Sherlock Holmes And The Ailing Tractor: Part II

Posted on August 2, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

When my tractor died it expired with a desperate gasp and final shudder.

Sometimes it's best to fix a tractor BEFORE it breaks.

It had been suffering and I had kept using it knowing that it’s mortality loomed.  It had committed the very last molecule of it’s aged being to working for me and I owed it to the beast to take a fair shot at resurrecting it. And, because I’m contrarian (and because there aren’t many mechanics that would’ve done it for me), I decided to do it myself.

Of course I had no idea what I was doing. No worries. Learning new things is what separates humans from lower beings like leeches, bacteria, and cats.

In fact I’m about to spout a patented Curmudgeonly Gem of Insight. Get a pencil and write this down:

What one man can do, another can do.

I was hounded by folks who told me not to try fixing it. They insisted that, since I didn’t yet know how to do it…I never would.

I disagree vehemently! Someone built that damned tractor. It’s not alien technology found in the Bermuda triangle.

Ford Motor Company, Agricultural Division, Circa 1943.

Further, a series of men repaired it for the 65 years it ran. Surely I could take my place in that long line of civilization builders? In fact it’s the right thing to do!

I’m disgusted when people act like repairs and maintenance of anything is voodoo. Human beings in 2011 aren’t inherently inferior to those that came before. If someone in 1944 could build a tractor, why shouldn’t a backyard mechanic in 2011 re-build it? Why not me?

Of course I am admittedly clueless. I knew it would take forever and there might be setbacks. But I was expecting as much. Anything I screwed up would merely be an opportunity to learn that screwing up is a bad idea. Which brings me to another Curmudgeonly Gem of Insight:

“If it is utterly broken. You probably won’t make it worse.”

This is key! Every hand wringing twerp that leaps for the phone and credit card when something goes wrong needs to take a deep breath and…give it a shot. Why not? Mechanical repairs are not heart surgery or bomb defusing. You’ve got more than one shot to fix it and the worst case scenario is winding up with a machine that is; still broke. Which is precisely what you’ve already got!

Knowing I was starting with an engine that was now inert…I tore the poor thing down. I had the block & crank machined, bought an imposing pile of parts, read the manual (twice)…and began tinkering.

I worked very slowly! Labeled everything. Read the manual. Read it again. No sudden moves. Take your time and try not to screw up.

Then, of course, came the interruptions.

Posted in Curmudgeonly Gems of Insight, Garagineering, Tractor Of The Damned | 7 Comments

Sherlock Holmes And The Ailing Tractor: Part I

Posted on August 1, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Rural folks have been noodling around with machinery since the industrial revolution. Some get quite good at it. Farmers might spend more time welding steel and patching hydraulic line than they do planting crops (which is done with equipment made of welded steel plates and hydraulic actuators).

What you're looking at is a tractor in competition to pull the most weight. This tractor was built BEFORE RUBBER TIRES WERE INVENTED. Will there be Prius races in 2091?

Sadly, I haven’t gone far down that road. Mostly I’ve specialized in limping decrepit vehicles long beyond their planned obsolescence. Anything beats payments. (You can’t always keep a heap running forever: I still miss both of my station wagons with the longing that most people reserve for a favored childhood pet.)

I’m not an adept mechanic. I’m merely a modestly competent “parts changer”. This means that if a machine is simple enough I can usually figure out which part isn’t working, remove it, and replace it. That’s not to say I’m a moron, it’s just that I have a realistic evaluation of my skills. Since my skills are weak you’d think I’d be forced to drag my stuff to mechanics all the time. I don’t. Partly because I value self reliance but mostly because too many mechanics are just parts changers like myself. Why pay someone $60 an hour to screw around with a brake caliper when I can (maybe) do it myself?

This isn’t to malign all mechanics. Some of them can deduce complex problems, handle tricky repairs, and (if necessary) fabricate good solutions. They are good mechanics. This leads me to a Curmudgeonly Gem of Insight.

Good mechanics are Gods among men.

If you’re wondering what I’m talking about, you don’t have a good mechanic.  If you know what I’m talking about and have one treat him well and guard him as a treasured secret. We should revere good mechanics. They should have statues in their honor and win awards for their accomplishments. They should have groupies and tour buses.  We need more good mechanics and less of damn near everything else.

