Adaptive Curmudgeon

Some hours later the sun is up. Things are bright but the light is diffuse and unfocused. It’s light without source or warmth. The wind’s fury has not abated, but rather increased. The sky is a swirling cacophony of ice crystals. Stare at it too long and you lose perspective. There is no depth or horizon.

Nothing living can be seen in any direction. Except snow laden and iced up trees. I’ve probably lost a few trees to this blizzard but they’re too far back in the woods to be visible.

Pondering the broken doorknob, I ask Mrs. Curmudgeon if she’d like to join me on a trip to town. She opines that only a madman would go out there today. Challenge accepted!

I dress like I’m going to run a trap line, give my diesel a huge amount of time to warm up, and bravely sally forth. I don’t technically need 4×4 to get out of the driveway but it’s not overkill. It’s the perfect amount of technology for conditions… on the driveway. On the dirt road beyond my land it gets much worse. I now I absolutely need 4×4. Unlike an SUV, I have a real 4×4. I switch into low range and give the transfer case plenty of time to engage.

Here’s something a lot of folks might not know, if your vehicle doesn’t have a low range, it’s more a grocery getter than heavy equipment… not that such a thing is bad. A good grocery getter is a great thing. But it’s not as tough as the advertisements would have you believe. In practical terms, most use of 4×4 low range in America is from jeepers having fun on a muddy trail; completely reasonable entertainment but not a practical thing. But for me, right now, low range is damn well appreciated.

The snow has drifted and it’s pretty deep. Some glorious patches of clear deeply frozen roadbed are scoured clear. These are interspersed with bumper deep drifts. Luckily, it’s so cold the snow is formless powder, dry as a bone, shifting and listless.

I methodically cross each drift in turn. Pause, assess the situation, aim carefully, think a minute, then punch the accelerator and cross the Rubicon without doubt or hesitation. This isn’t my first rodeo. The heavy truck blasts through admirably.

It’s fun! The cab heat is appreciated too. Compared to my house, the truck is toasty. I take off my fur hat and it’s a delicious luxury just to be “outdoors” without freezing.

Even though I’m having fun, I’m careful. A walk home in these conditions, even a very short one, isn’t tragic but it would be far too memorable for my tastes. Always be aware of the arena in which you play. This is God’s arena. It’s OK to have a little fun but never forget you’re meddling with dangerous forces. I’m just a smart monkey with an expensive vehicle. All that stands between me and a very hard day are the mechanics of a truck built by a company that needs a bailout every few decades and whatever traction the tires can muster.

Then again if I watch another second of TV, I’ll go mad.

Just as I need 4×4 to get down the road I need to spend a few hours out of the house!

After several dozen amusing and only moderately risky drift busts, I make it to the paved road. The paved road is clear. Not clear from plowing but scoured by the wind. It’s spotless almost at the molecular level.

All is not smooth sailing though. The wind is howling. Once again, my ridiculous, overpriced, high maintenance, over-engineered, behemoth earns its keep. It’s all well and good to joke about huge powerful trucks as “compensating for something”, but it’s a joke told by suburbanites who are not on this road, in these conditions, traveling as I am right now.

There’s not much traffic. A log truck here and there and that’s about it. The few personal vehicles out there are trucks like mine. Most of them sporting a snowplow such as I covet but cannot (or will not) afford.

The lack of vehicles isn’t due to the conditions on this road. It’s due to the heavy drifting on all the small feeder roads. For the next several miles, the traction is good and the visibility is decent. The crosswind is very strong but crosswind rarely bothers me. Duallies suck at traction but their squat wide stance makes them great against crosswinds. I sail through conditions that are beautiful and menacing, all while luxuriating in the dash heat; which far exceeds any heat in our firewood bereft house. I find myself humming. I’m warm, it’s peaceful to use a machine for what it was made. I don’t bother with the radio, it would just be shitty pop and shitter politics. Instead I watch the snow and listen to the engine’s counterpoint to the wind. I like to drive.

It’s almost too soon when I get to town. I liked that heated cab!

Stepping back into the maelstrom, the wind rips the truck door from my hands and I’m almost surprised it stays bolted on. Canted at an odd angle I waddle to the hardware store and buy a doorknob. Cheap at any price.

Then I trundle across town, pick the restaurant with the best heat and eat the longest breakfast possible. While braving the 50 paces back to my truck I covet Mrs. Curmudgeon’s vehicle’s remote start. This goes away when I’m back on the open road and the squat heavy truck shrugs off wind which is, if anything, even worse than before.

[This isn’t meant to be an ad, it’s a reminder for myself. Ignore this post at will. No pressure. I mean it.]

[Also, don’t fret. Winter vignettes will return soon.]

I never post an Amazon link to “a thing you might want to buy” unless I’ve personally bought and/or tested it (or an identical item). (Occasionally I’ll discuss an experimental idea I’m considering, but I’m always clear if I’m not fully informed.)

Also, I’m a cheap bastard. I expect every little purchase to be awesome. Being the kind of guy who’ll suffer a long time before I’ll buy a “luxury” and an almost unAmerican anti-consumer nutcase who’ll research an $8 purchase more than some people ponder buying a new car leads me to discover a few things I want to share.

On the other hand I’m easily distracted.

