Quebec! I felt it would be a shame to grind this off and paint over it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I painted the small parts, most of which I sandblasted in the cabinet at work. I used black Rust-Oleum sprayed with a small touch up gun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next, I moved to the engine. I probably did not need to tear it down, but in 45 minutes I had it all apart. The bearings, piston rings and cylinder wall were like NEW. I used new seals and gaskets and put it back together. The loss of spark I had the prior year was a combination of things- the spark plug wire had a lot of corrosion where it screwed in to the coil, there were small heat cracks in the outside of the coil as well. I probably did not NEED to replace it, but Goose had new old stock Bosch coils, points and a condensor as well as new solid core wire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had installed new reproduction plastic drive sprockets and idler (rear) sprockets on the drive and idler shafts, cleaned up the bogie assemblies, verified all the bearings rolled nicely with new grease, and reassembled with a used but decent track I got off EBAY for $40 plus shipping.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFdQ_VTF43owoyd6Tdmr4L-vhJbVE1D8dz1KfYqD65U45NPcvfT3rscSqhASTH_PSXUXsiofErgH_3UazH4DdIj0eDfeYbrOliuKC-vddprMV2Gm5Yu41zDzKJ6eEdHkNvZ6YwzDSn4/s1600/olypartspics001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFdQ_VTF43owoyd6Tdmr4L-vhJbVE1D8dz1KfYqD65U45NPcvfT3rscSqhASTH_PSXUXsiofErgH_3UazH4DdIj0eDfeYbrOliuKC-vddprMV2Gm5Yu41zDzKJ6eEdHkNvZ6YwzDSn4/s1600/olypartspics001.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Odd as it seems, orange IS the original color of that secondary clutch...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I put it all together-</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuSBl5dx0423yd8XA-pAdEvvE9w4b61rnztfVO2UtwmQ4IzT3yZj9D0IKxNcaRByvvfSZd2ZGHddAEuMvbGMadKHqbpN5n98v7Z2x-GR4G962QWLSjdjPq-6hT9YF1X87JJ0xvPcOGAA/s1600/Olytogether003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuSBl5dx0423yd8XA-pAdEvvE9w4b61rnztfVO2UtwmQ4IzT3yZj9D0IKxNcaRByvvfSZd2ZGHddAEuMvbGMadKHqbpN5n98v7Z2x-GR4G962QWLSjdjPq-6hT9YF1X87JJ0xvPcOGAA/s1600/Olytogether003.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">See the exhaust I fabbed- my OE muffler had been patched once before, and I wanted to try this- so I got the smallest glasspack muffler sold by Summit racing, and welded a 45* elbow to it, then some flex pipe with a reducer to the head pipe off the original muffler. May as well be a straight pipe, I can assure you! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW0Vd6nCHN3yE4Ux6dGot4rgZL7-XA6Um9u1YobHS_u63O_IqNJHkgn9ymN3_vUhBdml0fzkaeN0Hj50AfowOd-3hN4kiBbWP6tZ6Ek-MSdBTKbhJKQWEI0htrG3WCwzZJjcG8rqtYjY/s1600/Olytogether004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijW0Vd6nCHN3yE4Ux6dGot4rgZL7-XA6Um9u1YobHS_u63O_IqNJHkgn9ymN3_vUhBdml0fzkaeN0Hj50AfowOd-3hN4kiBbWP6tZ6Ek-MSdBTKbhJKQWEI0htrG3WCwzZJjcG8rqtYjY/s1600/Olytogether004.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Below- on grass testing. Except my front yard lawn is about 50x50, so all you can do is a slow oval.. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NGGc5CwSU6mwkpSkLi5QCnCJrXMywtRo6ki72ur_owZ65zUYTK2ifcyFc5pGapLRA0x9p4qhmlhcDjTlkIwQ31ea-aA92jgtzk4nJJTRQzv5zccqZWSVRPhR0TpymXzsHrRIsbBHch8/s1600/Ongrass1-14-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NGGc5CwSU6mwkpSkLi5QCnCJrXMywtRo6ki72ur_owZ65zUYTK2ifcyFc5pGapLRA0x9p4qhmlhcDjTlkIwQ31ea-aA92jgtzk4nJJTRQzv5zccqZWSVRPhR0TpymXzsHrRIsbBHch8/s1600/Ongrass1-14-12.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I put the hood all together, the hinge and mechanism for the pop up headlight took a fair amount of adjustment to get just right. I bought reproduction decals for the faux wood grain of the dash portion, and the "Ski Doo" emblems for the sides of the black stripe around the hood. I painted that stripe on, the factory used a decal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The "trunk" or backrest as I call it, is an original piece I got from a guy selling some parts when I was on another Minnesota trip- it's the part I used to match the rest of the paint to, and it had the correct decals on it to boot. Making the cushion for it was tough, I had to cut the wood about three times to get it to open and close right. And because I made the seat thicker than original, I had to make the pad of the back rest shorter so it would still open. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway- in January of '13 they got a good dump of snow in south west VA, and away we went- here are some shots on the snow!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuPXS6mbiSG9eiDE_bvWEj6f_KYQMuVsIR9-6HO0uaYol6tfrJpJCzhjQFKnytsZNl5-EYmsipj6WBx9LyuaQE0_g0X5osBsAqvg4YTzcqd8unew67zSCYCIqfmubbpDh5su0g7bfclA/s1600/IMG_0150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuPXS6mbiSG9eiDE_bvWEj6f_KYQMuVsIR9-6HO0uaYol6tfrJpJCzhjQFKnytsZNl5-EYmsipj6WBx9LyuaQE0_g0X5osBsAqvg4YTzcqd8unew67zSCYCIqfmubbpDh5su0g7bfclA/s1600/IMG_0150.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Note below the ignition key and switch....when I got this machine, I had a switch but no key. On the same trip where I picked up the two Ski Doos in 2009, I stopped by the home of an old high school friend who ended up with my first machine, a 1970 12 horse Ski Doo some time around 1984. The machine had gotten scrapped eventually, but a chunk of the hood was in a scrap pile. That part had the key switch with a broken off key in it. I was able to get a new key made from that, so in a way, the key switch from my first Ski Doo I got in 1980 at age 13 lives on 25 years later. There is always one part to salvage folks!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1mcyqcz4uOIaluNcozKmpJ0dAF1OY-pAT2Qq5nUGMZzYc3DEODy1F-9jfuuc4QClPSeEY-y1BPVfF-H2-BaTlqfcySoNJijfGjmL57s0zcmpwEONir45He_7Avs_5k79zkVT_xUJ6ElE/s1600/IMG_0151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1mcyqcz4uOIaluNcozKmpJ0dAF1OY-pAT2Qq5nUGMZzYc3DEODy1F-9jfuuc4QClPSeEY-y1BPVfF-H2-BaTlqfcySoNJijfGjmL57s0zcmpwEONir45He_7Avs_5k79zkVT_xUJ6ElE/s1600/IMG_0151.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first couple shots were taken in Chris and Cathy's yard, the last one and the next few just a couple miles away, on "High Knob" where there are forestry roads we took them on. What a day! Yeah, the snow was melting fast especially in the sun on the southern exposures, but man we used up a tank it each the Oly and the Elan. Both of them ran great all day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> - There's the elevation we started out at. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">More pics! The views were fantastic. :)</span><br />
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Chris on the '71 Elan. <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"> </span><br />
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Overlooking the town of Norton, Virginia<br />
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Above- me wearing an early 1970's era accessory helmet</div>
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At left, a natural gas well on the mountain.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Warm enough to ride bare handed..I like the way the smoked cut down windshield looks, and I polished the aluminum plate the headlight lever rides in. I also spent a lot of time sanding the rough cast aluminum engine cooling housing down and polishing it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can see how there was more snow on the north facing sides of the mountain. The second pic is where I put the cam on a stump and used the timer to get us both in the shot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We rode until it was time to go home. By the time we got down the mountain to where we had parked, a lot of snow had melted off. Here are a couple vids of the fun- that is if I can get the youtube links to work...</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/qLtBzzw-1Gc/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qLtBzzw-1Gc?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gesoUETf09Q/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gesoUETf09Q?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it appears they work! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope y'all enjoyed this rather long winded tale. May your snow be deep and your gas lines free of ice. :) </span></td></tr>
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Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-36393599791449775122014-05-27T19:37:00.000-07:002014-05-28T09:35:12.757-07:00Misadventures of my early twenties....how I met the wrong girl!<span style="font-size: large;">The year was 1987. This band Whitesnake was tearin' up the airwaves. "The Cosby Show" was getting big sitcom ratings, and "Married With Children" introduced us to the Bundy family. Big hair and spandex were everyday fashion statements. Ronald Reagan was in his third year of his last term, and I was mid way through my 20th year on this planet and living in the Ft. Lauderdale FL area. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had my first real apartment, shared with a room mate chosen not so much as he was a great friend but by mutual circumstance, we both needed a place and each had half the money to get in the door. Wasn't a great place, a 20 or so unit two story concrete building circa early 1960's. We had a two bedroom corner unit downstairs with a view of four lane Powerline Road, just south of Oakland Park Boulevard. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The manager lived right up stairs, a heavy drinker whom I suspect was on some sort of disability and had the management job for the free rent and minimal upkeep. More than once he hit me up for a buck for the Seven-11 store across the road, where he could get a tall boy or sometimes a quart of cheap beer at 10 in the morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I worked as a helper in a shop that did mobile marine diesel repair and was learning the ropes of the trade. I think I made about 7.50 or 8 bucks an hour, twice minimum wage of the day but still not all that great. It kept me in baloney and Ramen noodles, and the 7-11 had .99 microwave burritos that weren't half bad. . </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My hobby and main transportation was a '71 VW beetle done up "Baja" style. Each weekend found me trying some new carburetor combination (swap meet finds of course) or new used tires from the used tire shop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But this tale is not about the car or the pad, though they played a part in it. It's about a girl.....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Names have been changed, and let's face it, some details have gone fuzzy after 27 years!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I had a group of friends. Many still lived "at home" or such. We would at times gather at the workplace of my friend "Robert" He worked his dad's business, where they installed business telephone systems. Robert's job was managing the small warehouse, where the components were stocked for installations. Having a key to the place, many of us would gather there at nights, as most were under age, and being too broke to get in to the nightclubs anyway. Robert played drums and another couple played guitar. I don't ever recall a complete song played and it mostly sounded like the band in the movie "Slingblade"....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Where was I...ah! Robert was moving on, going to school for HVAC (he has a successful small business in the field these days) and a replacement had been hired.....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"SHE" was named "Stephanie" 18 years old or so, and like me, a transplant from the north. About 5' 5", slender, with shoulder length brown hair, big brown eyes....an infectious laugh. Big, beautiful smile...and she smelled like sunshine....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Stephanie saw some pictures Robert had gotten developed of the group of us. I guess she saw me in the pics and commented that I was "cute" and being the good bud he was and knowing I was unencumbered at that time, Robert offered to hook her up! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscVDc96Mn2KQ5DmLezjjE6xLkzghunphOAumtmpPzant8PaU7vPd7_NTKNRSDLrnZ9M8NJruie8S7_LSf-SnEVlNKFU4NHs83Ap1XdwxZsNLuKW9mnscnOfEWlAlIRhsepwaucfw1Uok/s1600/181519_191881634178350_7812506_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscVDc96Mn2KQ5DmLezjjE6xLkzghunphOAumtmpPzant8PaU7vPd7_NTKNRSDLrnZ9M8NJruie8S7_LSf-SnEVlNKFU4NHs83Ap1XdwxZsNLuKW9mnscnOfEWlAlIRhsepwaucfw1Uok/s1600/181519_191881634178350_7812506_n.jpg" height="251" width="320" /></a> (I am on the top right of the ladder in the cutoff sleeved denim, "Robert" is center in the rising sun tee shirt. This pic about 1986 in the warehouse )</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A blind date it was. Since her place of work and mine were about five minutes apart, I burned what ever rubber a 1600cc V dub with bolt ons would do at precisely 12pm out of my work parking lot and headed to pick her up. I think we went to Subway or something. We talked and talked and I don't recall eating at all. I was smitten from that moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She, like many other young folk lived a few blocks off the beach, and at that time there were many small "pay by the week" studio apartment/motel type places. This was the pre cell phone era, so my contact was to give her my number and she would call from the pay phone outside the lobby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We met up on the next Saturday, she had me pick her up on the corner down the street from the place she lived. I was naïve and it did not occur to me why she just did not have me pick her up at the door. We had a date at the flea market and before long we were holding hands. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few phone calls and a couple of similar dates later, I learned she had a "roommate" and that she and the "roommate" did not get along all the time. I took it in stride as I didn't care for my roommate a lot of the time. I eventually got the pay phone number as I could call it without her having to fork out change. One time I called at the pre arranged time, and a male answered, he said he was Stephanie's "brother". </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She called half an hour later. I told her I spoke with her "brother" and she got very very quiet.. then started crying and told me he was her older boyfriend that she wanted to get away from. Then she had to abruptly get off the phone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few days later, she called me crying and said "come get me!" My room mate, whom I had confided the situation to, insisted on coming with. Which was a good thing! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The place was called the Sandpiper or the Beachcomber or such. We pulled in and went to the ground floor room. "Steph" had started dumping her clothes out in to Hefty bags and I began to help her. "What's going on man?" Said a voice......and there was the recently arrived "roommate". Flanked by my room mate...... This memory is very clear. The guy was about my height (5' 7") but wiry. He was built like a welterweight boxer, and he had what I can only describe as "serial killer" eyes! And from the way his veins were all pumped up and he was twitching, he was definitely on some crank of some sort. (Google it if needed) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I tried in vain to think of what the etiquette in this situation was- "What to do when you are dumping a gal's panties in a trash bag when the guy she is leaving who is jacked up on coke walks in?" sort of thing, but came up blank. Dad taught me a lot about felling trees, mending fences, but not one dammed THING about this pickle I'd mired myself in!