A must-read blog for anyone who feels as though their shop projects have overwhelmed them. You ain't got nothin' on me...
The musings of a cantankerous over the hill greasemonkey who, though already old, is rather old for his age. I'll bust greasy knuckles out in the garage or argue politics with anyone who will stand for it....
While at a fundraising auction at church today, I just couldn't resist picking up this little beauty.
This "Flying Dutchman"(I know.. how could I NOT buy it)was an advertising display (solid copper) that would have been found in a Moline Plow Co. dealership. I would estimate it to have been made around 1890 +/-. Originally, he had wings and held an ear of corn in his raised arm.
This statue for reasons nobody knows was stashed under a stairway in the church years ago. It had been sitting outside the back door for the last few years.
Here's an old print ad with a better image of what he looked like originally.
When I finish painting the tool room I think he'll look good on a shelf in there.
The shovel came off the lift Sunday as was fired up for a lot ride. The 98" motor runs STRONG. Compression is ridiculous. The stock starter only occasionally rolls the motor and kick starting is a major chore.
Read a passage today that I think I have written in my own mind or maybe told this story after a few beers to people that probably didn't want to hear it. It's amazing how insightful we think people are when they think like us...
"Every machine has its own, unique personality which probably could be defined as the intuitive sum total of everything you know and feel about it. This personality constantly changes, usually for the worse, but sometimes surprisingly for the better, and it is this personality that is the real object of motorcycle maintenance. The new ones start out as good-looking strangers and, depending on how they are treated, degenerate rapidly into bad-acting grouches or even cripples, or else turn into good-natured, long-lasting friends."
Messed around trying to find some cheap drag pipes for the shovel. They wouldn't have been my first choice but I wanted to get something on quick to run. Well, the cheap pipes I thought would fill the bill came and didn't fit. Toledo Craigslist to the rescue. I found some new tru-dual headpipes and if you know me, you know there's always a few fishtail straights in a pile in the corner...
Can anybody guide through the haze on this goofy honda. I believe it's a 1978 Twinstar 185. I have a new battery in it (6V). I have absolutely nothing working. If I jump over the lugs with a screwdriver on the solenoid the starter rolls, but that's it. No lights, no horn, no turn signal, no ignition. Is there a master fuse in here I'm not finding? Last year I took apart all the conections I could find to clean and reassemble. No change. My neighbor wants his bike back that I told him I would fix two years ago.... ;^}
This will be an attempt to chronicle my activity as a stove-up wannabe mechanic/machinist in rural Ohio that must feed his true passion for being in a dirty tshirt and jeans by putting on a starched shirt and tie by day to provide for my family and keep sufficient disposable funds available to feed my need for more old discarded junk to tinker with and otherwise clutter my day to day living.
This is no small thing, to restore a republic after it has fallen into corruption. I have studied history for years and I cannot recall it ever happening. It may be that our task is impossible. Yet, if we do not try then how will we know it can't be done? And if we do not try, it most certainly won't be done. The Founders' Republic, and the larger war for western civilization, will be lost.But I tell you this: We will not go gently into that bloody collectivist good night. Indeed, we will make with our defiance such a sound as ALL history from that day forward will be forced to note, even if they despise us in the writing of it.And when we are gone, the scattered, free survivors hiding in the ruins of our once-great republic will sing of our deeds in forbidden songs, tending the flickering flame of individual liberty until it bursts forth again, as it must, generations later. We will live forever, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, in sacred memory.-- Mike Vanderboegh, The Lessons of Mumbai:Death Cults, the "Socialism of Imbeciles" and Refusing to Submit, 1 December 2008