Yesterday I was "too late in the day" for a blog, today I'm "Way Too Early", now the Universe is once again in balance. That's a good place to be, in balance. I keep wondering when that's gonna happen with me. When I get to the point I'm panting to feel like I'm getting enough air, I do two things. First I hook up the O2 machine and inhale a bit of that, and I take a little morphine. According to my Hospice Nurse, Morphine slows everything down, enough that I don't need the O2 machine running any more than is necessary. I even have a little bottle that I can load up in the car and drag along with me, not cool in the least, but handy if I hit a point where I need the extra air. One thing I dislike about the morphine is how out of touch it makes me feel. I see people talk, I even hear the words they are speaking, but most of the time I can't make heads or tails over any of it. It makes me feel heavy, as well, and I sleep more than usual when I'm taking it. I suppose in there somewhere is the silver lining. It takes my pain almost completely away. That's a good thing, and I sleep better, as well as more often during the day, that can't be all bad.
Oldest Boy and his family are in town as we speak. We got them a room so everyone would be less crowded. Family crowds are about the only crowd I can stand. Did we argue and the like? Well, duh, we are family. I get nervous in a crowd and if I can't see the doors in at least one place I've been served.
Just like when we used to go to my grandparents, he is going to do some of the Honey Do's I can't anymore. At my Smith Grandparents, my dad and I either split wood for my grandfather and our selves, or worked on the other relatives cars, or both. I liked doing stuff like that, being the guys that could fix about anything our own relatives couldn't fix was pretty damn cool. I hope Chance gets a taste of that this visit, and enjoys doing it, because it's a nice feeling. Although these days, there is much a shade tree mechanic can do without a plug in diagnostic machine They didn't used to be cheap, I've not priced one n around 10 years. Then there's updating it every three to six months so you have all the possible tech updates. It's not cheap. One year at Christmas my Uncle Bill had this Maverick Grabber, 1972-75 maybe. It had a 302 CI engine (5.0 liter for the folks that never saw cubic inch) which made the little light bastard an ass grabber. He was talking with Dad about why it might sound like it's missing on a couple of cylinders. He'd taken it to the Ford dealer locally, and they showed changing all eight plugs right before Thanksgiving, and he'd taken it back twice because it still missed. Dad throws the hood up and sure as shit, six shiny new spark plugs. You couldn't see the far back two (#4 and #8 cylinders, one on each side). Pop grabbed the owners manual, it showed having to take loose the motor mounts, and turning the engine one direction or the the other to get to the far rear plugs. Here I go, under the car to hold back up while Dad loosened the motor mounts. We turned the engine, and sure enough, one of the plugs has cracked ceramic, the other one is just worn out. We got new plugs, adjusted the gap (32/100's on a feeler gauge, if memory serves) put everything back, tightened up the motor mounts and fired it up. With all eight firing right, the little bastard really was a Grabber, Ford wasn't fooling with the name on that one. We have several smaller projects that I couldn't get done in the last year for some damn reason. Chance will be a big help
Liz and I are out at a little cafe called Addie's. Not only is it my baby girls nickname, it's a nice little place to eat breakfast…..at least Liz is getting to eat. While we were gathering up our shit to get out the door, I ran way short of breath. Didn't take morphine, I can't drive if I take it, so I had to get a big hit of O2. (sigh) what a pain in the ass that is, and makes me feel far older than I am just to even put the tubes in my nose. No, not all the way, that would be silly. I get home from Addie's I'm gonna have to have some morphine, dammit.
Okay, some time back my little brother mentioned me starting a Novo engine. Dad was taking down an old rod power for a small oil company so they could sell the parts. This old Novo engine was a starting engine for he 40 hp Ajax that drove the rod power. It was unique because dad said, after seeing hundreds of the Novo engines, this was the only one that had a radiator. Yeah, I started it. Even after I was told not too. Mostly because it wouldn't run and acted froze up. The engine wouldn't turn over.
Dad goes to work one Saturday, Mom was doing her thing, and I was up at 0500 and snuck off the to equipment shed. Shed meaning an 60' X 80' steel butler building for storing a ton and a half truck and a really old Gleener combine. I go out to the shed, gather up the tools I needed and was about to drain the radiator when Clay came in. "Dad's gonna be mad". "No he won't dipshit, if you keep your blabber mouth shut", says I. Drained the radiator into a couple of 2 gallon jugs, pull it off, and finally see what I needed to see, the exhaust port on the side. Took off it's little muffler and got to work. I pulled the head and saw right off what the problem was. The exhaust valve was stuck shut, and the intake valve had some kind of crap around it that made it unable to close, and the same gunk had it plugged off. I got the valves out, being damn sure I put all the parts I took off in reverse order on the floor so I could put it back together when I was finished.
Some of you guys are going to laugh, I got the hard crap off the valves with a wire brush and cleaned the rest of the inside of the head, and checked the cylinder top, which was real shiny much to my surprise. Here's where some of you are going to laugh. I had valve grinding compound, applying it liberally to the valve and the valve seat, I spun the piss out of the dart until it quit sticking in a couple of spots and turned freely. Got it all back together, checked the water level, refilled the carb glass with clean gasoline, drained the old fuel tank and cleaned it, refilled it with clean gas. Put all Dad's tools up and got ready to fire the little one lunged devil off. It used a hand crank, so I sat the engine skid on enough cement blocks so I could spin it without breaking an arm.
Just like Dad said, once through, then right up against fire compression, backed the crank back a hair, the pulled it through once hard. Damn thing fired right the hell up. Sunday Dad went out to see what the problem was with the engine. I started it while he was looking for his tools. Best way to avoid the ass eating for not listening is to have what's busted working before Dad got to it. Except that engine. Strangely he was going to use that to tinker with, like a bit of mental therapy after a 90 hour work week. Hmmmmm, the ass eating wasn't that bad