In fact this leads on to a “Why Life’s So Fucked-up” (WLSF) Theory (pat. pend):

One shameful reason why Americans are so willing
to finance new cars is the lack of good mechanics.
Getting reamed by an overpriced chimp that mismanages
routine repairs on a seven year old car is the
greatest sales pitch ever invented.

Part of being Adaptive is learning new things. So when my 1944 Ford Tractor died I decided to call it an “opportunity”. (Which is no less obfuscatory than a politician calling a new tax “revenue enhancement” so just let it go eh?)

If this is a 'kinetic military action' then I can call my blown engine anything I damn well please.

I would rebuild the engine myself. In so doing I would learn how to do it again if need be. And, significantly, I’d cross something off my bucket list.

Posted in Curmudgeonly Gems of Insight, Garagineering, Tractor Of The Damned | 4 Comments

When A Poser Meets The Real Deal

Posted on July 31, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Recently I was making fun of Wisconsin’s “springtime of tomfoolery”.

Not too long ago Wisconsin went through it’s own orgy of suck. Madison, the home planet of the kool aid drinkers, just couldn’t take all that dour Midwestern self reliance and went into fits.

You may recall the bevy of  protests sparked when the governor tried to rein in spending?  Cliff notes version: he got most of what he wanted and the protesters (in my humble opinion) looked like spoiled whiny punks.

During the kerfuffle I laid low; leaving the press to wallow in it.  Now that it’s over I keep chuckling to myself.  What were they thinking?  Who protests over job pay and benefits?  (I’m looking at you Greece!)

I might do lots of things when my job sucks but protesting isn’t my style.  Who thinks adults should stomp around waving signs and chanting slogans?

Free men don’t have to protest.  If things go too far, find a better job.  American workers are free to leave any time.  If you can rise to the occasion, walk out the door with a smile and a swagger.

We’ve even got a theme song:

The corollary to this is that if you can’t find a better job, it’s time to practice humility.  Suck it up for the short term and start adapting for a better long term.  (It isn’t easy but the real world never is.)

For fun I wanted to juxtapose real heroes with real reasons to protest with the Wisconsin folks.  I picked Lech Walesa out of a hat.  Now there’s a man who has earned respect!

…it was a fine show.  Teachers with megaphones barking insults at a recently and fairly elected governor standing on solid legal ground?  You have to hand it to the folks at Madison, they really thought a wage reduction for state employees was like Lech Walesa standing up to the Soviets.

Overcoming Soviet domination takes balls. Bitching about your retirement fund contributions does not.

And then, because I’m a busy man, I forgot all about Wisconsin and their goofy protests.  Until today…

Maggies Farm pointed me to Bizzy Blog who noted that Lech Walesa recently declined to meet with Obama.  I hadn’t noticed it because I’d mentally filed the whole trip away as Obama running a few irrelevant “distraction laps” through Europe.

Apparently Walesa had the same opinion.  Money quote:

Courage: Someone who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for actually doing something just snubbed someone who won it for nothing.

Ouch!

Nothing smarts like a poser meeting the real thing.  Walesa has earned respect facing off against the Soviets in a Cold War test of wills that could have gone very very badly.  A coddled community organizing egghead doesn’t belong in the same league.  Politely declining allows Walesa to avoid becoming a prop for another Obama photo op.  Well done sir!

…………………………………………………..

P.S.  When your job sucks I recommend taking the high road (“find a better job and take it”) but Johnny Cash has a different solution:

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My Theory Has A Hole In It?

Posted on July 27, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

In the eternal span of history, I’ve always assumed books on paper weren’t destined to last forever.  How do I know this?  Because it just makes sense that Kirk had a digital clipboard instead of paper.  (Note that we all accept that a captain has to file reports.  Mastering warp drive and curing cancer is believable but a job without paperwork is inconceivable?)

He can have sex with aliens but society isn't advanced enough to dispense with paperwork. WTF?

Despite my assumption that paper books would someday go the route of Cuneiform I think the $139 kindle is not yet a book killer.  Why?  For a myriad dad of reasons but most notably that marketers suck the life out of everything they touch.  If they don’t bog the system with copyright DRM crap, they’ll construe your book as “rented” rather than “owned”, and of course they’ll roll like dogs in the ultimate marketing shitfest; format incompatibility.