The upshot is that I often buy something I like but by the time I get around to blogging about it the details are forgotten. As a memory aid (and not a crappy subliminal ad!) I’m putting links to some items of interest here. No particular order. My idea is that whenever I get to blogging about it I’ll cut and paste from this post.

Don’t feel obligated to buy anything. If you’re tapped out, I get it. It’s been a long cold hard winter and I’m going to emerge from it as poor as a church-mouse. If it’s happening to you too… you have my sympathies. Also, I don’t want this place to get overly “salesman-like”. That’s why most of my blog is pure text.

Then again, if you buy anything from any link on my blog (regardless of if it’s the item I linked to) I get a tuppence and a pat on the head from Amazon. I will never turn down free money.

Ignore or read as you wish. Probably all this stuff will get discussed in detail sometime in the future anyway.

The season of death drags on. Cabin fever ratchets tight about our souls and tempers flare. We tiptoe around each other and peer at the calendar; is it not March?

Man and machinery, infrastructure and industry grind ever slower as ice hardens within the gears of modern life. We are merely smart monkeys (with only a passing association with smart) and we monkeys need tools to thrive. Without them we’d be forever caged and miserable on the Savannah; huddling fearful in the night, backs to a fire and spears aimed outward toward predators which outclass us. Without machines, my house and all around it for half a thousand miles, is uninhabitable. Whether one acknowledges it or not, it’s simply a fact. We always have and always will lean heavily on our immense assembly of mechanical force multipliers. Yet, only a very few of them were designed for extended use in current conditions.

In a temperature out of spec for the implements of humanity, civilization fades. Time starts to burn. Palliatives wear thin, the liquor cabinet runs dry, books are no longer interesting, conversation is stale, Netflix and all the crappy TV in creation cannot kill the pain of a winter like this. We edge toward the brink.

My woodstove is out cold.

As we ride out the storm, enduring the long bitter downhill slide, things go from bad, to worse, to farcical. When they are farcical is when the spring is nearest and the mind is most loopy. Punch drunk and reeling, the only thing to do is laugh.

I record this inadequate vignette to firm up my memory. I do this for the future; for when the tide changes and life returns anew. I’ll draw upon this memory when some nitwit on a balmy August evening is bitching about mosquitoes. I’ll consult with this memory so I’ll know in my heart I’m doing the right thing when I poleaxe the ungrateful son of a bitch!

…

It was sometime after midnight and yet another windstorm was in full fury. You could feel its fingers prying through our ill insulated and decrepit farmhouse. Alas, the dog needed to go out. Ugh!

I lavish care on my dog, who loves the attention and has earned it tenfold. It would not do to turn it loose only to find a frozen corpse in morning. I hope someday in my old age, should I attain it, people will give the same care to me.

Ruefully but dutifully, I bundle up in a dozen layers to accompany my dog in even the meanest weather. Indeed this night is among the worst. The scouring wind is brutal. It is an almost pathologically ill timed constitutional. Shivering in the intense cold, icy eyes ignoring what is normally a gorgeous sky, I wandered with my good friend and companion. We have only a limited plowed area in which to move. Soon, my dog did its deed. The dog, bred and equipped for the worst of nature, is cold too. It hurries.

Upon returning to the house I found the door wide open. Dear God! In this weather even a moment’s exposure drops the house’s precious internals to unfriendly levels. It is unthinkable I would’ve forgotten to close it.

I investigate the issue. In the intense cold the ground has shifted, as it does. Perhaps the door isn’t sitting well in it’s frame? Swearing, I clear ice from the threshold and slam it home. There’s a confounding issue. The doorknob isn’t turning well. It may be worn out, more likely it’s frozen. Luckily, the deadbolt holds. I turn in for a bad night’s sleep.

The next morning I wake to Mrs. Curmudgeon’s swearing. She gets up earlier than me and this often means the dog, which is now roughly a thousand years old in human years, immediately wants to got out. For most of the time since Christmas this has led to a string of invective from my better half; aimed at not so much my dog as the universe in general.

I’m a light sleeper but a late sleeper. I often wake up, fret about my precious dog, and fall asleep before I’m mobile enough to rescue wife or dog. This time the commotion continues. I shuffle down the stars to see the door is hopelessly jammed shut.

Mrs. Curmudgeon is bludgeoning it and it’s not moving an inch. If there was a house fire, we’d all die… which in the ongoing blizzard seems a pleasant way to go.

The deadbolt works fine but the doorknob can’t muster the twist to retract it’s bolt. Grumbling loudly I grab a screwdriver and work the thing open enough to release the door. The dog makes an urgent run for a snowy place to take a leak, dragging an ill humored wife behind. Bracing against the bitter wind, I examine the doorknob. I could probably fix it, but in this weather disassembling and methodically repairing anything is hopeless. The local hardware store carries doorknobs. It’s not worth the frozen fingers to mess with this one.

As a field expedient repair, I slap on some duct tape to disable it. I call this “the Watergate method”. I wait for dog and wife to get inside and secure the door with the deadbolt. For now we have a deadbolt but no doorknob. These things happen. Outside, the wind is howling and it’s nearly a white out. One needs a good door in such conditions. I shrug and go back to bed.

