Another Homestead Project Approaches the Finish Line: Part 0

“The middle spindle was all goobered up…” An earnest young man for whom I have tremendous respect was speaking to me. Unfortunately, it was bubbling past my subconscious. I was looking at the welding work.

“Spectacular!” I ran my hand along the support structure. It was exactly unlike me, understated, adequate but not overbuilt. Subtle even. Was that a tear in my eye?

“Yeah the metal that holds the spindle was all bent and the spindle was shot. I had to hammer it flat, just to get the mount point straight enough to install the new part…. And it wasn’t easy.”

Hmm… this is like those times when my wife is trying to tell me something. There’s a point here. The guy is a damn fine small engine mechanic. He doesn’t tell me shit is hard to do just to brag. There’s a reason… but look at that fabrication!

“You mounted it low. Very good thinking. Looks practically OEM. I like the setup. Better balance. I’ll kill a lot of shit with this baby!”

“Thanks!” The guy practically blushed. In the world of small engine repair, I suspect there’s not a lot of effusive praise to be had. Then again, I’m probably the only guy who’s showed up with a fabrication project in years.

“You should do this on the side. You did great.”

“Aw shucks, thanks. Maybe I’ll take a photo.”

I grabbed a battered old digital camera to take a photo just as he reached for the smart phone which is apparently issued at birth to anyone younger than me. He glanced at my camera as if I were carrying around a hybrid of oil paints and an abacus. I sighed, I still have a 35mm camera and can’t let it go.

“I like how you moved the hitch back. That’ll help a lot.” I pointed to the machine to distract from my cheap ‘pay per minute’ phone.

“Yeah, also on the towed engine there was a bad spring.” He waved at the battered machine. “I couldn’t source a replacement.”

No parts? Those commie bastards!

“I snipped off the end, then bent the coil one more wrap. Seems to work. That took some doing too.”

More warnings. Somewhere in my mind klaxons were going off. But what could it be? The new fabrication was awesome, the beast was shot and needed servicing, the towed rig was shit since the day I got it (used) and it was a miracle he’d got it running again. Everything was puppies and rainbows.

Then he shuffled away and someone else handed me a paper. It was the bill.