Each digital book format will be oh so much cooler than the last.  Right up until you’ve bought the same book six times and decide you’d prefer to stare at the sun until you’re blind than do it again.

It has happened before.  Somewhere there is a person who has purchased the same rendition of Up And Away on 33 RPM LP, 8 track, cassette, CD, and now he has it on iTunes.  The day when he loses his iPod in a Dubai airport is the day he’ll start fondly dreaming of that big cabinet full of LPs he lugged around in college.  Then, ever so slowly, like the setting of the sun, the realization that he’s spent the better part of a car payment on just one song will seep into his bones and kill his soul.

All that money spent on hippies! You could have bought a lawn mower instead!

That is the day he’ll stop buying a goddamn thing.  (Note: I have never spent a single penny on anything performed by The Fifth Dimension but I used to think Marilyn McCoo was hot.)

Which brings me to the example I intended to use against the kindle.  Weeks ago I bought a cheap paperback on impulse.  I stuffed it in my motorcycle saddlebags and forgot about it.  This weekend I dredged it out and spent several pleasurable hours flipping pages on my beloved porch swing.  No batteries, no electronics, no bullshit.

It was published in 1870, originally written in French, and 141 years later I enjoyed the whole story for $6.  E-books have their work cut out for them!

I intended to post that my experience demonstrated why kindles were not yet ready to bury Gutenberg’s machine.  But then I found this link:

A damn fine book! (Even if displayed on an unholy electronic gadget.) (Liked to Amazon. I don't get any money from the sale but neither does anyone else?)

A price of zero?  Good grief!  Maybe I was too hasty?  Hmm…  I’m still not sure.

Today’s digital readers could be the sort of thing that looks gorgeous now but look goofy in hindsight.

What the hell was I thinking?

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People Actually Read This: Part II

Posted on July 24, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

My blog hasn’t quite gone viral.  Nor has it gone feral (unlike my lawn which has been freed from the oppression of my two tractors).  But something happened!

I decided to arbitrarily declare that it has gone trapezoidal.  Why?  Because I like the word trapezoid and it’s my blog so I can say whatever silly thing pops into my head.  (For the right person “trapezoid” causes painful flashbacks to high-school geometry…do I need any other reason?)

My hit counter when from this:

Wheee...

To this:

Roar!

How does one follow up on success like that? I haven’t a clue.

So rather than write something…which is what you’d expect. I’m going to go cut firewood.

Winter is coming, and unlike certain hand-wringing climate theorists, I’m not shocked by weather.  Cut wood when it’s sunny.  Post when it’s not.   It might rain tonight.  See ya’ then.

Update: Cut some wood.  Ran some fence.  Everything is shiny!

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In California, Death Is Never Far Away

Posted on July 24, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Plumbum et Circenses posts this:

(Click image to see source.)

Yes, it’s exactly what it looks like.  A warning printed on plywood that sawdust causes cancer in California.  Sawdust = death!?!

Actually this shouldn’t surprise me.  California exists to give the rest of us something to laugh at.

Like France, California is the punchline to a joke that began long ago.

Everything in California has warnings.  None of which bear resemblance to actual risk.  Luckily, nobody (and I mean nobody at all) takes it seriously.

My last encounter with “Californicated warnings” in their native habitat was a few years ago.  I’d ridden all day through the homage to air pollution and illegal immigration that is the San Joaquin valley.  I stopped at a mechanic’s shop for an oil change.  On the door was the list of things known to California to cause cancer.  It included everything but sunshine and metric wrenches.

Obviously mechanic’s shops have lots of icky chemicals.  That’s why intelligent folks go somewhere else for their picnic.  Only the Sacramento haze of egghead detachment would imply that internal combustion engines need nothing for maintenance but hope, medical marijuana, and rosy assumptions.

The ironic part was that I’d gotten there on a motorcycle.  Yes, I could somehow ingest brake fluid and get sick.  Or I could make a misstep in traffic and wind up fucked by a  Kenworth on I5.  Which one is more likely?

I never liked the San Joaquin valley so I rode hard for a locale more appropriate to my personality.  I spent the night near Furnace Creek in Death Valley.  What a nice place!

Curmudgeons, when sick or injured, will run for open space. When seriously ill I headed for this road. It made sense to me!