More to follow…

I love the word “blast gates“. I sense NSA snoops adding my name to a dossier every time I type it. Blast gate, blast gate, blast gate. Russian collusion to make deplorable blast gates!  Testing testing testing one two three. Blllllaaaaasssssttttt ggggaaaatttteee!

Oh that felt good!

[Note: Also something went wonky with my GIMP resize batch process. Some images may be a bit small. If so… um… suck it up. Also if this post never goes live it’s because the NSA has extradited me somewhere scary; like Guantanamo or Detroit.]

Step one to building awesome blast gates is to show proper respect for Betsy, my beloved stove. Get the pot simmering and heat the place or you won’t get far:

The first fabrication step is to rip 1/4″ plywood the right width on the table saw and then cut to length on the radial arm saw… which creates enough dust to motivate you to finish the damn project. (In summer sawdust is less of a problem because I can open the garage door.)

Each gate has an outside upper, outside lower, and an inside “gate”. For people that are weird enough to care, here are some details; the upper and lower plywood bits need to be square (or rectangular if you wish) and large enough to exceed the 4″ hole with a generous margin on all sides. You don’t want to overestimate the strength of 1/4″ plywood. You also need room on two sides for a spacer between the upper and lower.

Got it? Hole for pipe, space for strength, and a little more width for spacers.

The gate needs to be about twice as long and the upper/lower parts. The gate will have one side with a hole and one side without a hole. Make the gate narrower to fit between the spacers.

The upper and lower will need holes suitable to slide a 4″ thinwall pipe into it. The gate needs a similar sized hole to let the sawdust through.

I bought the biggest hole saw I could find (4 1/8″). It was too small to accommodate the outer diameter of the 4″ inner diameter thinwall pipe. But it was close.

Initially, I used a rasp to make it work.

After the first gate was done I had proof of concept on my half assed “design” and wanted to gear up for production. After some bitching about the cost, I bought a cheap barrel sander for my drill press. That made sizing the upper and lower holes super easy. (No need to resize the gates.)

Best $5 I’ve spent since November when McDonalds was selling the McRib.

I very much preferred a hole saw. Using a handheld jigsaw for hacking out fifteen (!) perfect circles to make five gates would suck!

While I was making a mess, I lopped off pieces of 4″ pipe for the upper and lower using my bandsaw; thus filling the air with plastic particles… I was beginning to really pine for a complete dust extraction system. (A hacksaw would be just as good but I was cutting 10 pieces of pipe and feeling lazy.)

I made the pipe bits long enough to easily friction fit any other pipe component I might want. At the moment all I was using were end-caps but who knows what the future holds? I left a little extra length; just in case. I also made sure the cuts were nice and straight and used a utility knife to clean off any burrs from the cutting.

Here’s how it looks halfway though. The pipe fits through the hole (flush with the inner surface) and is cemented in place. Then two spacers are glued on. This is an unflattering photo… most of them went together nice and flush and prettier.

The spacers are wood and the upper/lowers are plywood, so I used Titebond. The wood/plywood bond is solid and easy.

A note about the spacers: I was using 1/4″ plywood and could have used a strip of 1/4″ plywood for the spacer too but the gap for the gate would be exactly the same as the thickness of the gate. Making wood things exactly is asking for trouble. To make it loose enough to function well, I used bits of wood that were slightly thicker than 1/4″. I don’t know if that was necessary, it’s just what I did.

The cap is PVC (?) and it’s fitted to plywood. For a multi-material bond I bought some crazy space goo called E6000. This is good shit! It was smelly and messy but makes a heck of a bond. I’m sure it’s banned in California and kills lab rats at 50 yards. I recommend it heartily but only if you’re cool with the dark arts of yucky chemicals. If you’re a dipshit who never wears protective gloves and sometimes forgets to vent areas, maybe stick with Titebond.

The E6000 label suggested coating the threads with petroleum jelly before replacing the cap. Brilliant! Worked slicker than snot. Why didn’t someone teach me that trick years ago?

Time for a break and a hot beverage.

Things got interesting because bourbon storage matters and I’d neglected this important task. The heat on the stovetop is on the far left of the stove. It’s hot enough to boil water. The far right is pretty chill… but not chill enough. I spaced out and left my bourbon there where it was moderately warm. That was a bad idea. Alcohol vaporizes at low temperature and there was pressure under that cork. Luckily I didn’t let it go too far and launch the cork into the ceiling.

After popping the cork I took a huge whiff and inadvertently sent a snoot of vaporized bourbon straight to my brain. Oh damn was it good! It’s what flowers in heaven smell like! I enjoyed a few minutes of yummy delicious happy fun time. Alas, I think I wasted a bunch of pricey delicious bourbon that escaped the bottle in vapor form. Oh well. No regrets and the cocoa (also with bourbon added) was good too.

After a suitable break to enjoy lunch and vaporized Kentucky heaven, I got back to work. The lower is exactly like the upper. E6000 for the PVC, Titebond (or any wood glue) for the spacers.

As I always do when messing with wood glue, I made a mess. Way heavy chemical E6000 which probably could scramble my DNA and make my left nut implode was no big deal. It just seems natural to me. Cleanly applying wood glue, which should be so easy a chimp can do it, eludes me. I’m always like that. Of course, I cleaned up all the mess so no harm no foul. Be careful that you don’t leave glue clogging up the slot for the gate.