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr. Serial Killer Eyes recognized there were two of us, but one of him, and said very calmly to the shaking gal.... "Steph, can I see you for a minute?" and took her in the one bedroom off the combination living/dining room/kitchen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My roomie and I did not know what to do....grab her shit and toss it in the car? Then we heard a sound that still rings in my ear to this day....the distinctive "Shiick!" of a clip being slid in to an automatic pistol!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Did I commit an act of fearless chivalry? Throw myself between the lass and her aggressor in a selfless act of sacrifice? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fuck no! I recall my roomie silently mouthing "GO!" as we both headed out the propped open door. I don't recall opening the v dub's door, nor do I remember stopping at any stop signs or red lights on the way back to our place, about 15 minutes away..... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Did I read about a grizzly murder down on the beach in the Sun Sentinel the next day? Was a decomposed body found in the Everglades six months later? No.......she was alive and well enough to screw my room mate a few weeks later!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-12371617134585008462014-03-11T19:41:00.001-07:002014-03-11T19:41:12.866-07:00.Navigating the old way- with a MAP!<span style="font-size: large;">Last weekend I had to make a trip to pick up my oldest daughter, who has spent the week with my sister in North Carolina. The drive took us up I-95 northbound out of Georgia and in to South Carolina, where I intersected interstate 26 to head west/northwest. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The plan was to meet at an exit off I-26 that is about half way mileage and time wise for both of us to drive. On the way up there was an accident about a dozen miles shy of the exit to 26, some sort of three car affair that took nearly half an hour to get past. The interstate is only two lanes wide in SC and really needs to be three laned in each direction, which is not likely to happen soon. Traffic south bound, I noted, was very heavy. Between spring break starting and it being Bike Week in Daytona Beach Florida, lots of traffic headed south. Enough for me to want to try a different route back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We met at a Hardee's off an exit and "exchanged the prisoner". I got on I-26 headed east, wanting to find another route south. I pulled a dog eared atlas from the back seat and handed it to Brooke. (I am sorry if you are a dog, able to read, and find this offensive)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis56yTc6z7jJzvGW8-dIDt5qVmyYTKAu6F1MkXyGcGJLXGIaNSvgy6Z8400BPuidAyy2Sv4CR1d2RPX6rB74GTOD-QROQ0uAoAk7tQ27n6NnEXgu8A0mm4iFQ9gZwTImlPOO61HxEysHc/s1600/Lab-Dog-looking-sad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis56yTc6z7jJzvGW8-dIDt5qVmyYTKAu6F1MkXyGcGJLXGIaNSvgy6Z8400BPuidAyy2Sv4CR1d2RPX6rB74GTOD-QROQ0uAoAk7tQ27n6NnEXgu8A0mm4iFQ9gZwTImlPOO61HxEysHc/s1600/Lab-Dog-looking-sad.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, why did I do this, rather than tell her to take her I phone and find us another route? Simple! Last Christmas the family and I were faced with the same dilemma, traffic backed up and trying to find a back route. The problem with those GPS and nav applications is they all want an ending address.....but they always and I mean always want to put you on the interstate, which was gridlocked and the reason we wanted another route! Then you get frustrated telling it to re route. Guess what else.....they don't work when you loose cell signal, which happens in rural areas. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I can pull out a paper atlas, look at the WHOLE PICTURE, and see a way out quicker than you can punch the data in on the screen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thus we did. After I told her to open the book and find South Carolina, I pointed to where we were, and told her to find highway 601, which intersected with our direction a few miles down. What do you know, we could take 601, a two laner, all the way across the border into Sylvania, GA which was about 40 minutes from our place on the west side of Savannah, or go just a few miles south on 601 and pick up highway 21 in Orangeburg SC which would take us more east/southeast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On we went, oh, not moving the potential 75 we would do IF the interstate was clear, but we were moving at 55-60 mph with occasional slowdowns for small towns. Which is better than 0 to 5 mph with a diesel rig idling on one side of me, and an SUV with a domestic argument going on inside, while their big navigation screen shows a clear, blue road with an arrow pointing in the way they are SLOWLY going! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do like my techno devices. I own a smart phone. I have a cool GoPro hi definition camera. I have a small hand held GPS I use for boating, fishing and snowmobiling. I have used auto nav systems for finding an urban address. But in the country? My folks have had people come to visit, who INSIST on "just give me the address!" when the 'ol man tries to tell them how to get there (3 1/2 miles north on 102!) and they get routed about 12 miles out of the way in a big circle......since GPS units often don't recognize unpaved township roads.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well I sound like a crotchety old fart in this entry...but so many have no clue where they are without devices. A sense of direction, the ability to find North from South, East from West. read a paper map, come on people! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">OK ranting on.......some years back we had a hurricane evacuation, mind you pre GPS, but none the less, I knew the two lanes leading in and out of the area, while others spent hours on a grid locked interstate. Some of whom I am sure have lived here most of their lives. It amazes me how little some folk know about their own surroundings. </span><br />
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Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-85492974637200252092014-01-23T20:33:00.000-08:002014-01-23T20:33:28.151-08:00Gator delivery part III- a few days in Minnesota then back home-<span style="font-size: large;"> "What's that green thing you brought on the trailer?" I was asked. I handed dad the keys, and said this was payback for blowing the engine in his pickup when I was 17.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He looked perplexed, I explained how I had acquired the machine. I got my plank ramps out, un strapped and unloaded the Gator, and we took a quick ride around the place as I demonstrated the operation, then he drove. I think he may have cracked a smile in the process. We pulled in behind the house and he came in and got mom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As predicted she proclaimed it "cute" and I took her on a long circuit of the back forty, I caught a giggle now and then and she gripped the dash handle tightly. Mom's got a knee that bothers her some and doesn't get way out on the woods trails like she used to so this was neat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dad and I went out and cut up some ash from a tree that had fallen in a storm earlier in the summer - </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And off the old settler drives...... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you get back to the wood pile, flip the switch and dump the bed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While there, I fixed a few things as I usually do. The right brake on the 8N Ford dad picked up was soaked in oil from a leaking axle seal, leaking oil on to the brake assembly from the transmission. I had ordered parts ahead of time from Stiener Tractor parts so I had what I needed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From what I can tell, this tractor had been a "blue belly" at one time, and the leaking seal was due to being ineptly installed, it was not "square" in the carrier, and they used (re used!) gaskets and about two tubes of nasty black RTV. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used the Gator as a work bench that day. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAOkTmqfQGZf6l7LnOhn3MiQ_L5qd80E_C8-JEsHf2dW9nUs112ubR5EL9UngEx8js0pxX4mIGhFvk2WS_4kHKf7TjVfYDD8W0uBftM_JN6_BoCzPTO0HRTFM_5QxSYA97waRONIxBkk/s1600/IMG_0555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAOkTmqfQGZf6l7LnOhn3MiQ_L5qd80E_C8-JEsHf2dW9nUs112ubR5EL9UngEx8js0pxX4mIGhFvk2WS_4kHKf7TjVfYDD8W0uBftM_JN6_BoCzPTO0HRTFM_5QxSYA97waRONIxBkk/s640/IMG_0555.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is a very good running tractor, a 1950 model from the serial number and it has a 12 volt electrical conversion. However, there are a few things I think of as "hackery" done to it. First off, if you are going to "restore" a tractor, at least do some body work! A few hours with some bondo and a ball peen hammer would have gone a long way on the hood, the fenders were painted right over rust pits and are bleeding rust back through all ready. Then there is the brake issue I had to fix, and I have found a few loose bolts here and there. Sure, it may look great in this picture but the hood is rough as hell from ten feet away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I then patched up a roof on the sap shack a bit. I think a metal roof is in order here in the next couple years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The stovepipe coming out the side is from the sap boiler used each spring for maple syrup. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Central Minnesota Heritage Club was having it's summer show just a couple miles from the house so I went over and took it in. One thing I really liked was the number of machines in "working clothes", in other words not overly restored. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This Case "CC" was I believe a 1934 model and originally on steel wheels I would imagine, I saw it run pulling the stone boat with a big water tank on it and folks jumping on as it pulled down the track. It sure sounded sweet lugging down! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here is a home added log splitter on an Allis Chalmers "B" Allis Chalmers was this year's show featured brand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Shorthorn oxen? I didn't see them at work though the owners have a little wagon they pull. Docile creatures for sure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGrY8CoFe2q_Jhjs4bD2KbLLb7qYEtys0hzbVJCl-Avw-3wnbflppFHhsp38mnGxodb-0eO1r_5fc3SUnu0Tiib94dKkNeQWH60YEpiicuaLAvXC3W-Y_wtNfQjKD4b_KtPBeMd02QWU/s1600/IMG_0715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGrY8CoFe2q_Jhjs4bD2KbLLb7qYEtys0hzbVJCl-Avw-3wnbflppFHhsp38mnGxodb-0eO1r_5fc3SUnu0Tiib94dKkNeQWH60YEpiicuaLAvXC3W-Y_wtNfQjKD4b_KtPBeMd02QWU/s640/IMG_0715.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lawn mower pullers! The lawn tractor pulls were held Sunday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Video I took of the threshing machine-</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/pMc3WkZMNco?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also dug the '74 model six horse Johnson outboard from the shed, it gets run every few summers on the johnboat dad bought along with it. When we lived on the other side of the road, my grandmother had a dock on Big Swan lake it was kept at. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I shall also mention that these were probably the two hottest days of the summer, in the high 90's. That dip I took on a Sunday afternoon after anchoring the boat and jumping over the side sure felt good. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Since I had an empty trailer, it had to be loaded! Back in the early 80's, dad bought this wagon running gear from a farm auction for 25 dollars or so. A tad of research showed it was constructed (quite well so) with a pair of '37-'39 Ford front axles, which were flipped over 180* to raise them (they "smile" in the car but are "unhappy" on the wagon) and the large bolt pattern wheels.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I had to put air and a valve stem core in ONE tire. Sure, some were low, but dad figures this thing had not moved in 27 years!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJhJ1cLWLQySJZ6Vyu-rVOr7mri-_zzCbcIVH82-60yCoLna-ku1Agf9Zto9p6pHh_al9KZkV1HsqSz-55xbOeWyXKR9eNu7pnmQ1huMSq_3365X6mwwJ2pKYGWDfGI1ZW4tx_SCSY9w/s1600/IMG_0684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJhJ1cLWLQySJZ6Vyu-rVOr7mri-_zzCbcIVH82-60yCoLna-ku1Agf9Zto9p6pHh_al9KZkV1HsqSz-55xbOeWyXKR9eNu7pnmQ1huMSq_3365X6mwwJ2pKYGWDfGI1ZW4tx_SCSY9w/s640/IMG_0684.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We had a flat bed on this when I was a kid, here is a pic from 1982 baling some hay- the rest of the equipment is long gone but the running gear remains. The guy on the Minneapolis-Moline RTU tractor is a 15 year old me, the guy on top of the load now owns a successful pool and spa business, the third guy I lost track of. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Loaded that wagon up along with an old horse drawn walking plow and a better chassis to replace the rusted chassis on a '67 Ski Doo I have.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCcWVMtbhxgcRuetx6cqmX-UQbvLeTq67gJ7xSmsVEPLIbazgzwNlXA58fqcVe3ineLN8tzWIu4H3BN-8O0N_2XKePTUAAZF67ICIIhDQr5ADaDgRNZMwHhr-Nj1CRMz0BzjnQXS9lhg/s1600/IMG_0692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCcWVMtbhxgcRuetx6cqmX-UQbvLeTq67gJ7xSmsVEPLIbazgzwNlXA58fqcVe3ineLN8tzWIu4H3BN-8O0N_2XKePTUAAZF67ICIIhDQr5ADaDgRNZMwHhr-Nj1CRMz0BzjnQXS9lhg/s1600/IMG_0692.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Monday morning came, and it was time to leave for Georgia again. I had the load strapped down to the trailer, said my good byes and headed out about 6am on a Monday. I stopped in the town of Grey Eagle, 3 1/2 miles down the road, and checked the straps, and who came walking by but this guy Vance who I recall from school, on his way to get a cup of coffee from the Clark station that was opening up. We summarized our lives since we last talked in four minutes or less, and I got on the road again! </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Down two lane country roads as dawn became morning and I headed on down I-94 towards Minneapolis. Baled road ditches anyone?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidWhVc2CYzLezG9klDyU3LygcL7tsxjlTR1oaK4qQ4zRHzJv4k2tD9knkIcWg2bmXFFjODazNMnsYgopeEj6-GvK-ET1y0j982B_p2-8yCY76HU1urarcM6xHRKGlCQBJQJUKTwgMnqEY/s1600/IMG_0723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidWhVc2CYzLezG9klDyU3LygcL7tsxjlTR1oaK4qQ4zRHzJv4k2tD9knkIcWg2bmXFFjODazNMnsYgopeEj6-GvK-ET1y0j982B_p2-8yCY76HU1urarcM6xHRKGlCQBJQJUKTwgMnqEY/s1600/IMG_0723.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Below is a load of sweet corn, to compliment the load of tomatoes I got behind in Indiana. I was not pelted with corn this time however. This was after merging to 1-35.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPiYYGVR2ebPyTDB6vwri6SUndekx-w1OUxMpKLOiaqSAAFeiuEy9iW_vrvZJn7lG1wN4iWbVRrPKeUBjQoMVX3IsePhKYhLX7NuMWeAj-xVXuo1ZlBDb0mrlsmotU9Kd3ZiNoFlyHPU/s1600/IMG_0727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPiYYGVR2ebPyTDB6vwri6SUndekx-w1OUxMpKLOiaqSAAFeiuEy9iW_vrvZJn7lG1wN4iWbVRrPKeUBjQoMVX3IsePhKYhLX7NuMWeAj-xVXuo1ZlBDb0mrlsmotU9Kd3ZiNoFlyHPU/s1600/IMG_0727.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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Iowa, here we come. The roads proved much smoother than the Wisconsin route on the way up.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiLr3qFXJQ0S9LJMvV-rGlx7-Bh9463UIAqS7PTJSTDWy4ZPDbdiQhA8JZfzT2BsnvURyzYac42ffwUsenipwxHO4e79T3SoQxoRK_qNxFVQh1nCDZoOEaMaiCXqfwpxCEsQb0ffDoXw/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiLr3qFXJQ0S9LJMvV-rGlx7-Bh9463UIAqS7PTJSTDWy4ZPDbdiQhA8JZfzT2BsnvURyzYac42ffwUsenipwxHO4e79T3SoQxoRK_qNxFVQh1nCDZoOEaMaiCXqfwpxCEsQb0ffDoXw/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm not sure what this place is- airport?</div>