They had air conditioning and water.  In a land where the snakes won’t kill you because the heat will have you dead and collapsed over the handlebars first…water was plenty to make me happy.  There were no warnings on anything.  I was happy.  I wanted to stay longer but was out of time.

I was out of time because somewhere amid the San Joaquin smog I’d developed a sinus infection.  It was getting worse by the hour and there are no doctors in Furnace Creek.  (You think you’re tough?  Put on a full face helmet when you’ve got a killer head cold!)

I made like a Cowboy and rode at dawn.  Things would have been much worse if I’d stayed.  None of which involves drinking brake fluid or the zombie death sawdust of Sacramento’s id.  California will kill you with air while warning you about the lead content of your battery posts.  No wonder politicians thrive there!

The rest of the trip was better as I limped along on antibiotics and grit.  I was happier in Nevada and Utah because I’ll take “reality” over useless warnings amid the air pollution any day.  You know the left coast has gone bonkers when deserts, strippers, and creepy polygamists seem conservative and reasonable by comparison.

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Adapt Or Die

Posted on July 24, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Once upon a time I was searching for a particular book.  There was a huge imposing bookstore near my house.  Rather than muck around on the Internet I’d buy from actual human beings in the real world.  Mostly I wanted Instant gratification!

They had coffee, lattes, CDs, maps, gifts, magazines, chocolate, and DVDs, but not the title I wanted.  I asked the reference person to look it up.  Nope, definitely not in the store.

“Fine, I’ll I’ll order it” I said, reaching for my wallet.

“It’ll be two weeks.”  She replied.

Sheesh.  So much for instant gratification!  “OK fine.  Just ship it to my house and I’ll pay now.”

“We can’t ship it to your house.  You’ll have to come to the store to pick it up.”

“Uh…really?”

“Well there’s another way.  You could order it from our on-line store, then it’ll come to your house.”

“Great!  Do it!”

“I can’t.  All I can do is ‘in-store’ orders.  You’ve got to do it yourself.”

“You want me to put my wallet back in my pocket and go home?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re doomed.”

“Why?  What’s wrong with our on-line store?”

“You’re telling a customer to put his wallet away and then go home to place an order from the host of every on-line store in creation?  You’ve heard of Amazon.com haven’t you?”

“Well our on-line store is good too.”

“Yeah but nobody ever got rich telling customers to put away their wallets and go home.”

“I don’t make the policies.”

“Certainly.  Well have a nice day.”  I stuffed my wallet in my pocket and went home.

That night I placed the order with Amazon.  The book was in my hand a few days later.

After that I stopped going to the bookstore in question.  It had become a coffee shop with books for scenery.

Why am I mentioning this?  Because their demise was already a done deal and I could tell with one single book order.  The attitude and business model was a losing proposition.  That encounter was about six years ago.  Maybe the company could have been saved but I doubt it.  At any rate it’s over now.

A.C.

Update: I wrote this several days ago but planned for it to go live several days later.  (WordPress calls it “scheduling” but I like to call it “ghost in the machine”.)  I thought I was the only one who noticed or cared about Borders’ demise.  Luckily The Ultimate Answer to Kings posted an opinion.  Now I know there are two of us.

They always struck me as a good idea badly done.

Farewell Borders; I’d miss them if they’d been a bookstore.

Update 2: Monster Hunter Nation has an admirable take on it too.  Far more inside information than I had as just a customer.  Hat tip to Bayou Renaissance Man.  Perhaps “ghost in the machine” is Curmudgeon Speak for “scooped by everybody”?

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People Actually Read This!

Posted on July 22, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

A few days ago I posted Things You Need To Know Before You Buy The Farm and promptly forgot about it.  I’m used to obscurity.  I expected a few people would read my post, nobody would comment, and my dog would pee on my shoe.

Instead, something unusual happened.  I got a bunch of hits.  Bayou Renaissance Man had linked to my sleepy little site.  The Smallest Minority piled on too.  Huzzah!

Then came links from folks I’d never read before and whom I’m happy to hear from; The Travis McGee Reader, Les Jones and The Mellow Jihadi.  (There may be others too.)  My ego is well and truly inflated now!

All this time I thought I was just pissing into the wind.  Thanks to everybody who linked and everyone who reads this shit my carefully worded essays.