My advice? Steal a roll of paper towels from the kitchen and use all you need.Another view:

Now for the gate. I ripped some scrap strips of 1/4″ plywood and put them on the top and bottom of the gate. The strips are there as a handle and to stop the gate precisely where the hole lines up.

On my first gate I made the strips as wide as the upper and lower… you can see about 3/4″ overhang on both sides. I thought this would look cool. It didn’t. Later I went back and sawed them flush. Much better.

I also theorize the strips make a bit of a seal on one side of the gate… there is some vacuum leakage based on the gap between the gate’s thickness and the spacers (which I made slightly over-thick so the gate would move freely).

It doesn’t seem to matter. This is a sawdust gate and not an oxygen scrubber on the space station.

After gluing strips on one side of the gate, insert the gate in the upper/lower and glue strips on the other side of the gate.

It’s cold out. Stay hydrated.

If your station is based on accepting 2 1/2″ shop vac hose, take an end cap, drill a 2 1/2″ hole in it and use E6000 to cement a receptacle  in place. My hose came from a couple of shop vac parts kits (basically a 7′ extension for a shop vac). The parts kit has a dizzying array of receptacles to fit any shop vac in creation. I found this tube-like doodad in the pile of pieces and it worked great.

This was my choice. I could’ve just glued this straight to the blast gate, but then I couldn’t re-arrange my stations if I change plans in the future.

Speaking of planning, I arranged my stations and taped them out so I could efficiently position Ts in my main sewer pipe.

I left the tape there on my shop floor. Anyone remember Les Nessman’s office?

Test run. Open:

Test run. Closed:

It worked!

All that was left to do was gear up from my a “proof of concept” gate to faster production for the rest. Why not drill all the uppers and lowers in a stack?

And glue things en masse?Aren’t they pretty?

And done!

I have only 3 stations which need 2 1/2″ shop vac hose so I only made 3 such adapters. The other 2 gates are a “spare” (which I capped) and one for my planer.

For my thickness planer I used an appropriate PVC fitting, the other half of the corrugated hose I hacked apart, and a PVC fitting that happens to fit the weirdly sized 3″ collector on my planer. One can fret about friction fits and “loose gates” but I’ve tested it and it catches 99.9% of the mess.
Now you’re done. Clean up all the scrap you can find because the stove is getting hungry and it’s cold out.

Stay warm y’all. Spring is gonna’ come sooner or later.

I’m not the first guy to make a dust collection system and they’re not rocket science but I’m also building something totally foreign to me. I’ve never had access to a privately owned workshop that’s so awesome that it has a dust collection system. Is that a class thing? I sorta’ associate sawdust collection in some guy’s garage as a high end “hobbyists” instead of my usual dipshit mucking about with crap like trying to keep the chicken coop standing. I’m pretty excited to “level up” my shop. It feels like a well deserved luxury. Is it weird to think that way?

I have some exposure to dust collection in commercial workshops and factories. So building one based on my experience is like saying “I spent a week at the OSHA approved loading dock filling semi-trailers, I’m sure it’s similar to retrofit an old barn for loading my Dodge pickup.” I’ve limited experience to build on; which, now that I think of it, makes me as skilled as most politicians. Hopefully my project will work out better than the messes those freaks create.

First, I made a careful plan and accumulated every part I’d need.

Ha ha ha… I had you going didn’t I?

Like any redneck in an area with sparse hardware stores, I bought what I could find and threw it in a pile. The idea being it would spark the imagination with what was possible. Here’s my starting point, a pile of random parts:

Then I mounted 4″ thinwall sewer vent pipe to the wall. I cut a piece of my limited length of actual sawdust collector flex hose, and hooked it to the mounted pipe.

For those of you going ape about static, this means it’s grounded at least as far as the flexible hose location. I promise to extend it further.

I spent forever making sure the pipe was equally spaced from the wall and tabletop level. Given that nothing on my property is flat or level, it took longer than you’d think. Also, I’m going to eventually have to tear down that hideous half rotten paneling. I set it up so I can do so without having to trash the whole system.

Initial install was 10′ long. It dawned on me that an hour after the thing is done that wall would have all shorts of shit leaned against it. (Shops are like that.) So I expanded to about 15′ long… basically the whole wall. Might as well git ‘er done while the area is clear.

One other note, most people mount their pipework to the ceiling. I didn’t. I have mount points on the ceiling that matter to me. I’m forever hoisting this thing or that. Maybe it’s just me but I’m really into suspending weights when I work… it’s a thing that either comes from thinking “outside the box” or having no excess labor or help. I’d spend less time with pulleys and stuff if I’d bother to make friends who could help me move heavy stuff? Nah, fuck that. I’ll be friendless and use physics. That’s how I roll.

I put the pipe at waist level because the floor floods, the ceiling is cluttered, and the suction intake is also at waist level. I assume maximum efficiency if the sawdust isn’t lifted to the ceiling but just moved horizontally?

Once the pipe was mounted I started feeling pride in visible accomplishment. So, obviously, it was time to ignore my fancy new pipe and start messing with finicky little shit associated with the stations.