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Several hours later, the "worlds largest truck stop" which has a separate truck museum that I did NOT go in to due to time. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYST8PL0fuRQAwlDWlMOIwY1LQ-MFeyHh4tnrFdubjp9W2KL1vIRX-xV0XJKAQO1Akirg8FTXL0yoIcCN1kp9U7XFLDAvwcPFNVb9gBs7-cwioP5Zd55thrNN2Lc8f8pBQDWQWVLAppQ/s1600/IMG_0735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYST8PL0fuRQAwlDWlMOIwY1LQ-MFeyHh4tnrFdubjp9W2KL1vIRX-xV0XJKAQO1Akirg8FTXL0yoIcCN1kp9U7XFLDAvwcPFNVb9gBs7-cwioP5Zd55thrNN2Lc8f8pBQDWQWVLAppQ/s1600/IMG_0735.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here is the base, or part of it, for one of the many giant wind turbines being transported -<br />
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Inside the actual truck stop store, which reminds me of a shopping mall, there was this neat Dodge Power Wagon on display.<br />
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Things sure have come a long way, neat old truck but I sure would not want to, nor be able to, knock down 850 miles in a day in that iron dog!</div>
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Above is a Caterpillar building in Peoria, IL. </div>
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I pressed on, making it east to the outskirts of Indianapolis, then south on I-65. About 12:30 AM and 18 hours since leaving the home place, this guy needed a place to rest. Only the rest area on the big slab was backed up on the the on ramp with big rigs. I pulled in a TA truck stop parking lot in Seymore, IN. </div>
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This time I was not as lucky. Ended up parked between two rigs and it was warmer, more humid out than it was on the overnight in Kentucky on the way up. I woke up sweaty a couple times and had to start the engine to run the AC and cool off the cab. With rigs coming and going all the time, GOOD sleep was not possible. </div>
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About 6 hours later I gave up on trying to sleep more, and hit the road. Here are the lights coming in to Louisville at dawn.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8AhhdNaiIZglogLyVuIFN8zYO_d25C1se3Ps8_JtwX6JHi1XH69LC5JCQN7swNarrWuLtX-oRtLLnVD8Oo9BHXbdncwCut74cWpyaRs1fkFwmZTCxlSl-YGbajkSYAgI7QuepcN6iTc/s1600/IMG_0747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8AhhdNaiIZglogLyVuIFN8zYO_d25C1se3Ps8_JtwX6JHi1XH69LC5JCQN7swNarrWuLtX-oRtLLnVD8Oo9BHXbdncwCut74cWpyaRs1fkFwmZTCxlSl-YGbajkSYAgI7QuepcN6iTc/s1600/IMG_0747.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Once in Louisville, I hit I-64 and headed east. This time, instead of bearing south on I-75 at Lexington I continued east/southeast on Combs Mountain Parkway. This took me on a very scenic route, most of which was a divided four lane. At Pikeville, I headed south on US 19-23. At about noon, I pulled in to my inlaw's yard.</div>
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I backed the trailer in to a spot and unhooked it, as the wagon and plow were to stay there. Chris was doing better after the ATV roll over but still couldn't really use his arm. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The story pretty much ends here. After unhooking and shooting the breeze with Chris, I headed to Savannah, getting home about 7pm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can't find my notes, but the trip back was 330 or so miles longer than the trip up, due to the Iowa route (extra 80 miles) and going home with a detour to Wise, VA to drop the trailer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't have one of those GPS navigation units and chuckle when I am driving down the interstate, and look over to see a car lower than me (which you can see well while driving a 4x4 truck) and see the screen with the arrow pointing straight ahead! Now I will admit they are nice in a city trying to find a place, but I do just fine with a Rand McNally altas. I have a Garmin E-trex GPS I use basically as a trip meter. It records mileage, time moving and time stopped. It will surprise you just how long those gas stops take! I snapped this shot close to the VA/TN border, you can see the elevation displayed on the bottom, 3750 ft. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBZZMJa3vMsXOP9r6KvnZXgA6AnLSvlq9fBYJAHaK8VS759VG6wkVMGbThTzGshfCe0Cph4RZcgJLRy7HgSDrccua-9g6kLPl1Ew7vjZ6NUKF5xbre2zFChzs5CrOKxVObphrbwwX8Xc/s1600/IMG_0754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBZZMJa3vMsXOP9r6KvnZXgA6AnLSvlq9fBYJAHaK8VS759VG6wkVMGbThTzGshfCe0Cph4RZcgJLRy7HgSDrccua-9g6kLPl1Ew7vjZ6NUKF5xbre2zFChzs5CrOKxVObphrbwwX8Xc/s1600/IMG_0754.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also have a small Uniden CB that is powered through a plug to a lighter socket. I use a magnet mount antenna on the front fender. This was handy in the construction traffic I encountered in Illinois. I had a means of finding out what lane was closed up ahead and what the hold up was. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7boM_PM75RU5yqyXFWOTlODZBENUXr6Fl9HKmLWjuhRyVTgOCYDKabXbTZvlSkRzuHxCw8xzFyWsH4f9UVV0AwJnUOlScr3kKjHKr6qMT7vOSr-Y4SWpv7uGb7BkA1QuzI5FcctO6_sg/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7boM_PM75RU5yqyXFWOTlODZBENUXr6Fl9HKmLWjuhRyVTgOCYDKabXbTZvlSkRzuHxCw8xzFyWsH4f9UVV0AwJnUOlScr3kKjHKr6qMT7vOSr-Y4SWpv7uGb7BkA1QuzI5FcctO6_sg/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-81313200712393300072013-10-27T20:40:00.000-07:002013-10-27T20:40:08.499-07:00Gator Delivery service part II- Jethro hits the open road-<span style="font-size: large;">Plans had been made. I picked up my 16' utility trailer from the yard of a friend with a much larger yard than me (he stores it and uses it) and loaded up the aforementioned "Gator". I took all kinds of hand tools, a hydraulic jack, floor jack, an air compressor and anything else I could think of. Work was slow so getting a Wednesday through Tuesday off was not a problem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oil was checked, tire pressures checked. Kids and wife kissed good bye and last minute instructions left. After waiting out a downpour, I hopped in the Dodge and was on the way. Actually half a day earlier than intended. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rBd4mPE1bC9-HmMKwWG2b3dOf6Rgblhx_iunTHQ8s_4bVIYOzBk1meJCShnIt3AaxaDZc09Nx8iaGsk_sQEmnWkVGq3UY1LQxhyphenhyphenL9nU0gMA065nVFMX9L9vQ0wAPb9BI31EvU9_Ppew/s1600/IMG_0625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rBd4mPE1bC9-HmMKwWG2b3dOf6Rgblhx_iunTHQ8s_4bVIYOzBk1meJCShnIt3AaxaDZc09Nx8iaGsk_sQEmnWkVGq3UY1LQxhyphenhyphenL9nU0gMA065nVFMX9L9vQ0wAPb9BI31EvU9_Ppew/s640/IMG_0625.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was driving from Savannah, GA to near the town of Grey Eagle, Minnesota. The most direct route takes you right through Atlanta GA and Chicago, IL and I wanted to avoid both. Thus I did!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Interstate 95 north up the coast to the intersection of I-26, then alllll the way through South Carolina in to western North Carolina, and I-40 thru the smokies. Here are some pics, not totally in order, but I kept the camera on my lap and just shot through the windshield all the way up. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTr4HDU3ImguxVmmJy60B79qh-dZ8inagxSJrg8WnIjBRJmwtfCRQz4cvFkicmL6qS7IBq3hIkRoAIAmG9rznzWJPvzt4NGBQPso0WBV4nRKSUEpk7SqDO6N9Xbg390w60sg34j7KYJm8/s1600/IMG_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTr4HDU3ImguxVmmJy60B79qh-dZ8inagxSJrg8WnIjBRJmwtfCRQz4cvFkicmL6qS7IBq3hIkRoAIAmG9rznzWJPvzt4NGBQPso0WBV4nRKSUEpk7SqDO6N9Xbg390w60sg34j7KYJm8/s640/IMG_0628.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH22K03r_e_CHzjAaIIPtM52qnPj9ST3roPYsTVyeWMfnT5ynHIvI6ehJ9fBPDrWqvU2tDX5LDjTn6xC6XdXguWxD5FaqwGqs60d9DOED_DcuIDB1yMwidgAxwfbzfw3rj7VFOLOKCxo/s1600/IMG_0629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH22K03r_e_CHzjAaIIPtM52qnPj9ST3roPYsTVyeWMfnT5ynHIvI6ehJ9fBPDrWqvU2tDX5LDjTn6xC6XdXguWxD5FaqwGqs60d9DOED_DcuIDB1yMwidgAxwfbzfw3rj7VFOLOKCxo/s640/IMG_0629.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2o8tHUklAwK0tY0UM-oe-XZiQB_AtUhO2PC8aEN6J2sjLKp44NyeSEhbCeLl5CYaOXpDY2kUPTYgccPdIzAXNJ2Rbi5hczN2ApUBvkDye27vqzspcX-tJ7xXx-JHYic5iR5Q2rVWWLc/s1600/IMG_0630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2o8tHUklAwK0tY0UM-oe-XZiQB_AtUhO2PC8aEN6J2sjLKp44NyeSEhbCeLl5CYaOXpDY2kUPTYgccPdIzAXNJ2Rbi5hczN2ApUBvkDye27vqzspcX-tJ7xXx-JHYic5iR5Q2rVWWLc/s640/IMG_0630.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EhEGiVwTOj657FUgMNdjmZXapZdZSI0bOC9EQy-VHDYoo-mn0EhohUbeFsfKE3qT04qtVkXt9TVo018GKQ-mbXw3ujM_AWxI44m4wJGDurlUWLJ2ovkatppNCD-NeGCfq652c2-xGsI/s1600/IMG_0631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EhEGiVwTOj657FUgMNdjmZXapZdZSI0bOC9EQy-VHDYoo-mn0EhohUbeFsfKE3qT04qtVkXt9TVo018GKQ-mbXw3ujM_AWxI44m4wJGDurlUWLJ2ovkatppNCD-NeGCfq652c2-xGsI/s640/IMG_0631.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHaYOzcH1gVMr-YXUnwi2IVUPnYD8sGD-6YJyTBaSfTQ7V5u73sojqjj3wfikpZSWjGb9hlymjIf7-3SCG9nqcLpiYw8tLk57KdCLtlghQwSIQSfkgW8-JgQtsqxA7J4dQYWIWu9KSpyc/s1600/IMG_0632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHaYOzcH1gVMr-YXUnwi2IVUPnYD8sGD-6YJyTBaSfTQ7V5u73sojqjj3wfikpZSWjGb9hlymjIf7-3SCG9nqcLpiYw8tLk57KdCLtlghQwSIQSfkgW8-JgQtsqxA7J4dQYWIWu9KSpyc/s640/IMG_0632.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now the tires on the rig were a few years old, yet appeared just fine. Except one had blown out while the trailer was in the use of a friend, who put on the spare. I replaced the blown one prior to leaving, and put the spare back in the truck bed. I noted some "flat spotted" "thump thump thump" as I headed down the interstate, but figured it would work it's way out. It sure did, And not in a way I wanted it to...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yep, the tires had had enough and were rebelling against my plans.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I stopped around twilight at the exit for Newport, Tennessee on I-40 just east of Knoxville, where I could connect with I-75 and head north. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGsr6GWHuNHtVl0oUqhkjuoNUR4WXBfM_bMx3iNCPxJabIOCHUb4TUz7Cg0iwqC7iAImEG54sW-E_ftdWvAZU6Zp6JRBy-TUl5RCUsuS9ZtftVhK1TyMNP-UZIghO_TYJCbBq8TrHRUQ/s1600/IMG_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGsr6GWHuNHtVl0oUqhkjuoNUR4WXBfM_bMx3iNCPxJabIOCHUb4TUz7Cg0iwqC7iAImEG54sW-E_ftdWvAZU6Zp6JRBy-TUl5RCUsuS9ZtftVhK1TyMNP-UZIghO_TYJCbBq8TrHRUQ/s400/IMG_0635.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I jacked it up and put the spare on the worst offender, which was swelled up like a bicycle tire. I let the air down on the other two original tires (one had been replaced prior to leaving) and hoped for the best. It was about 8pm and I had steam left in me, wanted to cover more road before calling it quits for some sleep, but had no tire shop nearby. I crossed my fingers and got back on the road. I held the speed to about 60 mph in the right lane and pressed on, in to the sunset. 30 minutes later I was connected with I-75 and heading North. I pressed on, with the WHAP WHAP WHAP going on back behind me. I kept expecting one of them to explode and bend up the trailer fender but it never happened.</div>
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I pulled off at a rest area just after connecting with I-64 around Lexington, KY about midnight. I have covered 640 some miles in the 12 1/2 hours since leaving home. </div>
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I cracked the rear side windows and the slider in back, hung towels for curtains, used the sunshade as a shade between the front and back seats and lay down in back with my duffle bag as a pillow. The temps were in the mid 70's and there was a bit of a breeze so it wasn't bad. Not totally dark, there are always lights but I got away from them as much as I could.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgHGxT2HJUQ03R9DOsh_Oq2HCMIQkb3YNAnx0l-mzAMb1DHWkSr2sI9DoFHZRLviYTdp3C-bZ6burEamRLyM3CetvP6i7CSNTGIuXkqu8SlxP8eQHBFsNiXvwiv5XHZMQTUgZ-q_ZsRk/s1600/IMG_0633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgHGxT2HJUQ03R9DOsh_Oq2HCMIQkb3YNAnx0l-mzAMb1DHWkSr2sI9DoFHZRLviYTdp3C-bZ6burEamRLyM3CetvP6i7CSNTGIuXkqu8SlxP8eQHBFsNiXvwiv5XHZMQTUgZ-q_ZsRk/s640/IMG_0633.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sure, could I have gotten a nice room at a motel 6? Well that would have taken an extra 40 minutes I figure between checking in and out, finding a place to park the rig as most hotels don't have long spaces. Then I'd either be up half the night worried the Gator was stolen off the trailer (a friend had his rig with a drag racing buggy and ATV on it stolen right out of a hotel parking lot) or I'd sleep so well I'd oversleep and not get on the road early. </div>
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I was up at 7am, found the vending machine with the coffee was broken, splashed some water on my face, and prepared to leave. I spoke with a trucker getting out of his truck who told me the next exit up had lots of places and possibly a tire shop. </div>
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Frankfort, TN had what I needed. Tire Discounters! I pulled in about 7:30 and noted the sign said they opened at 8am. I was about to leave when the manager pulled in, unlocked the door and to come on in while he made coffee. He booted up the computer and sure enough, they had three 225/75/15 trailer tires in stock. I backed the trailer around back.</div>
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I headed over to the Waffle House across the street for a grease and carbohydrate fix.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeIt-ByDQYRgVN8MlxEguC4zpBIUkKgfqwNopc4DYZa9Y6azdd-W_2VTEDWmOd1CIqs-TcPrFlTioqFCY7U_Wq6yKZSMvuD4eLsspUrJgoGsVvILYeiYw0Wa8VJsWI41uCwTvLJQBEaY/s1600/IMG_0637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeIt-ByDQYRgVN8MlxEguC4zpBIUkKgfqwNopc4DYZa9Y6azdd-W_2VTEDWmOd1CIqs-TcPrFlTioqFCY7U_Wq6yKZSMvuD4eLsspUrJgoGsVvILYeiYw0Wa8VJsWI41uCwTvLJQBEaY/s640/IMG_0637.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Should have gotten bacon instead of country ham. I forgot how indelibly salty it is. </div>
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After cleaning my plate and over tipping the wait staff (very friendly and good service) walked over to the convenience store next door and got myself some road supplies, a few apples, granola bars and a bag of ice for the cooler I kept on "the hump" of the back seat reachable while driving. </div>
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When I got back to the tire store, this young man had gotten my tires changed, and checked the air in all my truck tires to boot. It was like pulling teeth to get him to take a 20 dollar tip!</div>
