This is what happened to a clutch mounting bolt.
This is what hell looks like.
This is what I have to say about it.
First I wet myself. Then I swore. Then I swore more. Finally, because the event merited it…I began swearing in different languages, varying octaves, and I think I started foaming at the mouth. I. Was. Unhappy.
Unfortunately I wasn’t actually struck dead by my stupidity. Since swearing and prayer hadn’t worked I had to think of something else. A run to the parts store (they’re getting to know me) and I had my emergency extraction kit.
This is usually where things go from bad to worse.
Extractions never go well. Soon the drill bit broke.
I have cleverly stored the tip of the bit on the left deep in the flywheel of a tractor.
At this point you’re “all in”. From now until the moment you get the broken bolt AND THE DAMN BROKEN DRILL BIT out of the engine you’ve transformed a potentially valuable engine into a smelly paperweight. I was doomed.
I took a break and drank some rum. I wondered if I could set fire to the tractor and move to Guam? But alas I had to go back into the garage and face my nemesis.
I used the “easy out” which are never easy and don’t always come out. I swore a lot. That seemed to lubricate it.
I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life!
Then I fished around in there and swore some more. Through some miracle I retrieved the broken drill bit tip. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t cooked yet.
I feel like I've just defused a bomb.
Finally I checked the threads. I didn’t even touch them. (There is a God!)
Now, after working half the day…I’m precisely where I was when I started this morning. Yet, after the bolt mishap I’m ever so grateful.
I’m on the porch now and drinking more rum. I can’t face the tractor.
There’s always tomorrow.