Stationary machine #1 –  Table saw: It was mounted to an old “table” with no sawdust vent (I just cut a plywood base back in 2018 and bolted it down). It seems like this saw was never designed for a sawdust collection system. (Notice that it’s a Ryobi on a Craftsman table. I mentioned my unique (?) mounting method in Ryostman? Craftoby?)

That’s about 3 months of sawdust accumulation. In a few years it would get out of control. Of course mice got in there too. Damn mice get into everything!

I had to move my drill press and get it back up and running. (It’s been collecting dust in a corner of the barn for years.) Then I treated myself to a 2″ hole saw. I was trying to stay on a shoestring budget but hole saws are pretty handy. (It’s good to have my drill press back though!)

After I cut a hole in the base, I added an adapter that fits a shop vac hose. These universal adapters are very handy but cost almost $8 each. Nickel and dime y’all! I cut it to the appropriate size on a bandsaw.

Since the tablesaw had a shop vac hose hanging out of the bottom, it was time to put a T in the pipe. I also put in other T’s. In this photo the T on the right is for my thickness planer.

Note: posts about the thickness planer and Roy Underhill are below:

• • Crowdsource Question: Do I Need A Thickness Planer?
  • Crowdsource Question: Do I Need A Thickness Planer? Followup.
  • Crowdsource Question: Do I Need A Thickness Planer? Conclusion

You can just barely see the dust collector crammed into the corner behind the drill press (which also had mice in it… damn mice!).

Lesson learned, the pipe was good and solid to the wall but nothing kept it from rotating. I built a lame little cradle of 2″x 4″ too keep it from freely spinning. It’s a dumb solution but it works (so I guess it’s not too dumb).

At this point I had to stop building for a while. It got bitter cold and I couldn’t heat the shop sufficiently to get anything done. More to follow from after it gets slightly warmer. Stay tuned…

A few years ago I spent an afternoon ripping dimension lumber. My shop got so dusty the air was like fog. At some point “toughing it out” is dumb and bad for your health. (Also the dust was screwing up a fiberglass / epoxy project I was working on!)

I decided to do something. (Unlike politicians, when I say I’ll “do something” I actually do it.)

I’m a cheap cuss so I scoured Craigslist. I scored a dust collector that looks almost exactly like this:Below you’ll find a link to it on Amazon. Note: I don’t have that model, I have a older one of a brand I don’t recognize. However, in design and components they seem functionally identical. Both have 1HP motors and I can’t see what would be different about them. If both sawdust sucking machines are 1 HP and suck sawdust adequately what could be different; Fahrvergnügen, Corinthian leather, Martinizing?

I got it for roughly half the cost of buying new. Note: In retrospect (and rechecking my Amazon link) I think I got my Craigslist version for under a third the cost of a new one. I rock!

The only difference between my model (dated 1995) and the one on Amazon is that mine is a different color, a no name brand, and lacks wheels. (I could slap on $15 worth of wheels but so far it hasn’t been necessary. You don’t move a sawdust collector so much as route its function with hose.)

Also 1995 is 24 years ago unless you learned new math in American public school in which case it’s 14 years if you feel it ought to be. 🙂

Like all Craigslist purchases, acquiring it was interesting. After a bit of phone tag, I met some dude in a parking lot a day’s drive from my house. (I was traveling.) I know what you’re thinking when I say “some dude” but this guy was wearing a suit and tie. It was just before a city’s rush hour morning commute and we met in a bank parking lot that wasn’t his office and wasn’t yet open; just a mutually convenient highway exit. He was probably on his way to some corporate CEO gig while I was on my way to freeze my ass in the middle of nowhere.

We unloaded the dusty old collector from his Lexus and tossed it in my Dodge. (Who carries a sawdust collector in a Lexus?) I paid cash. I also reflected how the machine was changing position in the class structure. Destined to an uncertain future in the heart of redneck “frugality”; it left a heated Lexus and wound up stuffed it in a garbage bag and lying on a snowy truck bed.

I stuck up a conversation with Tie-boy (yes, I have biases… lots of people wear ties and he was probably a really nice guy. Also he probably though of me as Bearded Dumbass.) However, there’s a method to my madness, whenever I buy anything on Craigslist I talk to the seller enough to satisfy myself I’m not buying stolen shit. If I smell anything fishy, the deal’s off. I was thinking “who’d you get this collector from”? My initial impression being  he was selling Grandpa’s old shit. Maybe putting the proceeds towards payments on his McMansion, trophy wife, or the Lexus. (I’m terribly biased.)

After five minutes talking it was clear my impressions were wrong. He was quite knowledgeable. Likely he does higher end woodworking (as a hobby) that I could do if my life depended on it. I got the idea he had two separate and independent dust collectors serving a veritable army of expensive stationary woodworking machines. I think he was ditching this old one so he’d have a matched pair of collectors. I think a matched pair of any power equipment is pretty awesome!

It just goes to show you can’t judge the Tie-boy by his Lexus.

At home I was delighted to verify I hadn’t been screwed. It ran great. Also not too loud… which is delightful.

When you fire up a collector of this type the upper bag inflates. (The upper bag is a cyclone area, the dust goes into the lower bag.) The Jet model in the picture has a hanging rod that looks like an IV Bag holder. It keeps the bag in place when it’s deflated. Mine lacks that; probably never had it. I ran it for a while without any bag suspension (I doubt it matters) but just to be sure I eventually strung p-cord from the ceiling to the bag. It looks silly but works great.