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And on I went. I-64 to Lousiville, KY, then north on I-65 towards Indianapolis, Indiana. I got pelted with tomatoes just shy of Indianapolis. Well, not pelted, but they were rolling off on the bumps. At least I figure they were tomatoes, looked like Romas.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfH6_7HpTHtfTfwrnXtg6hZ1-d28OVvfwDP3Vm1K1Uiiv7rvGlwzSUD5hzFsWZVuyJswo4YefYGkvAhfseVmUd7lsZg6mcNVkeFE92h2TDg6wOhzLJivKMpaPNs9kNBJk_5ipu9TS8Lfk/s1600/IMG_0641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfH6_7HpTHtfTfwrnXtg6hZ1-d28OVvfwDP3Vm1K1Uiiv7rvGlwzSUD5hzFsWZVuyJswo4YefYGkvAhfseVmUd7lsZg6mcNVkeFE92h2TDg6wOhzLJivKMpaPNs9kNBJk_5ipu9TS8Lfk/s640/IMG_0641.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Approaching the south side of Indy, about to exit and go west towards I-74 and Illinois-</div>
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Here are some random shots from the road. The crops looked great, last year there was a major drought and everything was brown according to locals. I noted the style of barns in Illinois differs from the barns I am accustomed to in Minnesota. They have a copula on the roof that is unique, not seen this before. Look closely at the barn pics. </div>
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Travelin' tunes-</div>
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On I-74 in eastern Illinois, they were doing construction and I spent miles and miles of one lane stop and go, I snapped a shot of these classics and street rods headed the other way-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6gdnItzuWA91P3TL-0myj-H_c4PFqKXxFzGEYOrCM4S3eS7Op6cB0Iz82i0xGhs2u4R8cyEfiFuLDNj2HgipCR2uibCMcimWCPSR5ZAHnR1IjqJ121r-awfxKjbLcr_U-YUAM85bElY/s1600/IMG_0649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6gdnItzuWA91P3TL-0myj-H_c4PFqKXxFzGEYOrCM4S3eS7Op6cB0Iz82i0xGhs2u4R8cyEfiFuLDNj2HgipCR2uibCMcimWCPSR5ZAHnR1IjqJ121r-awfxKjbLcr_U-YUAM85bElY/s640/IMG_0649.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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</span><span style="font-size: large;">The truck kept rolling along, with the new tires it was smooth at 75, I never had reason to go any faster than that. And many times slower due to the construction work. I avoid taking long stops and eating big meals, opting to snack along the way. I keep the cooler mentioned earlier with ice and water in it, keep some fruit and granola bars to munch on. I would get a quick burger when stopping for fuel but not each too much. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every 300 miles like clockwork we needed a fill. The tank is 26 gallons per the manual, and when on dead "E" on the needle I get 23 gallons in it. I checked the MPG with a calculator each fill up, and got between 11.5 (mountains) and 14.2 (flatlands in IL with lots of 25-45 mph contruction) which I think is decent considering a 5780lb truck ('03 4x4 Dodge with 5.7 Hemi and 3.91 gears) towing a trailer which I guess to be 2100 lbs loaded, and having a couple hundred pounds of tools and stuff in the truck's bed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once in Bloomington/Normal IL, I hit I-39 north towards Wisconsin. I crossed the border about 5pm, paid the only toll of the trip, I think a buck eighty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On I went, north then west as I had been since leaving the low country of the Georgia coast the day before. Man, the badger state interstate was rough! The cracks in the pavement were just at the right spacing to get a jerking, bucking motion going with the truck and trailer. Then and there I determined I would make the trip home via Iowa! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The sun set, I was about four hours from home. I was tired, but not dangerously tired. I had a phone call with dad and determined I'd be there about 12:30 AM or so. I hit Minneapolis-St Paul at 11pm, and went right through it with no problem. I was going to use the expression "without a hitch" but that would imply I'd lost my load...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pressing on I kept getting closer. Familiar exits from growing up there. I turned off the AC as it was cool, down south it does not cool down at night in July or August, but here it was very nice. The smells of the lakes and farms came in. The wind kept me alert. The throb of the Hemi was glorious music with the trans kicked out of overdrive, pulling up hills with the chambered aluminum muffler it has dumped in front of the rear axle. It's loud, but not too loud. Just enough to let you know it's workin'. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I came through Grey Eagle, the town I grew up in, then on home 3 1/2 miles north on county 102. I pulled in the drive, 12:48 AM central time, a total of 1532 miles and 24 hrs 45 min since departing the west side of Savannah. 892 miles. I'd gotten on the road at 9am after the tire ordeal in Kentucky. I'd "lost" an hour crossing in to central time from eastern, but it's moot as I'd gain that back en route home. Basically I'd driven just short of 16 hours that day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got in the house and dad met me at the door with a bottle of Cap't Morgan rum and asked if I "wanted a bump" Hell yes I did! Even after a stiff rum'n coke and a much needed shower I still did not go to sleep right away, just buzzed from staying awake I guess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stay tuned for PART III!</span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-22125618947260130842013-09-21T20:10:00.000-07:002013-09-21T20:10:28.453-07:00 John Deere "Gator" Georgia to Minnesota- the Gator delivery service! Part I....<span style="font-size: large;">I made an impulsive buy last October....... long story as usual!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was doing some engine work on a push boat, one that pushes a big barge hauling material and equipment up and down the coast in the coastal Georgia and South Carolina area. Ooops, not supposed to talk about work... in any case, they barge stuff over to this island that has a resort and golf course on it..stay with me now! Some of that stuff is golf course equipment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The barge yard has this beat up John Deere utility vehicle. In conversation with the captain of the tug, he mentioned he got the Gator from the guy that services the golf course account for the Deere turf dealer. The machines get pretty rusted out from the salt air and sand on the beach. The dealer sells them new Gators every five years or so, and get the old ones on trade, and sell them cheap. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I mentioned to cap't Chuck that I wanted one if they had one. A few days later the JD guy has two on a trailer, 800 bucks each. Now, I checked and at that time (October 2012) a 2008 Turf TX Gator went for about 3500-4500 bucks, without rust.... Needless to say, for 800 bills I came up with cash and bought the thing. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeY0HSUOnXgkvSIipjtbxiMIIS6ioc1llL3_rX7x8Vn5sseEwC95TtUI_M0e-tufI7YcqSaVMSEsTn6F6Y2QFECNau4qIYf9Ko-S6KHap22k1XdC8Vb23m7oTYxa8i268quwQFHyB_DQ/s1600/TwinDiscgearsJDGatorPhilstractors007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeY0HSUOnXgkvSIipjtbxiMIIS6ioc1llL3_rX7x8Vn5sseEwC95TtUI_M0e-tufI7YcqSaVMSEsTn6F6Y2QFECNau4qIYf9Ko-S6KHap22k1XdC8Vb23m7oTYxa8i268quwQFHyB_DQ/s640/TwinDiscgearsJDGatorPhilstractors007.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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Powered by a 16 horse Kawasaki four stroke gas engine under the bed, it's very quiet and reliable. It's no Polaris Razor as it has a top speed of about 20 mph, but it's very good for a work vehicle as it is intended. <br />
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The main reasoning for my purchase was my dad could sure use this thing on the family "40" in Minnesota for firewood gathering and maple sap hauling and just general getting about the place.<br />
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First, I had some rust repairs to do. The unit body was very rusted on the bottom, so I welded in a brace from some scrap material I have, to some solid metal above the "rust line"<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHM_UFVF9XN2fMtOkTByA3ft15Wddh22HDruJ_PusqHOoULDA4yR43DFZk2jCMZMgp4gxK_z2ZlFw6ZK9ifKeD9TttV1E1qsxE2KB6I6CcB21Ao3Oziz_FlvJb0szL2nE83l9EDtQ-nY/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHM_UFVF9XN2fMtOkTByA3ft15Wddh22HDruJ_PusqHOoULDA4yR43DFZk2jCMZMgp4gxK_z2ZlFw6ZK9ifKeD9TttV1E1qsxE2KB6I6CcB21Ao3Oziz_FlvJb0szL2nE83l9EDtQ-nY/s400/IMG_0622.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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I used some 1/8" plate I had from a trailer repair project, stitch welded to the outside of the unit body to avoid burn thru, even though I ground the paint off to bare metal I could not tell how thick it was. I welded a piece of 1x2" box tubing between the plate as you can see in the top pic.<br />
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I also had to patch up under the battery, it sure reminded me of all the old VW's I had, all rusty in the floorboards!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2BMVytnUPl4k5AP9RMF8hhG1ZvAs699u_sBKjwYdLO5MD9WvOLcy0a4saZbptRDZql6T7qSPJmr-MOIvQRea0KCQOSXwUQSEUoFDGb1A9YkKa_Aaz9ccXfcqsVE0nCeEnbfV_t8Pb6c/s1600/IMG_0623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2BMVytnUPl4k5AP9RMF8hhG1ZvAs699u_sBKjwYdLO5MD9WvOLcy0a4saZbptRDZql6T7qSPJmr-MOIvQRea0KCQOSXwUQSEUoFDGb1A9YkKa_Aaz9ccXfcqsVE0nCeEnbfV_t8Pb6c/s320/IMG_0623.JPG" width="180" /></a> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As you can see, it was pretty rusted away. I found tons of fine sand packed in the tub of this thing even after I pressure washed it. That sand is salt laden from it's proximity to the beach. I got it out as best as I could, then using some tin and rivets got a fresh floor under the battery box. I put a new NAPA battery in as well, the original John Deere battery was on it's way out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I replaced the near worn to the metal rear disc brake pads, thus making the parking brake work again. This machine uses a belt drive torque converter system like a snowmobile so when parked on a slope, you can't just leave it in gear and have it stay put. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ran it around the neighborhood a bit, probably put a few hours on the meter (was 1495 or something) to make sure all ran well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part II will be the trip to Minnesota- coming when I am not too lazy and tired to post it up! </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-92227522127290339362013-07-29T20:25:00.000-07:002013-07-29T20:25:42.347-07:00Good for another 50 years- fixing the old wood hauler!<span style="font-size: large;">Dad has this old two wheel 4x8 trailer. While up at the home place, I noted one wheel was very loose on the hub. Dad had a local guy put a new floor and some short sides on it, and replace one of the old bias ply tires that had been on it as long as I can recall, but he did nothing about the bearing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yep, it was what we call "Shot". The grease long gone, the outer race split. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, there are no grease caps. Now dad got this trailer in 1964, when he and mom and my two oldest sibs were moving from California to Minnesota, where dad was from. The rig had been in a grass fire, and was of unknown lineage. Dad got it free, put new tires on it and some lights, built a box and it hauled the family across the country. Used from '64 to '73 when we landed after a few moves in the Gopher state to the 40 they reside at today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At some point, it became an "off road" trailer. It's last recalled road use was hauling a hog a short distance to the butcher in about 1982 when it had higher sides on it, with a Dodge colt hatchback on a bumper hitch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Around the same time frame, I extended the hitch and got rid of the ball, putting the standard farm wagon deal so you drop a pin in. Used to pieces of 2" angle to form a box, at least one snowmobile leaf spring, and I think parts from a plow all done up with a Forney stick welder. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dad and I figured this has hauled about 200 cords of wood in it's lifetime, lots of loads of field rock, sand and gravel for cement when the houses were built, and more than a few sheep and calves depending on what sides etc were on it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Back to the bearings! I pulled the bad one, took it to the local NAPA, and with a magnifying glass we found a Timken number on it, and matched it up. Now, sure, I would normally change all four bearings, the two on each side. But at 21 bucks each, and considering this will never be towed over five MPH I felt just doing the bad one would do for the next 49 years. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So home I went, cleaned out the hub and spindle with gasoline, packed the new bearing and the old with fresh grease, and put it together. Could not find grease caps to fit it either, but it hasn't had any in years. So why spoil it? </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-53763267566615158052013-06-30T13:04:00.000-07:002013-06-30T13:04:10.661-07:00Where do ya live? The great melting pot............<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The world is a big and diverse place. And though I have not traveled much of it at all, I have learned a couple things. People, specifically those in the US of A, either A: Love where they live and could not fathom living anywhere else. Or B: Hate the place they are at and want to move.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up in small town, USA. Upper mid west. After high school I had an opportunity and moved to south Florida, specifically, and spent ten years there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a great and diverse place. certainly "southern" from a geographic standpoint, but not "southern" from a cultural standpoint. Lots of New Yorkers, New Englanders, second generation Cuban émigrés, folk from Latin America and the list goes on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew a guy who would see news footage of folk from Buffalo, NY pushing each other's cars out of deep snow. I thought it was a great community effort, having come from the snow belt of Minnesota. He would say "Just look at them fuckin' assholes!" and add "They've all got their heads squarely up their asses!" He was quite fond of that expression and used it often. He has this theory that they spent more money on warm clothes than they would spend on anything else. And then refer to south FL as "Paradise"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I have had some good times, and certainly some great memories and good friends to this day from my 10 years down there, but I am surely not going to call it "Paradise." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">By 2012 census figures from <a href="http://www.census.gov/">http://www.census.gov/</a>, the population of what is really a tri county megalopolis (Miami-Dade county, Broward/Ft.Lauderdale, and Palm Beach) is 5,762,767 folk. That is over five million. Lots of pavement. Lots at a stand still too. Now let's say all those, what are they? Oh! "Fuckin' assholes..." decided to move on down to "paradise." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Using census.gov again and plugging in the entire population of NY state, I come up with 19,510,261 folk. Now what would happen if all 19.5 million of the folks with "Their heads squarely up their asses" moved on down to "paradise"......... I don't see the infrastructure holding up. But at least they won't have to shovel snow, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have family in the upper Midwest, the desert southwest, out in California and in the Carolinas. Each one of them lives in their particular area for one reason or another. I don't feel they are "stupid" based on their personal geographic choice. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Recently, a friend of mine who was "born and raised" in eastern Maryland moved back there. He had spent his early teens to mid 20's in central Georgia, where he met a gal in collage also from MD, and they got married (though they probably had other interests in common too) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh my, you should have seen the commentary on that big social media site from all his GA buddies when he announced that he and his wife were moving! "Oh you'll freeze to death!" "Those winters will kill you!" Endearing to have one's friends not want you to leave, but to those Georgia boys, Maryland is no different than the arctic tundra of 100 years ago. Having to harpoon whales for oil and live on seal blubber, just horrible! Entertaining to read, but it shows how fearful some are of the "unknown.."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Being from the 45th parallel and well inland, I can assure you the winters at the 39th parallel and right near the coast are no where NEAR as harsh as the ones further north and inland. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The bottom line is people ought to live where they wanna live, and there is no "ideal" place to be. Some in cold climates yearn for retirement, so they can move down to Florida and live in a retirement mausoleum AHEM I mean condo, or down in Arizona, or south Texas in the winter. Well this Minnesotan native currently living down in Dixie is one guy that's going the opposite way when he retires! </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-14562613845392769282013-04-21T08:47:00.000-07:002013-05-14T09:30:50.445-07:00The tractor rescue trip of 2009<span style="font-size: large;">Way back in 2001, I purchased sight unseen a 1951 Case "SC" tricicle front end tractor from an old high school friend. $800 bucks got me the tractor with an original Case model 101 front end loader. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why sight unseen? I live in coastal Georgia, and my friend lives in central Minnesota. Plus, I knew what things were worth, and I wanted an old tractor. Who doesn't? Pic below from July of 2012.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My dad was able to get a friend with a trailer and full size truck to go fetch the rig, and bring it the 50 miles back to the family "40" where the folks reside. I think he only charged 75 bucks to do this! Considering it was a 100 mile round trip, even when fuel was cheap in 2001, he did not make any money on this deal... Here it is, on the trailer. You can just make out the HUGE snow bucket extension that was fabricated on the thing, it slipped over the tines of the manure bucket (seen in the first pic after I fabricated a gravel plate for it) and the tractor started for them to back it on the trailer, but they could not get the hydraulics to lift the thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Now I think I bought the thing in March of 2001 and it was June or July of that year before it came to mom and dads. I did not see it in person until a deer hunting trip in November of that year. I had to drain a lot of water and varnish from the sediment bowl of the gas tank to get it running, and put a charger on the battery before it sprung to life sputtering and popping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I could see it had a very "farmerized" 12 volt electrical system conversion, with things like a positive battery cable that needed to be about 18" long but with a 3 foot cable in place, the spark plug wires were different colors and obviously from various cars that folks had left the hoods up on, and two Champion spark plugs, and one Autolite and one AC. And at least one was a shorter thread reach than the others...... how in the hell this thing ever ran, much less in subzero Minnesotan winters ( seeing as it was rigged to plow snow) and how anyone but Popeye could turn the wheel with that giant bucket full of wet snow! (I can't believe how much the pines in the background have grown in the 12 years since this photo!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got the loader to lift with "jiggling" the lift lever. The hydraulic rams both leaked at the end seals and it was some milky nasty looking shit! I figure the prior owner's maintanence plan for the hydraulic system was right on par with the spark plug changes........</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Off came the loader, two pins on the lift arms, and two on the hydraulic cylinders, and one quick connect on the hose. This would enable the tractor to be put inside dad's shed which was probably the first time it had been inside in about forty years :) But before that, I hooked it to a 6' John Deere "KBA" disc that had been around the place for years and disced the garden. I have some video of it on 8mm film (remember that?) but have no way to digitize it, well I am sure it could be done but I'm too lazy. In any case she pulled the disc OK in the wet soil with the blades set to cut, but would pop, sputter and die on occasion. As it ran the gas was sloshing loose chunks of crap inside the tank, plugging the outlet at the tank's bottom. This would plague the machine for years until I finally did a chemical flush and epoxy coating of the tank's inside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now there has been way too much "prologue!" Time for the cross country trip....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My wife's family has 5 acres of land and some horses in rural southwestern Virginia, where a tractor could be of some use. The Case, aka "Casey" had been just biding his time in the shed up in Minnesota. Oh, I'd come home each summer or two and have to go through the whole rinse out the gas tank thing, drive it around the yard. Did a couple little chores here and there.... eventually dad needed the shed and Casey was parked in the trees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over a visit to VA for Christmas in 2008, I asked Chris, my mom in law's husband, if he felt like making a road trip over the coming Memorial day weekend. Chris is always up for a road trip, he normally drives an 18 wheeler for a living. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The time came, I took the Thursday before the holiday off. I drove up to their place in Virginia after work on a Wednesday night, getting in about 2 or 3 am. Chris and I got a late start the next day. Had to gather chains, binders, straps, spare tires, tools.....of course you'll forget something. We hooked Chris's 2500HD Chevy to his 16' dovetail trailer. Off we went, north on highway 19/23 through the town of Pound, VA and over the border into Kentucky. In the second pic you can see where the mountain was cut down to route the highway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We grabbed a bite at the Shoney's in Pikeville, KY and headed on north, connecting with I-64 south of Lexington, and heading west. I recall it was about 1pm at this time. The mountains gradually gave way to rolling bluegrass country. The sky was clear and the temps in the low 80's. We were getting about 13mpg empty at 70-75mph, not bad for an 8.1 gasser. Traffic wasn't bad at all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hit Louisville at about 4:30 pm and crossed the Ohio river into Indiana.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crossing the Hoosier state, the road got rough to say the least. I-64 was very badly potholed and beat up. There was construction on sections that had us down to one lane at 45 mph. Also, the area was pretty flooded, lots of small creeks and rivers over the banks and lots of low lying farm land under water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The sun was getting low in the sky when we crossed in to Illinois. Kinda hard to see the sign up ahead in this pic) We went maybe 50 miles west into the state, then at Mt Vernon (I never seen no stinkin' mountain!) we exited I 64 and got on to I-57 headed northerly. We stopped and got some grub at one point, then headed on. No more pics as it was obviously dark at this point. We continued on 57 to Champaign, where we exited on to I-74 heading northeast. 74 had a little jog around the city of Bloominton, then continued on through Peroia (Home of Caterpillar) and Galesburg, where 74 hooked due north from it's northeasterly path. We connected with I-80 just south of Moline, crossed the Mighty Missisippi and ended up in Iowa for a rest at a rest area about 2:30 AM. The truck is an extended cab, we tossed our duffel bags in back, I took the back seat lying across it (Those damn seat belts do dig in) and Chris just reclined his seat back in front. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fortunately it was a night in the mid 70's with a breeze, no need to run AC and no mosquitos I recall. I woke about 6am as the sun was rising with the need to stretch a bit. The rest area was done in a railroad theme, it was beautiful inside. I recall splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth never felt so good. Chris got out and we kicked tires, and got on our way. West on I-80 to around Iowa City, than north on I-380. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Through Cedar Rapids, I saw some of the flood damage from the previous year, lots of boarded up homes down near the river. Once north of Cedar Rapids we encountered giant wind generators in fields being planted with corn. I had not seen so many of these structures before. (picture from an internet image search)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We connected with I-35 and crossed in to Minnesota before noon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is where we deviated- normally, we would have taken I-35 to the 494 beltway around "Da Cities" as the Minneapolis-St.Paul area is called by all those in MN outside that area, and gone west, connecting with I-94 towards the folks. But I had other needs....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yessir, right through Minneapolis we went!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why? Well I have this other interest.....old beat up yellow Ski Doo snowmobiles! Yes, it does snow "some" in Virginia, a hell of a lot more than in coastal Georgia (which is NONE) and I already had one Ski Doo at Chris and Cathy's. But had a hankering for another project. Enter Ron "Goose" Thomsen, purveyor of new old stock, (NOS) used, and reproduction parts for vintage Ski Doos. Goose is just north of the cities, and I was going to peruse his "junkyard" to see if there was anything I needed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Chris pretending to ride a Kitty Cat, really an Arctic Cat product that Goose had re painted Ski Doo yellow for his kids to ride. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I came to pick up an offered free machine, I found a '68 rolling chassis, gave $40 for a useable hood and chrome handlebars, and paid $100 for a complete '69 machine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We drove out with these two.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All along the way I had been giving my dad updates over the phone. Before we left, Goose advised us of a route heading out and we wisely accepted. Now I know my dad will read this and I LOVE YOU DAD but he will argue highway directions with a stump. And then dig the stump up and argue with the roots. And he did not like the route we were taking..... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">BUT WE MADE IT! Yes, Chris had not ever seen the phenomenon called "goin' up north" the way it happens on a holiday weekend in Minnesota. It was now Friday of Memorial day weekend, and everyone was heading to the 10,000 lakes (says so right on the license plate) for the weekend. Dispite the boats and campers, crowded roads, we made it the last two hours from Goose's to mom and dads. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After an excellent home cooked meal at the outside picnic table, a few beers and a cool shower, we hit the cabin next door to the rather unique, earth sheltered home of my parents. The cabin has one bedroom and a couch, I recall lying down on the couch and hearing a snore coming from the room Chris was in before I could turn out the light. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next day, we took Dad's truck and drove in to Long Prairie, and there I bought a battery, gas can (and fresh gas) and a carburetor kit. We got a spare rim and tire for the trailer, I bought some chains and binders. We returned home and set to work. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We drained about half a gallon of rusty water from the tank before any gas came out, got the thing to pop off and drove it out of the trees. Next, the loader had to be cut out of the prickly ash that had grown around it. The hydraulic rams which had been re sealed by my friend Tony were put on, it took some muscle but we got the loader on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once the weight of the loader was on and the hydraulics lifted some, I found the front tires were pretty much flat. I could barely turn the wheel. Dad has no compressor, we tried an old PTO powered JD pump but it wouldn't do the job. I drove it through the field next door to neighbor Lloyd's, he and his wife actually live at the place I grew up at before the folks built the place across the road where they are now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were able to inflate one tire but the tube had gotten torn on the other one so it was not going to fill. Lloyd unbolted the snow bucket extension which was about 500lbs of steel un needed down south and it was given to him as scrap metal. Even with just one front tire the Case could actually be turned now that it just had the small manure bucket on the end of the arms. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We moved the Ski Doos to the truck's bed, and commenced to loading the rest. A model "999" John Deere horse drawn planter, purchased for five bucks at a farm auction in 1982 or so and used to plant a few acres of corn (with a shortened tongue and pulled by a tractor) was coming along with us. Note the Lilac bushes blooming in the back ground, one of my favorite springtime smells of Minnesota. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Finally at about 6pm Saturday we were fully loaded, sore and tired! I felt really bad as I had driven Chris like a rented mule thus far, just no time to relax until that thing was loaded. We all headed over to Shooter's Pub in nearby Swanville for a beer and a burger, then later over to the Hub where I ran in to (and introduced Chris to) some old friends and folks I knew from growing up in the area years ago. I had to translate Chris's mountain southern accent only a couple times for the locals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We got up the next day and had a large breakfast feast prepared by my mom. One does not leave hungry from that home, let me tell ya! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sunday morning, we took our time and re checked the load, packed our bags that we barely had time to unload to begin with, and headed out. First, over to my bud Tony's. Why? To pick up the engine for the '68 Ski Doo, a 10 horse Rotax two stroke that I pulled from a similar machine I parted out in high school. Tony held on to the engine all those years for me! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tony and his family have a place on Pine Lake, and he took us for a quick pontoon boat tour, the water was very clear and glass smooth that day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back in the truck we went, and headed out! We hit I-94 and headed south. This time I decided on a different route. As long as you are heading somewhere in the daylight, why not take the opportunity to see some scenery or a different area?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We headed southeast and around the MPLS metro area on the 694 bypass. We crossed the St.Croix river and on in to Wisconsin.</span></div>