Update:  Another link!  This time from the cheerily named End Of Civilization.  Plus a few forums; I’m not sure how to link to a forum but thanks anyway.

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Coffee: Now With Additional Awesome

Posted on July 20, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

The lovely and talented Mrs. Curmudgeon has given me a gift.

This is my mug.  You can’t have it.  If you want one get your own.

If you don't have a mug like mine your life is hollow and bereft of meaning.

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Things You Need To Know Before You Buy The Farm

Posted on July 19, 2011 by AdaptiveCurmudgeon

There’s no obvious word for what I do. I have a homestead and aim for self reliance…but I still have a day job. Is that “homesteading”? Who knows? Homesteading is a spectrum between Grizzly Adams and the banker’s deluded trophy wife who hires illegal aliens to plant tomatoes for her. I haven’t gone as self-reliant as I’d like but that’s probably good. It keeps me from going too Mosquito Coast and/or starving in a mud hut.

I don't know who this guy is but he has the wild eyed look of a homesteader. (Photo linked.)

Another thing to know; it’s a bigger challenge than you think. Too many lessons are learned the hard way, most of what you read is bullshit, and half of what you actually know won’t apply to your situation.

I probably don’t know what I’m doing but I do know plenty of stuff that’s wrong. I’m always happy to help folks avoid obvious pitfalls (many of which I’ve experienced first hand). So I’ve written an unordered and incomplete list of things you need to know if you’d like to homestead.

  1. You have much less money than you think.
  2. Don’t quit your day job. See #1.
  3. Baby skunks are the sweetest cutest little fluffballs you’ve ever seen. Shoot them; in the head.
  4. Every redneck with a spare acre of overgrazed farmland will put a cow on it. If you automatically buy a cow, you may be a redneck. If you ponder the best use of your pasture you may be on the path to homesteading. If you buy a llama you’re doomed.
  5. If deer eat your garden; eat the deer. Humanity evolved to be a bad ass. Rise to the occasion.
  6. Hippies, God bless them, become a lot more realistic after raccoons kill their chickens and the pipes freeze.
  7. Squirrels, birds, snakes, and other woodland creatures enjoy ruining your plans. It is your job to demonstrate your superior position on the evolutionary ladder. After a while they’ll learn that you’re not nature’s bitch and back off. Unless you are; in which case they’ll take over your house and party like the Green Bay Packers on acid.
  8. Get this month’s copy of Mother Earth News. Then burn it.
  9. Jackie Clay is smarter than you.
  10. Tools, chainsaws, buckets, mauls… you need a whole lotta’ shit to reduce materialism. Go figure.
  11. The closer you are to “carbon neutral” the more ridiculous the concept will seem.
  12. If you need to consult with zoning rules before buying a chicken… move.
  13. Debt will beat your ass like a tambourine. You’ve been warned.
  14. There is a vast gulf between the critter you’re raising in a barn and dinner on a plate.  Cross it.
  15. When all else fails and you think there’s no hope; swallow your pride, drive to town, and eat at the diner.
  16. It is entirely possible to know six languages and have mastered advanced particle physics yet screw up planting an apple tree.
  17. Pay attention to geezers. A lot of old people know their shit.
  18. A lawn is not landscaping. It is a flexible use storage facility and a defensive perimeter between you and nature.
  19. Ideally a dog should be roughly the size (and possibly the intelligence) of an eight cylinder engine block.
  20. It is entirely possible to spend two grand making a gallon of maple syrup that you’ll sell for $60. Do not try to explain the logic of this to your accountant.
  21. You have an accountant? Well lah de dah! I suppose you’ve got a butler too?
  22. If you find a real mechanic treat him well. Ladies, you may want to consider marrying him.  The rest of us are trying to swim against the tide of a disposable society and it sucks. We want your mechanic’s number.
  23. You may find yourself daydreaming of backhoes and fences when you used to dream about yachts and Lamborghinis.
  24. It is said that the average person can go only three days without outside resources like grocery stores. You’ll soon realize that the average person can’t read this sentence without a support team.
  25. If your doctor says that homesteading is not exercise, punch him with the flabby unused muscles you developed lifting 100 pound bags of feed.
  26. Flannel sheets are worth it. Lumberjack plaid goes with everything. Denim jeans aren’t officially worn out until the third round of patches.
  27. Keep a jackknife in your pocket.
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