The bag had another surprise. Someone had dripped a string of paint dots on the bag. This has no effect on the bag’s function. It’s hardly noticeable…

WAIT A MINUTE! Are those paint dots or blood?

I got out a lens and examined closely. I think they’re blood droplets! I’m not NCIS and I’m not going to send it to a lab and I honestly think “blood spatter analysis” is at best a crude guess (unlike the voodoo magic they imply on TV)… but I suspect my sawdust collector has seen things. (Either that or it’s just paint and I have an active imagination.) Think about it, this machine has spent nearly a quarter century servicing groups of stationary woodworking machines; all are capable of lopping off a few fingers in a nanosecond. Is it totally improbably that someone’s severed pinkie has bounced off this machine? Regardless, the machine works and it’s just a few drops, not something from a horror movie. (I kinda’ like the detail too. It gives it “character” and reminds me to be careful, which is a good thing.)

In case you’re wondering, Tie-boy had all ten. I think. I wasn’t specifically looking.

Back to mundane logistics, the collector is just part of the puzzle. For a while I used it with a single hose clamped to one machine at a time. What a PITA.

For any semblance of convenience, you need to route suction from the collector to all of your dust sources (i.e. your stationary wood cutting/finger lopping machines). Note: I’ve been purposely trying to learn hand tools too. One of the cool things about chisels and hand planes is that you make a lot less dust and a lot less noise. It’s vastly more peaceful. You can go Zen with a plane, but with a table saw you need your head in the game! I try to use hand tools as much as possible. Don’t laugh, it may be a dying art but hand tools are amazingly useful. Some of the time they’re almost as fast (or faster) than power equipment and often they’re more precise. (Hand tools can lop off a finger too, some things are always the same.)

Back at the ranch… I needed to route suction to all of my power tools. The obvious solution for is hose made for that purpose. Duh! In my case 4″ hose. It should look like this:

Here’s the amazon link. And no, I don’t have any cool hose like that .

The nearest place I could find suitable hose is 80 miles away. It was opaque (clear would be much better) and it was expensive. I bought one 10′ section. It worked OK but it just killed me to pay the high price. Even on Amazon you’re in the ballpark of $3 a foot. As you’ll see later, most of my system is based on 4″ thinwall sewer/vent pipe. I lost the receipt but I suspect pipe goes for a buck a foot or so. Roughly 2/3 less than special purpose clear hose.

Setting up a dust collector properly can nickel and dime you to death!

But wait, there’s more. In my case I have 4 machines that are dust makers; a table saw, a thickness planer, a radial arm saw, and a bandsaw. If I route to all four and turn on the suction, it won’t work. It’ll lack the power to clear the machine in use if simultaneously wasting 3/4 of its flow on three currently unused machines.

Enter the device with the best name ever; blast gates. A blast gate is an overly awesome sounding way to say “valve” for your suction hose. The blast gate on vacuum hose functions just like a gate valve on a water pipe. With the delightful twist that you don’t have to get uptight about sawdust. A leaky pipe is a big deal but a little dust leaking out of a fitting in your shop is completely irrelevant. That’s why I built my system to be mostly friction fit together. I’m good with PVC and pipe cementing but for dust I stuffed ’em together like Tinkertoys. That way I can pull it apart if (when!) something clogs. Also I can easily reconfigure if (when!) I decide I deserve (need!) another stationary power tool.

Some blast gates are plastic and look comically chintzy. The grossed me out on principle. Here’s what appears to be a medium quality aluminum model:

Here’s the Amazon link. (No, I don’t have any commercially made blast gates. See the pattern?)

Even if I was willing to spend the scratch, it pissed me off that I can’t buy one within 100 miles of my house. Even the place with the overpriced hose was out of gates. WTF! Everyone in the goddamn world has a table saw and all I wanted to do was “level up” to keep my lungs a bit safer and suddenly I’m shopping for exotic shit? In a world where I can buy 60 kinds of yogurt in any grocery store, how hard should it be to locally stock a few dust collection components? Also, get those damn kids off my lawn!

Lucky for me I’m an Adaptive Curmudgeon. It’s sawdust, not uranium. Also God and Al Gore gave us the internet. There are a million you-tube videos of how to fabricate all this crap. The videos are all made by people who are better woodworkers than me (a few of them may own a Lexus). I watched a couple to get the idea and subsequently made mine entirely as I saw fit.

So, aside from the 24 year old vac and one length of opaque hose, I built everything else from scratch or local sources. I used 1/4″ plywood, adhesive, sewer pipe, and a pile of shop vac accessories I found at the local hardware store. It wasn’t free but I estimate it was well under half the cost of buying new components. Also it doesn’t look too ugly and it seems to work perfectly.

This is the internet so pics or it didn’t happen. Stay tuned.

Somewhere in my pointy head a synapse or two misfired and yesterday (or was it today?) I published a post that was scrambled and had a pathetic math error. I suck!

After I jump-start my brain and going through a lengthy mental warm up period, I’ll repost. It may or may not be grammatically correct on the second round.

A few years back I spent an afternoon ripping dimension lumber. My shop got so dusty the air was like fog. At some point just “toughing it out” is dumb and bad for your health.