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We stopped at a truck stop in Osseo, WI about half an hour across the border from MN as I recall. I paid the seven bucks to weigh the rig just out of curiosity. We were 15,720 lbs total. Our route took us east on I-94 through the beautiful Wisconsin Dells area. We picked up I-39 around Baraboo and headed due south.<br />
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We stopped around Janesville, WI at a Cracker Barrel and got a meal, around 6pm. I saw a giant fiberglass pumpkin atop a silo along the interstate, some pumpkin farm, perhaps? I was driving at the time so no pic. We rolled on south and hit Bloomington, IL and then got off 39 and on to I-74 south east. At about 2:30am (Memorial Day Monday) we stopped at a rest area and got some sleep, we had been on the road 13 hrs.<br />
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Got up about 6:30 am, and headed south on I-57 about half an hour and hit a Perkins and ate a big breakfast. Back in the truck, I took the helm and Chris went right to sleep with the rain spattering the windshield. South to Mt. Vernon IL, then east on 64 again. I think he slept all the way to Lynville, Indiana where I stopped to fuel the thirsty rig. 9-10 mpg loaded and about 225 miles between fill ups. <br />
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More rivers over the banks! Once in Indiana we could pick up the pace a bit, as mentioned earlier, IL has a 55mph speed limit for any vehicle towing and there was a fair amount of enforcement out. <br />
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Ohio river? Pic wasn't labeled on the disc but it's in the right order of things.<br />
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And out of Indiana in to Kentucky<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ol Virginny! Back at Chris and Cathy's at about 7pm on Memorial day. Roughly 25 hours since leaving central MN, off the top of my head subtracting time sleeping and stopping for meals maybe 18-19 hours behind the wheel? I had taken the Thursday and Friday before and the Tuesday after the weekend off. </span></div>
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I spent about 600 bucks roughly on gas and meals. Chris was a great help and I wish we had had an extra day in MN to spend some time fishing on the lake adjacent mom and dad's. Nobody got deathly runs from a bad gas station hot dog, we had no mechanical problems, no stops from law enforcement and even got a couple of "thumbs ups" on the vintage menagerie of mechanized memorabilia as we rolled down the highway. </div>
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Tuesday AM, we got unloaded. I did have to pull wet spark plugs from Casey to get him started and off the trailer.</div>
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Wish I had duct taped the exhaust pipe shut! I then loaded some parts in to the Camaro for the ride back to GA. I also recovered the side of the hood from my first Ski Doo I ever had, which is a story for another day. Some men in middle age buy a Corvette or have an affair, I just re connect with old rusty steel. :) I got back to Savannah, 450 miles south, about 9pm that night. </div>
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Stay tuned for more adventures! </div>
</span><br />Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-1806101237396938352013-02-12T21:27:00.000-08:002013-02-14T18:54:06.383-08:00A 50 mile solo on the John Deere 300 snowmobile<span style="font-size: large;">It was a sunny day in early February. I was on my last day of my trip home to snowy Minnesota to visit my folks and do some riding. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The 1976 John Deere 300 was purchased by my dad in 2008 at a farm auction estate sale. It had last been registered in 1991 and was well coated with barn dust, for at least it was kept inside. Gone over mechanically by a guy that knows JD machines well, it is a nice running and riding sled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I left the folks property which intersects the trail, and headed south towards the town of Grey Eagle, where I stopped at the Junction and topped off my tank with 2 1/2 gallons of gas. The tank is I believe 6 gallon capacity and there was a room for half a gallon at the top, if I fill it all the way it tends to leak around the cap seal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> A guy stopped while I was fueling up with a late model Polaris. Amazing how far design and technology has come. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">South I headed from Grey Eagle, a couple miles of open field and road side freshly groomed, then the trail hooked back north and west into woods, very tight and twisty with lots of off camber turns. The JD was a blast, just throwing my weight around in the turns with the right amount of throttle would allow a controllable drift.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The "uphill" in the pic was steeper than the pic looks. I stay to the right and stand up going up these so I can see if someone is coming the other way! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Several miles like this, across some state WMA land, very pretty with a few ponds and lots of deer tracks. The trail comes out alongside Todd County 103, then a half mile down, crosses the road and comes past "Shipwrex" formerly the Golden Eagle. Hung out there as a kid quite a bit, many times when I shouldn't have!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Deer have pawed this up, I saw corn cobs they found that the combine missed in this snow covered field, one of many the route crossed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And on in to the town of Burtrum. In places the trail there was very steep road ditch, good thing I wasn't carrying a passenger or we would have gone over. Many times in the wooded sections I stopped to clear branches etc from the trail, knocked down from the foot of snow that fell two days earlier . In one spot, I saw a rock the size of a large dog someone had glanced off of, just off trail. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The noon wistle blew, a thing still done in small towns (6pm too) as a throwback to days gone by. I lived 3 miles from this town from age 6 to 18 ('73-'85) and there was a grocery store, a gas station/auto repair shop, a post office, fire hall and the bar. The bar is all that is left. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leaving Burtrum, the engine was very doggy on low throttle and I could smell gas. As I got off the pavement back to the snow trail it bogged badly and quit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I took the console door off and pulled the cord. Fuel spewing out the vents on the Mikuni! Sticky float? I pulled the plugs and they were wet. Damn! I took the carb off with my Leatherman pocket tool's Phillips screwdriver attachment</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(I had spark plug wrenches and a STANDARD screwdriver along with) throttle and choke cables on, took the bowl off, just a couple tiny specks of grit in there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The carb had been completely disassembled by a friend who showed me the workings of it as I am more familiar with Tillotson butterfly carburetors, and it was totally spotless inside. I had nobody to call if I could not get it going, and my dad's S10 had a rusted through brake line and was at a garage being fixed. I wished I had ridden the Ski Doo about this time! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, put the carb back together, and put it back on. Left the spark plugs out, pulled the rope until no more gas spit from the plug holes due to the flooded crank case. I put clean, new Champions in (I carry spares) and the thing re started. I quickly got my coat, hat and helmet/gloves back on as they were shed in the 30* sunny day. Off I went! No, I did not take a pic of the sled with the hood up and parts scattered at the time but wish I had now...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another shot of the deer tracks in this field. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In to Swanville, the town I rode the Ski Doo to on the previous Friday (see blog entry) This pic of the Deere is from Sunday afternoon when I rode over in the near foot of fresh powder, some of the ride right down the paved but un plowed county road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once in Swanville, I snapped a picture of the groomer used by the Swanville Snow drifters, who maintain the trails in the area. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I took a slight detour on to lake Pepin, and took pics of some ice fishing houses to show the wimps back in Georgia where I live how we drive right out on the ice and sit in a warm shack to do our winter fishing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, I'm wearing vintage Ski Doo clothes while riding my John Deere. Two reasons! 1, the helmet I got for my 14th birthday and it still fits, and 2, the jacket, a vintage Ski Doo jacket, was a gift from my wife this Christmas. And it's comfy and warm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I left Swanville, heading more or less north on the trail (hey, it's late as I compose this, and I don't have a map in front of me) until I reached a crossroads, after crossing a small bridge over the Swan river.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went right, towards my destination of Flensburg to visit my friend who has an equipment repair shop there. On the way I passed this old 1930's car shell and a couple pieces of old equipment. I recognize a horse drawn mower and a road grader.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I learned from my dad that along this convoluted route I was traveling through Culdrum township (Minnesota counties are divided in to townships, each 36 square miles) that my paternal great grandparents had a small farm there. Dad recalls being very young (6 in fact, would have been 1935) and his grandpa trying to get dad to steer and drive his 1928 "Whippet" automobile slowly as it pulled a wagon (likely steel wheeled) through a field so grandpa could fork hay on it. Did not work well, dad couldn't reach the pedals........so the team of horses did not loose their jobs that day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am being watched by some beef animals here!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I traveled on, through several pasture gates (open) along the way. The way the trail system works is by local land owners allowing the club to have a 10' or so wide strip to travel through. The land owners agree to have their gates open December 1st through March 30th, the typical snow season, and the club is operated by member contributions and some state matching money. The snowmobile traffic is routed away from roadways as much as possible and away from residences. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Where was I? Oh, after leaving this farm land the route took me in to the woods again, now the path had not been groomed since leaving Swanville and was much rougher, rutted from other machine traffic. Not having 12" of articulated suspension travel it was a tad rougher going for me. At times I rode standing up so I could see deep ruts and moguls ahead. The Deere is not overly comfortable to ride like this due to the angle of the handlebars, my Ski Doo is a much better sled to stand up ride on, but not as stable overall as it is a narrower machine. They both have their strong points and draw backs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I came along and there were four or five nice size deer in the trail about 100 yds ahead. I stopped and killed the motor. They trotted off but actually came closer to me in the brush. One watched me with it's ears up while the others browsed, or pawed the snow to reach berries and acorns beneath. I took some pics, look closely! I was there several minutes and got the camera from my pocket and everything, until I moved more they stayed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They were very healthy looking, and had thick, greyish winter coats they don't have when I normally see them (November hunting season) and any bucks have shed their horns by this time of the year in MN. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For some reason, I took no more pics. I got to Flensburg, pop less than 200, a few miles later. Stopped at my friends shop, shot the bull and looked it over. Then walked literally next door to the Flensburg liquor and sat down, ordered a "Flensburger" at my bud's recommendation. That sucker was a third pound of some of the best beef I have eaten and served with onions, tomato and a heap of tater tots. I had a Grain Belt premium to go with (can't get Grain Belt down south.....) and was totally STUFFED. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back on the 300 I went. I ran anywhere from 20-30 mph depending on how rough things were, with some blasts of 40-45. On a stretch where the trail ran adjacent a hard packed snow gravel road, I saw the needle touch near 50 before I ran out of road and had to slow. The sled will run (or has run) 58+ wound out on hard pack snow on a lake, but that took a loooong time to get there. Afterall, it's a 28 horse 295cc mill made by Kohler so I won't complain! I used 3 1/2 gallons of fuel mix, and went about 50-55 miles by the odometer. Horrible fuel mileage for a car, but not bad for a two stroke snowmobile engine of the vintage. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I made one stop for fuel, lost 25 minutes with the sticking carb float, stopped for a bunch of pictures and of course many road crossings but had a great time. The only other sleds I saw were parked in Flensburg, nobody else on the trail aside from me and the animals that afternoon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Once home, I siphoned the gas from the tank (it has a short useful life) so dad can use it in his Stihl saw, and put the Deere in the shed for it's long rest until I can return next winter. </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-86814512020342727982013-02-08T21:42:00.000-08:002013-02-08T21:45:46.029-08:00A trip on the '73 Ski Doo in central Minnesota on a sunny February dayI made a pilgrimage to visit the folks in Minnesota. Though I reside in coastal Georgia and have spent nearly 27 years between Florida and Georgia, I still love to make a trip back in the Minnesota winter. I grew up around snowmobiles, tinkering and riding when I could keep the 50 and 100 dollar well worn machines I had running. Now I'm better at tinkering! Well, maybe......<br />
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I have a 1973 Ski Doo Olympique 340cc machine, 23 horsepower I believe, maybe 2 or 3" of suspension travel. Modern machines have well over 100 horsepower, and suspension travel in the 12" range. But I like the simplicity of the older machines, and as seldom as I can ride, can afford them. I bought this Ski Doo for $175 in 2006, and have maybe $300 maximum in it. In preparation for a long vintage machine poker run the next day (I'll blog that too) I felt I should do a shakedown. After all I last rode the machine in 2011, two years ago!<br />
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I left mom and dads, who's property borders on a groomed, marked snowmobile trail maintained by the Swanville sno drifters (apologies if I did not get the name correct) snowmobile club. The trail runs through sections of woods, frozen swamp, over fields and on old railroad bed in places. <br />
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I stopped off the trail a tad to get some shots of ice fishing houses on Long Lake. My family used to go swimming in this lake when I was a pup.<br />
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No need to get out of your warm truck until you are right at your door! The lake has about 20" of solid ice and is very safe to drive on as I compose this.<br />
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I arrived in Swanville, 10 miles by my GPS, which cost more than I paid for the sled :) To the left, Pepin Lake. To the right, Swanville. Not sure the population, around 400 or so. Arch rivals to Grey Eagle, just ten miles down the road. I went to Grey Eagle. <br />
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Here I am, at the back door of Red's Irish Pub. Too much bare asphalt to park in front for me! I had a quick draft beer, and went back out. Had to be home by 3 to run some errands with my Dad. Well, didn't have to, but I wanted to! Oh, the yellow bungee cord is holding the console door shut. The latch does not work well, it flops open over rough terrain and then the noise level from the open throated Tillotson carb going WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH gets to ya!<br />
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When I came back out, I looked the machine over to see how things were. Not good! the front bogie wheel assembly had the screws/nuts come out that hold the rubber idler wheel to the flange, and the flange was digging in to the rubber of the track. I had a 1/2" wrench in my pocket, tipped the machine on it's side, and pulled out the assembly. However, I really needed a 9/16" to tighten the track up more to compensate for not having an assembly in there. I did not, so I took it really easy going home on the acceleration and braking as the drive cogs would slip and "ratchet". <br />
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BELOW: To the left is Burtrum, to the right, back to Grey Eagle.<br />
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Not another soul on the trail this Friday afternoon! </div>
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On the way back, I saw this rig in the parking lot of the Bruno's Hub Supperclub (great food and drink specials folks, overlooking scenic Long Lake!) and thought I'd get a pic to put the differences between modern snowmobiles and my '73 in perspective. Look at the suspension travel on those things! But I bet I don't have the payments they do! <br />
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Look at this old bus! I started elementary school in 1973, and the busses were orange. I do not know at what point yellow became the standard color. This may well have been a bus I rode, I recall the first couple years driver Walt Baird at the wheel, a 48 passenger "THOMAS" bus. F700 Ford, two speed rear axle. And the inside was always that sky blue color. The windows all rattled, we had more miles of washboarded gravel in our township than paved for sure. This one was clearly taken from bus duty long ago, and appears to have some sort of a hunting camper type conversion done to it. Did not see a license plate, but she looks to have not seen the road in years. <br />
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Home again! I went 19.43 miles, and hit a top of 44.6 mph along the way. <br />
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The rest of my collectibles (har har) a 1976 John Deere "300" in the green and a 1971 Moto Ski "Capri 338" in orange. The Moto Ski came to me missing it's original "Hirth" single and had a single cylinder Rotax 10 horse, 247cc in it. Ran great but topped out at about 17mph! I bolted in a 335cc Rotax, 20 rated HP. <br />
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The camper is an old 12 foot "Mallard" brand. Has some water damage inside, may fix 'er up one day.<br />
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Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-59800655850601799382013-01-13T20:47:00.000-08:002013-01-13T20:47:46.428-08:00Haulin' off the scrap metals on a Saturday mornin'<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> Time to clean out the stash. I crush all the beer cans drained in Jethroland throughout the year (well a few sodapops too, have to mix the booze with somethin'...) and sooner or later they have to be hauled off. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also pick up old marine batteries I find left on the docks at the marinas I end up working at, and whatever other odds and ends I have. In this case, the remnants of the old gas grill from last April's post, a rusty file cabinet and the like. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now it's not like the yard is a giant scrapyard, I have an "area" behind my shed and fence unseen by others, well unless they crawl over a fence. So I loaded up the S10 and off we went.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyg3s27ig9Z-TEwPcbpIlKmaIwl9vcuKqAonMjilQG8jtYGGSpRnahXCJQarT_J7M3J8wXN_qylUo4JoAAKLLlkIiBK3nk_T-WjpeCYW8iQ4pru1XPOcTPJLuWS_NguFH9p1IhMpspkbQ/s1600/Scrap+cleanup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyg3s27ig9Z-TEwPcbpIlKmaIwl9vcuKqAonMjilQG8jtYGGSpRnahXCJQarT_J7M3J8wXN_qylUo4JoAAKLLlkIiBK3nk_T-WjpeCYW8iQ4pru1XPOcTPJLuWS_NguFH9p1IhMpspkbQ/s400/Scrap+cleanup.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was a line!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There goes a year of beer up the conveyor! I think I had more than 23# of cans though, there was another guy unloading at the same time as me and I think there was a mixup. However, I wasn't going to make a big deal over a few bucks, especially since I had 615# of batteries that cost me nothing but time to pick up. The receipt is down below, I scanned it. They didn't take the old catalytic converter from my wife's car as I needed to cut the steel pipes from the inlet/outlet, nor would they take my heavy aluminum storm door as it still had glass in it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As bugs said, that's all folks!</span><br />
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Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-40295240267638966312012-12-12T19:29:00.000-08:002012-12-12T19:32:29.137-08:00Free Small utility trailer- near FINISHED!<span style="font-size: large;">After a couple hours with a wire wheel on a grinder (wear saftey glasses folks!) knocking loose rust off and giving it a good coat of "Ospho" to convert the rust (iron oxide) to iron phosphate, treating the metal to prevent moisture and oxygen from reaching it (this is from Ospho literature), I sprayed some paint on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Ideally I'd have flipped the trailer over and done some grinding on the bottom side, and had the expanded metal tailgate sandblasted, but time and budget ruled that out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used an industrial enamel from NAPA stores, sold under the Martin Senour brand in a dark machinery grey color. The first coat was sprayed late on a Sunday afternoon, and before the paint dried the temp dropped from 65* to about 50* and heavy dew settled. The next day I came home from work and looked at it, the paint had dried totally flat. So the next Saturday here on the west side of Savannah we had unseasonably warm temps for early December. 76*, and I sprayed on a second coat. This came out nice and shiny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also welded up some guards from 1/8" flat steel to keep the tail lights (hopefully) from getting broken off. I then installed new LED tail lights. The kit was about 25 bucks from Harbor Frieght tools, I didn't keep really close records. I however did not use the cheesy "scotch lok" wire connectors, they pierce the wire and don't seal it. I used butt connectors and shrink wrapped 'em.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, that is a shitty weld on the top of the guard. I know. My Hobart 135 MIG machine was giving me fits, and it normally about welds itself. I'd strike an arc, the arc would cut out, and back in, like a machine gun. I later found the problem- the small leads from the trigger contact go through the main cable with the liner and wire for the feed, then come out in a small loop right outside the body of the machine. In my moving the machine around or putting things down on the bench it sits on, the small leads had gotten nearly cut through. So each time I struck an arc, the amperage would build (it was only contacting on one or two strands) and then it would loose the connection, and effectively cut off the weld. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All fixed now. Here it is with the new lights on. Still to do are some longer, heavier saftey chains, and put some plywood on the sides. Oh, and fill out the form and get it registered! Until then, I'll hang my boat trailer tag on it if I need to use it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's a couple "befores!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-66454125896070487162012-11-27T20:11:00.000-08:002012-11-27T20:11:09.850-08:00Free utility trailer revamp part II<span style="font-size: large;">Now that it's November and the summer is gone, I have finally gotten back to updating the blog on this project that I started last June.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In early August, I finally got over to Steve's (the donor of the rusted relic) place with the replacement axle, and mocked it up in place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My pal Phil gave me a pair of 15" rims with good Continental tires on them from a Ford Ranger pickup. These have the same 5 lug on a 4 1/2" pattern as the trailer axle hubs. I slid the axle in over the springs and put one wheel on, positioned it where I wanted it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcn_ksT0Z8HIh1fCX-1iWi5dV5oNuegWfjvveaXoQlUhy0wQFE8Y8wzpRpwq26rGms49-3kXldvCcrVfaP1pxfbxbbq4Q5uLiZFAabdjdd9axlUiz5N_HZkzJ65Gij_JtCCyCWxmahLtw/s1600/Trailer+project+and+possum+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcn_ksT0Z8HIh1fCX-1iWi5dV5oNuegWfjvveaXoQlUhy0wQFE8Y8wzpRpwq26rGms49-3kXldvCcrVfaP1pxfbxbbq4Q5uLiZFAabdjdd9axlUiz5N_HZkzJ65Gij_JtCCyCWxmahLtw/s640/Trailer+project+and+possum+002.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I "C" clamped the axle to the springs, and made a measurement from the center of the leaf spring to the end of the axle on the side with the wheel where I wanted it. I then went to the other side, and marked it for the spring center-</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KWXa1op-Jwp5E_EC4nQDdKtzaMKm4nvwyfpIrvr8lMZ4wlcyiVF84VUj6Pdj6zfTyYDh7W_VxDjP2tWLXMCVpfXEO35ExS14QDWTuYVrIb3x-66OECYWVGfuiXpHtszTsncpm4xG02k/s1600/Trailer+project+and+possum+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KWXa1op-Jwp5E_EC4nQDdKtzaMKm4nvwyfpIrvr8lMZ4wlcyiVF84VUj6Pdj6zfTyYDh7W_VxDjP2tWLXMCVpfXEO35ExS14QDWTuYVrIb3x-66OECYWVGfuiXpHtszTsncpm4xG02k/s640/Trailer+project+and+possum+004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I went home and several more weeks later (try October!) I narrowed the axle 7 1/4". I used a pipe cutter, made quick work of it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0v5_DTib9a6je45q0rjnl54zqu09wLI4_I519TVZNhFAAVVXGttVAOToRqPSMKyUpD5_y8uSIQpr29v58fCswQ7VtCLcUCi3NOCK4BGbN1lyF3ZSscmK4522WcPNqzn_Q_T2x5eOvqA/s1600/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0v5_DTib9a6je45q0rjnl54zqu09wLI4_I519TVZNhFAAVVXGttVAOToRqPSMKyUpD5_y8uSIQpr29v58fCswQ7VtCLcUCi3NOCK4BGbN1lyF3ZSscmK4522WcPNqzn_Q_T2x5eOvqA/s400/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just sheer concentration on that face.....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And once cut, I had to get it dead straight to weld it back together.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksymSO5UgjCK9SOKoXH9SkA6djAuUhdG2-cPIgmm0hjsTWXST6-jO8uNscRyv8VU-PhEDG-bIzMgzqIkDZ068XT_r1h7I3eqkq-mEcY4X1VzYwB7JSEbhnsckGaho4feQFiKOvnOwXE0/s1600/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksymSO5UgjCK9SOKoXH9SkA6djAuUhdG2-cPIgmm0hjsTWXST6-jO8uNscRyv8VU-PhEDG-bIzMgzqIkDZ068XT_r1h7I3eqkq-mEcY4X1VzYwB7JSEbhnsckGaho4feQFiKOvnOwXE0/s400/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+004.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TFvXFdpYzVjh24op-YpYDJhBvBw5XIDaRjIq_hlOZeOghH14WzhyWQEULm2Zu9VxaZf1Yak1TwHudSV39zGrWAiJN-KqKlGnY8_qm2SyZZgPkqkgwRyAZ8NpNEbUMyOj0sVG_gjBfiU/s1600/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TFvXFdpYzVjh24op-YpYDJhBvBw5XIDaRjIq_hlOZeOghH14WzhyWQEULm2Zu9VxaZf1Yak1TwHudSV39zGrWAiJN-KqKlGnY8_qm2SyZZgPkqkgwRyAZ8NpNEbUMyOj0sVG_gjBfiU/s400/utility+trailer+revamp+and+house+pics+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The axle, as purchased, had some camber to it. I took it out and made it straight. As narrow as it is now and considering it will likely never be loaded close to it's 3000lb rating, she'll be fine. In any case better than the home cobbled truck axle that was in there before. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now where was I? Oh, I took the piece I cut out, cut it in half endwise, flattened it somewhat with a hammer, and used it for reinforcement of the splice. Came out nice I think-</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge06L37FecV8HtYnuFETSmrp7XxBH951xgbqCnO0dGJLZqvTp5yZ7TNF63QrCz2mCSK8MYomlGLASpWa7YPic0ct-mrUgb18m4kr6f6d1x8jbcFbhwt8h_C1Yo-xts673AqVtfnzat864/s1600/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge06L37FecV8HtYnuFETSmrp7XxBH951xgbqCnO0dGJLZqvTp5yZ7TNF63QrCz2mCSK8MYomlGLASpWa7YPic0ct-mrUgb18m4kr6f6d1x8jbcFbhwt8h_C1Yo-xts673AqVtfnzat864/s400/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QH7GIyxgPl2D8s7M-UNaUeTvSKxzOi1V0gkvkklQZIXP3QDigX9ttdRBhITvYpq7p2UAy7f10X85Mm4rQNd43hiKN5ceF_y7hHcianLtqSzuSZzPeMK27V-k3bfaSZkK7oNZme55C_Q/s1600/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QH7GIyxgPl2D8s7M-UNaUeTvSKxzOi1V0gkvkklQZIXP3QDigX9ttdRBhITvYpq7p2UAy7f10X85Mm4rQNd43hiKN5ceF_y7hHcianLtqSzuSZzPeMK27V-k3bfaSZkK7oNZme55C_Q/s400/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVd9sEqXlhT-uxdndV43MMgZXpHwriZ5wCUjH1pXwSO7yW2loLeixtQ4O15myVVH7aJojOG16mwnMKxQSDHYYZvWfsyPp2oB0AqWxRKla0NcZo4-MaJc13DiJkZkoYuJKMV0UQokuz-R8/s1600/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVd9sEqXlhT-uxdndV43MMgZXpHwriZ5wCUjH1pXwSO7yW2loLeixtQ4O15myVVH7aJojOG16mwnMKxQSDHYYZvWfsyPp2oB0AqWxRKla0NcZo4-MaJc13DiJkZkoYuJKMV0UQokuz-R8/s400/trailer+axle+part+3+and+little+joe+010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On a Saturday in mid November I made it back over, clamped it all together, swept out the leaves and towed it home.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPg4L0uCk7B6NgiBpd6CnrN6aGwi3iDfTSPl00CpgUHiAXfjZbVzuSwLY3RULJlp6nVkSmiqWGozCMEnMS6QbIDubgNFim0dRUrp8lzFTz8s2aem6LvoFJ1mulU8bP0bkkGSzyyGwV9U/s1600/trailer+revamp+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPg4L0uCk7B6NgiBpd6CnrN6aGwi3iDfTSPl00CpgUHiAXfjZbVzuSwLY3RULJlp6nVkSmiqWGozCMEnMS6QbIDubgNFim0dRUrp8lzFTz8s2aem6LvoFJ1mulU8bP0bkkGSzyyGwV9U/s400/trailer+revamp+016.