I decided it was time to do something. (Unlike politicians, when I say I’ll “do something” I actually do it and 99% of the time the something has a demonstrably positive useful outcome. This is why I feel empowered to mock politicians who equate speech with accomplishment. I invite everyone to join me in belittling the careers of people (of any political stripe) who “do something” until they “do” their favored topic right into the damn ground with “unintended” consequences. But I digress… )

I’m a cheap cuss so I scoured Craigslist. I scored a dust collector that looks almost exactly like this:Here’s a link to it on Amazon. (Note: I don’t have that model, I have a old knockoff. But it sure looks functionally the same.) I got it for roughly half the cost of buying new and I can’t see how a new one would be better. Based on visual inspection the only difference between my model (dated 1995) and the one on Amazon is that mine is a different color and lacks wheels. (I could slap on $15 worth of wheels but so far it hasn’t been necessary. You don’t move a sawdust collector so much as route its function with hose.)

Like all Craigslist purchases, acquiring it was interesting. After some phone tag, I met some dude in a parking lot in a town 250 miles from my house. (I was traveling.) I know what you’re thinking when I say “some dude” but this guy was wearing a suit and tie. It was in the middle of a city’s rush hour commute and we met in a bank parking lot that wasn’t his office and wasn’t yet open; it was just a mutually convenient highway exit. We unloaded a dusty old collector from his Lexus and tossed it in my Dodge. (Who carries a sawdust collector in a Lexus?) I paid cash. I stuck up a conversation with tie-boy thinking “who’d you get this collector from” but he was pretty knowledgeable about such s seen things. Either that or it’s just paint. Regardless, it works for me and it serves as a reminder to be careful in the shop. (Also it’s just a few drops, not something from a horror movie.)

In case you’re wondering, Tie-boy had all ten. I think. I wasn’t specifically looking.

Back to mundane logistics, the collector is just part of the puzzle. You need to route suction to your dust source(s) which is, almost always a machine(s). Note: one of the cool things about chisels and old school tools is that you make a lot less dust. (I try to use hand tools as much as possible. Once you get used to them, hand tools are amazingly useful.)

The obvious solution for routing suction is hose. In my case 4″ hose. It should look like this:

Here’s the amazon link. And no, I don’t have any cool hose like that .

The nearest place I could find hose like that is 80 miles away. It was opaque (I think clear would be better) and it was expensive. I bought one 10′ section and it just killed me to pay that much. Even on Amazon you’re talking the ballpark of 2′ a foot.

Setting up a dust collector can nickel and dime you to death!

But wait, there’s more. You can’t just route to each of your machines. In my case I have 4 machines that are dust makers; a table saw, a thickness planer, a radial arm saw, and a bandsaw. If I route to all four and turn on the suction, it won’t work. I have inadequate power to clear the machine in question and also waste 3/4 of the suction on the other (currently unused) machines.

Enter the device with the best name ever; blast gates. A blast gate is just a “valve” for your suction hose. A blast gate on a 4″ sawdust hose is pretty much the same thing as a gate valve on a 1/2″ PVC pipe. Except, you don’t have to get quite so uptight. A little dust leaking out of a fitting here or there is no big deal. In fact, I built all my system to just be friction fit together. No cementing pipes or permanently affixing Ts and bends… just stuff ’em together like Tinkertoys. That way you can pull it apart if something clogs (and I assume that will happen sooner or later) or to reconfigure when I decide I’ve been a good boy and deserve to get another stationary power tool.

Some blast gates are plastic and look comically chintzy. Here’s what appears to be a medium quality aluminum model:

Here’s the Amazon link. (No, I don’t have any commercially made blast gates. See the pattern?)

Even if I was willing to spend the scratch, it pissed me off that I can’t buy one within 100 miles of my house. I mean, everyone in the goddamn world has a table saw and all I wanted to do was “level up” to something that wouldn’t fill my lungs with dust. In a world where I can buy 60 kinds of yogurt how hard should it be to locally stock a few dust collection components?

Lucky for me I’m an Adaptive Curmudgeon. It’s sawdust, not uranium. And there are a million you-tube videos of how to fabricate all this crap; made by people who are better woodworkers than me (and probably own a Lexus).

So, aside from the 14 year old vac and one length of hose, I built everything else from plywood, adhesive, sewer pipe, and junk I found at the local hardware store. It wasn’t free but I estimate it was well under half the cost of buying new and it seems to work just fine.

This is the internet so pics or it didn’t happen. Stay tuned.

[Note: This post went off the rails. Blame cabin fever. I meant to bitch about modern life and “GET THOSE DAMN KIDS OFF MY LAWN”, etcetera. (Hey, why is “etcetera” not in my spell check? Am I spelling it wrong or is my spell check dumbed down? Hey, why is “dumbed” not in my spell check? A pox on my word-processor! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Take that!)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I drifted into economic planning. Whoops! Just for the record (and the pedantic) the incandescent bulb I wanted is legal. Just because the local hardware store is poorly stocked and on the other side of a snowdrift I got in a spot where Amazon tried to boss me around. I know… first world problems.