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3cWwZp1FHLHvRZ9LTBybJEaZ6ErWAPmYwMPY7496UvB73R8tMrGt8mxU5N-OTRXlp8tjcSgubmvdHSJPBsWKKmk9z9vA5zfj14eMV9U7bqnYyaIrG_m3e2HBLpMLF8p7QpbnCJjOEsE/s1600/trailer+revamp+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3cWwZp1FHLHvRZ9LTBybJEaZ6ErWAPmYwMPY7496UvB73R8tMrGt8mxU5N-OTRXlp8tjcSgubmvdHSJPBsWKKmk9z9vA5zfj14eMV9U7bqnYyaIrG_m3e2HBLpMLF8p7QpbnCJjOEsE/s640/trailer+revamp+017.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I spent some time trying to hammer the fenders into some type of less mangled shape than they were, as well as cutting the brackets and moving them in to better cover the tires and not stick out so far.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">See below, before shot-</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jasyjE5GuxV3XUJ9I2hgL9qAFSoLVOOk67xVbnsmxvUVmnahYM2eb5sTI5bFtBC06VncoFuXpEmkO08Y655GQqfPVyW1ZVWu-XRc7tPJ5-XBu0ZHBbqBQ-kR0g094qGUHpWuoQCX5Ws/s1600/67+oly+and+trailer+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jasyjE5GuxV3XUJ9I2hgL9qAFSoLVOOk67xVbnsmxvUVmnahYM2eb5sTI5bFtBC06VncoFuXpEmkO08Y655GQqfPVyW1ZVWu-XRc7tPJ5-XBu0ZHBbqBQ-kR0g094qGUHpWuoQCX5Ws/s400/67+oly+and+trailer+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And an after-</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgBV2jA63JAQq3fyy1P9H5YYm2HFx7Hj8UUaklXRnBbXZ3MsaeJXCafU7Ylz2W3YnzTck6AJuv3ujxahxCy3__44uCF7b2zeqvhZ41v8DK-DBLFn7O1BsKYTY1wc8h-RDMX6MtLOvKWM/s1600/67+oly+and+trailer+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgBV2jA63JAQq3fyy1P9H5YYm2HFx7Hj8UUaklXRnBbXZ3MsaeJXCafU7Ylz2W3YnzTck6AJuv3ujxahxCy3__44uCF7b2zeqvhZ41v8DK-DBLFn7O1BsKYTY1wc8h-RDMX6MtLOvKWM/s400/67+oly+and+trailer+006.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did not get any pics, but I cut the 1 7/8" coupler off the tounge and welded on a 2 incher so I do not have to swap the ball on my tow rigs, as the boat we also tow uses a 2 incher. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I then pressure washed it, let it dry, and started to use a wire wheel on a grinder to knock the loose, flaking rust off. I treated the rusty metal with OSPHO, a chemical that converts iron oxide (rust) to iron phosphate before attempting any kind of paint. I think it is going to be dark grey in some industrial satin finish enamel. Then to put some plywood on the sides, fill out the GA DMV form for a home built trailer. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That's all I have now, hope to get it finished and wired with new lights in a week or two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-38565416167042841322012-09-08T20:13:00.000-07:002012-09-09T14:22:07.396-07:00Jethros first garage<span style="font-size: large;"> My first garage. The folks sold the place in '87 and moved across the road to other property they owned and built a smaller house, the current owners don't really use it except to store some lumber.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> In 1982 when I was about 15, dad helped me a bit (free material) and I supplied the labor to build the place. Oddly enough, I recall things like the first time I had a hangover or the licence plate number of my first car (DTW 879) but I remember little of the actual construction. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To the left and behind it, you see another shed with a low roof, I recall building that one for firewood storage. We also had our boiler for maple sap in there. That got moved when mom and dad moved. Behind my shop and leaned against the wood shed was the chassis and parts of a 1967 Ski Doo I parted out, along with some bicycles, lawnmowers and such. All is long gone and hauled for scrap. I left home in late May of '85 and ended up in first Florida and now coastal Georgia. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-cW2EDdtfdLNJAByg6bYzcXNFaNiZuDMco63xHS-eAh_Mih8sOAs9XbaSyvrDqQ1Z2sEBXXGp6XvlFfTsKVGuF-hyAeWzgqNSZ7-utyelo1VU0NS_wpfwbWZeab8WOrxoEx4M12pMEU/s1600/scans+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-cW2EDdtfdLNJAByg6bYzcXNFaNiZuDMco63xHS-eAh_Mih8sOAs9XbaSyvrDqQ1Z2sEBXXGp6XvlFfTsKVGuF-hyAeWzgqNSZ7-utyelo1VU0NS_wpfwbWZeab8WOrxoEx4M12pMEU/s640/scans+028.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do remember mixing the cement one mixer load at a time, shoveling in sand, adding the water, dumping bags of Portland cement in, then dumping it in to a wheelbarrow and wheeling it in to the form. I know I did not do it all in one shot. I believe the walls were pole construction and the slab floor poured afterwords. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As one can see it was built of rough sawn boards. If you look closer on the left, you can see a recycled door for entry. There was a potbellied wood stove for heat in the left rear corner. Due to the lack of insulation and paper thin fiberglass panels in the doors, it never really got warm in there on a cold Minnesota night while working on something on the workbench (still there!) along the back wall. "CLASS OF 85" is spraypainted on one of the inside walls. Kinda makes me feel old and rediculous at this point. :)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was about 12" x 24'. At one time there was about 24' more of open pole shed to the right we used to store hay for the critters we had on the place at the time. I guess dad tore it down along with the small barn (constructed about the same, quickly thrown up with rough sawn boards and lots of recycled doors and windows) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My Forney 180 arc welder was wired up with enough cable to reach outside the big doors to do some repair on our various 1940's farm machinery used on our hobby farm (this was the 80's) and it always needed some sort of repair. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9wMZ5t4X2apAn_FdXZ0qpuikBQhDVFw7W0rzH8gumBHYwBYdktdD1VAE5r6IO5WmhqjLPQx0yoLNOza3Gkw0uhwBUx4PudwfT-lLWVc0Ue8h0CF2HJSjgLpiFcUcKaQiKtdXkDswuA0/s1600/5I95K55F53I43Me3F2c7a9a1cbd9f3a631deb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9wMZ5t4X2apAn_FdXZ0qpuikBQhDVFw7W0rzH8gumBHYwBYdktdD1VAE5r6IO5WmhqjLPQx0yoLNOza3Gkw0uhwBUx4PudwfT-lLWVc0Ue8h0CF2HJSjgLpiFcUcKaQiKtdXkDswuA0/s320/5I95K55F53I43Me3F2c7a9a1cbd9f3a631deb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's not a pic of the actual welder, mine was not as nice. Paid $45 for it from a local junk man and with the replacement of a few of the jacks (plugs) it worked great. In fact, it is in the garage (or was) of the current owners of the place. Maybe one day I'll bug him to sell it back to me! I really wish I had more pics from back in the day of the construction or possibly some of the door flung open and tools scattered about, but I had no camera at the time and this was loooong before handheld smart phones could record all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hopefully I'll get back that way in November for some deer hunting and get a few more pics.</span>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-64572411246027651092012-06-26T17:59:00.000-07:002012-06-26T18:44:44.524-07:00Free small utility trailer revampA while back a friend got this trailer along with a Honda quad in exchange for a debt. Now Steve, whom I will call Steve because it's his name, is not one to check things over. As long as it hooked over the ball and the tires not totally flat, he'd use it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPMXTt7MxYFewZ0wJuivg3kIK2WIE5YMCBpKNW2ck8yvllZdZ94SSkucHU-ECyXI9b6FzfQX-biAqu1OMBn_aJiPKh2ozkR4JnWzq_NTrNkjkopGBNqKHyWBUgnTYxtelVF_HTs6Uu5Y/s1600/Trailer+project+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPMXTt7MxYFewZ0wJuivg3kIK2WIE5YMCBpKNW2ck8yvllZdZ94SSkucHU-ECyXI9b6FzfQX-biAqu1OMBn_aJiPKh2ozkR4JnWzq_NTrNkjkopGBNqKHyWBUgnTYxtelVF_HTs6Uu5Y/s400/Trailer+project+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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All was fine,and for several uses he did not get pulled over for no license plate or the broken lights, but coming back from the hunting club he belongs to he felt a vibration and the left wheel was about to come off...he got it off the road until I could come assist him with a larger trailer he had borrowed from his work, and we were able to winch it aboard. It was dumped in his yard for about a year. .And the yard taketh over....<br />
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Steve asked about getting rid of it and said he was thinking of cutting it up for scrap.......the scrounge in me knew with a new axle and some elbow grease with a grinder, some paint put on, I'd have a decent trailer. Georgia is pretty easy to register a homebuilt and does not title small trailers so the lack of paperwork won't be an issue here. Just fill out a form from the DMV, provide reciepts for materials and get it inspected by a cop (and signed off on) ane you are good to go<br />
Now this 4x8' rig was likely home built or done by a pretty good welder. Steel floor and made with what looks like 1/4"x2" angle framing under the floor, and well braced. A nice, crank up swing away jack on the tounge. But the axle setup is a bit funky. It appears to use floating hubs from a truck, though I can't think of what manufacturer used five lug hubs (most are 8) on this setup. I think they took a rearend from a truck, pulled out the actual axle shafts, and cut the axle tubes to eliminate the pumkin with the ring/pinion under there, and used more angle to splice the two together. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zc3DnYsUu3PiHOL0C4Vfl1_RLYrWZ9OkJWZMp0RaxY_6aq03PatagMgTiGCJAUTPdSoQRIRNXTeIUZr-X-RLxn7RmQ60CQZfYimmTfkXFywykHN231gljsBzh4Zam2uvC6k39T170NE/s1600/Trailer+project+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zc3DnYsUu3PiHOL0C4Vfl1_RLYrWZ9OkJWZMp0RaxY_6aq03PatagMgTiGCJAUTPdSoQRIRNXTeIUZr-X-RLxn7RmQ60CQZfYimmTfkXFywykHN231gljsBzh4Zam2uvC6k39T170NE/s400/Trailer+project+006.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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When the bearing failed, it chewed the hub and spindle up. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOE6_0AZFQRLnlRKH0G1eT-PjN6x8my4NAn8M1vVdZcdUBveWK79p8QPdr4QIfMJjEhxezVCXagnp9TyN3R5vGxbgeHbo3lMTiCXNElKR7gwnolDnNr4L_EYguomc3XhAoQfEEP1FhCI/s1600/Trailer+project+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOE6_0AZFQRLnlRKH0G1eT-PjN6x8my4NAn8M1vVdZcdUBveWK79p8QPdr4QIfMJjEhxezVCXagnp9TyN3R5vGxbgeHbo3lMTiCXNElKR7gwnolDnNr4L_EYguomc3XhAoQfEEP1FhCI/s400/Trailer+project+008.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I went over last Sunday and managed to drag it from it's Kudzu prison, jack it up and get the old stuff mostly cut off before the rain came.<br />
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Those nice, heavy springs are likely from the truck the setup came from. <br />
I priced 1 1/4" spindles, hubs and bearings from Northern Tool, which is about the most inexpensive place to get stuff, but once I added shipping I was over 100 bucks. Then I was at Tractor Supply getting some gardening stuff and saw they had a complete, 3000lb assembly with hubs etc for $159, and I had found a $25 TSC gift card from two Christmases back in my night stand. Game on! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGUMt0aZzkeQqV4aHn3JULIEqfzWFqlDBG0nrNmXLw51cy2BSuSumYvRHaT4QgoCiS9c3CxfY135bdeoPpmTDy-PtRcPeSz3Q7YP6gquaPH-eZd6lAId8gj4x6Bj4HUAHVe91-ykP2PE/s1600/Trailer+project+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGUMt0aZzkeQqV4aHn3JULIEqfzWFqlDBG0nrNmXLw51cy2BSuSumYvRHaT4QgoCiS9c3CxfY135bdeoPpmTDy-PtRcPeSz3Q7YP6gquaPH-eZd6lAId8gj4x6Bj4HUAHVe91-ykP2PE/s400/Trailer+project+012.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I will have to narrow the axle to fit, it's 72" to the bolt flange for the wheels. I have a pipe cutter to do a nice cut and section out what's needed. I will put a wheel/tire on, get the wheel centered in the fender on one side, "C" clamp the axle to the spring, and measure from the outside edge of the spring to the end of the axle, see what is sticking out on the other side and measure the difference. Of course I will have to cut the spring perches off and transfer them. <br />
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Of course, I told a guy I know about it who automatically said "Why don't you just buy a new trailer...." I don't know why I even talk to some folk!<br />
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I have been given a pair of chrome Ford Ranger 15" rims with decent tires for this as it has a pretty standard 5 lug on 4 1/2" bolt pattern. I figure that I have $134 in the axle as is, I will need some U bolts, some lights, plywood and paint, and estimate $300-350 max in this when it's all done. And I will have a nice, heavy capacity rig for it's size. <br />
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TO BE CONTINUED!!!!Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8588201996510159658.post-48538884113332929782012-04-12T20:10:00.000-07:002012-04-13T03:48:30.581-07:00Time to re-grill!It was time. The Char Broil gas grill I got for Christmas in about 1993 had finally outlived itself. Oh, I am sure it could have won some awards.<br />
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"Most patched with tin and pop rivets" or "Most burner replacements" over the years. But about 10 months ago, the fourth burner fell through the third bottom patch. At the time, I just left it alone. I'd brought home an "Aussie" brand charcoal grill, left by the dumpster in a marina I was working at one day. <br />
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But back to the gas job. Here is an overexposed pic. I guess I need to look in to a new camera too!<br />
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The side burner was about to fall in. <br />
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The replacement was found at a local Lowe's store. A Char Griller "Grillin' Pro" 3001. Just $169, and it was assembled!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiprUQ5dASx-5RdOgKFbTQswiDL6aH12J3A2RUsX1xWOxy1lgX7iXmp_FsVTMzCiLbcmo7Y9nyTZ91nb2FYDjICmyl6mjbknbi1I_0wUG2Fu32gknVlgDBGsNqSmgavI-UuT4QTqFx-DI/s1600/Spring+2012+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiprUQ5dASx-5RdOgKFbTQswiDL6aH12J3A2RUsX1xWOxy1lgX7iXmp_FsVTMzCiLbcmo7Y9nyTZ91nb2FYDjICmyl6mjbknbi1I_0wUG2Fu32gknVlgDBGsNqSmgavI-UuT4QTqFx-DI/s400/Spring+2012+017.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Much sturdier built than it's predecessor, this uses three ceramic burners and there is an optional firebox that goes on under the shelf to the right for use as a smoker. <br />
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Now I love my charcoal grilled meats, but we use this gas job like an oven. Our house has no shade over the kitchen, and on those brutally hot south east Georgia days that room is easily 5-8* hotter than the rest of the house, so firing up the gas stove just adds to the situation.<br />
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This is where the gas grill comes in. We use it as an oven. Last night? Tossed a frozen pizza on a pizza stone, tonight, stouffer's lasagna! Two burners on low made 360* on the gauge. <br />
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And here it is! </div>
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I also grilled some venison chops on it the other night. Mmmmmm! The side burner works great for making a pot of boiled peanuts too. :)</div>
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That's all I have for right now. </div>Jethro's Garagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541187774165454161noreply@blogger.com0