Also folks tend to think “Centrally Planned Economy” is government only. Traditionally that’s the way of things (see: USSR, North Korea, Venezuela, etc…) but it doesn’t have to be a government thing. Perhaps, as things evolve Amazon might lead to something similar, or maybe Amazon and its cohorts will be something like an oligarchy? Also, “Centrally Planned” isn’t a new thing; Bronze Age Egypt and the Roman Empire under  Diocletian we’re both “planned”. (Both collapsed hard… but that’s a different topic.)]

The “Curmudgeonly blogging central command center” has an electric heater. It’s one of those 120 Volt / 1500 Watt deals that looks vaguely like a fireplace. The actual heating unit is about the size of a lunchbox and occupies maybe 10% of the volume of the object. The remaining 90% is decorative oak (veneer) “furniture” wrapped around a fake “hearth”. The “hearth” has translucent plastic “logs”. Within the “logs” two small dimmable lights and a rotating reflector make a flickering reddish glow. It looks something like a fire. It’s not the real thing, but I appreciate the attempt at a “cosy atmosphere”. It’s like tailfins on a 1950’s Buick. Pointless but pretty.

Several years ago the lights burned out. The bulbs were probably 5+ years old when they died. They’re functionally irrelevant so I ignored them. Last week, in the throes of cabin fever (which is hitting hard!) I sought to replace the bulbs.

What I extracted from the cabinet were two 40 watt “candelabra” bulbs. I can get them at the local store but the roads are sketchy and that’s why God made Amazon. On Amazon I found a zillion variants of such bulbs. The incandescent ones are still available (a pox on the EPA for fucking with lightbulbs!). Alas they’re generally sold in packs of a dozen bulbs or more. I’ll never use a dozen. All I wanted was two.  This was harder than it looks. Amazon is the great database in the sky and it knows damn well there’s no profit in mailing one tiny little cheapo bulb to a guy in the hinterland. I went around and around the search routines to no avail.

Then I clicked on an LED alternative. Yowza…. that set off an algorithm somewhere! Once I’d clicked on one LED alternative, their search routine snapped its pit bull jaws on my ass and wouldn’t let go. Searches that previously led to twelve packs of incandescent “candelabra” bulbs suddenly gave alternative results… all in LED form.

Fuck a duck; I hate being manipulated! However, I’m not going to fight all progress. Clearly the world, Amazon, the EPA, and probably the Pope are on the LED bandwagon. A 4o watt candelabra bulb ‘aint the hill I’m willing to die on. Also, I could buy a pair of LEDs for less than a dozen pack of incandescents that has ten bulbs I didn’t want. In fact, the LEDs were reasonably cheap. Cheap enough that I no longer gave a shit.

So I ordered 2 LEDs of the type the whole goddamn universe is desperately trying to shove up my ass.

They arrived (free shipping!) and they’re installed right now. They work fine. They have about the same light as what they replaced. Visually, the slightly more expensive LEDs are identical to the slightly cheaper incandescents.

Resistance is futile.

But wait… there’s more! LEDs, in their excessive packaging go out of their way to tell me all about how much more awesomely efficient they are. The old bulbs were 40 watt. 80 watt total for the appliance. The new bulbs are 3.6 watt. 7.2 watt total for the whole appliance.

The EPA helpfully digs up a formula that says I can run each bulb for 3 hours a day at an “average” of $0.11/KWh for 365 days at a cost of $0.43. You heard that right, 43 pennies a year. $0.86 for the whole appliance.

Suppose I was a Gaia killing troglodyte deplorable shithead who insisted on the  Neanderthal technology of an incandescent. In that case I’d spend 11x as much (40 watt/3.6 watt). That means $9.46 a year. From that point of view the LEDs are efficient enough to offset their purchase. The delta between the two is almost as large as a six pack of decent beer.

Maybe on year two the beer would be “free”? But not really!

What’s the waste product of an inefficient incandescent bulb? Heat!

What’s the appliance in which I’m installing these bulbs? A heater!

The heater is variable, it’s on a dial. If two bulbs of obsolete uncoolness are making waste heat it just means I’ll set the heater a smidge lower. I propose that “waste heat” from a heater component is just fine with me! It’ll go (with pretty decent efficiency) to the production of exactly what the appliance is meant for. At a practical scale there’s no drawback whatsoever to inefficient lighting in an electrical heat generating device.

The LED, in this application, is totally irrelevant.

But hey, what do I know? I’m just a redneck in flyover country. If some dude in DC wants to regulate my behavior and some other dweeb running Amazon’s search routine wants to maximize expense (they make their money selling shit!) then I’m just a speed bump bitching about progress. After all, reducing waste heat makes perfect sense on a chandelier in a summertime house of a Kennedy and that’s all that really matters. My cheap ass heater in the frozen hinterland is irrelevant. Right?

This is a tiny thing. Hardly matters at all. Unless of course the same dweebs start mucking about with our media, banking, consumer goods, or medicine… which they all do.

Fuck ’em. I’m an outlier. I can do math, I think about shit, and I’m a rebellious sort. We all should be on the lookout as other people “nudge” us “for our own good”! The person who knows best for you is… you.

As for me, I’m forever incorrigible in my habits. I have oil lamps and the same Amazon order included 3/4″ wicks. I’m sure the EPA (or some safety organization) shit their pants over that one. Next time I’ll see if I can order up whale oil and go old school.

Stand back y’all. I have oil lamps and I’m not afraid to use ’em!