Pony Goes Uptown, Makes New Friends

I have to admit, it was the Idiotic Brother who goaded me into it.  I’d heard there was a guy with the Carrboro Fire Department who has an old Massey Harris 44 and I mentioned it to the IB.  He said, “Well there you go, a natural first road trip for the Pony.”  Today I got up the courage and poured another gallon of gas in the Pony’s tank in preparation for the 4-mile round trip.  As a precaution, I stuck Gary Talbert (my tow truck driver)’s phone number into my wallet and put my phone, wallet and the camera in the Pony’s handy glove box.  I even brought the garage door opener with me and closed the door on my way down the drive.

I’m proud to say that the Pony didn’t let me down.  He cruised over and back with no problems.  And although the guy I was looking for had the day off, the Pony earned some other admirers during his visit.  Here are a couple of photos.

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While there, a guy came over and said he had an old Ford tractor to sell, and since one of the firemen was interested in getting an old tractor, they went off to discuss the matter and trade information.  When the firemen came back he said the guy wanted $1000 and that he was going to go check it out.  Oh man, I’m afraid the Pony and I may have sown some seeds of marital discord today.  Sorry about that.

And now for a Chapter I’ll call:  Stuff I’ve Invented
There’s a lot of stuff that I’ve invented over the years, not because I’m a Thomas Edison, but simply because over a lifetime you stumble on things.  Here are a few examples.

1. One of my best ones was the “A” with no cross-bar.  I came up with that one a couple of years ago.  At some point it dawned on me that I was wasting time and effort, not to mention pencil lead and ink, by including the cross-bar.  If one simply makes an inverted “V” there’s no other letter like that, so one can just assume its an A, but save a stroke.

2.  A couple of weeks ago I was downstairs and noticed that The Princess had a pair of my shorts cued-up for ironing.  Pieces of clothing in the cue I find, can remain there for anywhere from overnight to a few weeks.  So, I thought why not lay the iron on top of the shorts while they’re in the cue.  If the  Princess stalls long enough they may not even need actual ironing.  As it turns out the shorts were in the cue for several weeks what with the NYC trip getting in the way.  When we got back that nasty “fly flap” on the front of the shorts (which always needs ironing) was laying down just as flat as you please.  I’m calling this invention passive ironing.

3.  Of course, who can forget my invention, the butt shave.  Hey, I didn’t say they were all successful.

4. The Brucio, at Starbucks, a four-shot, grande Americano, but filled only to the tall line.  A great “waker-upper” in the morning.

5. And while we’re on the subject of drinks, how about my invention, the Broken ToeSure, I broke my toe in the process of testing it, but it is a great drink, and it was only the one toe.  Recipe:  a generous shot of Beefeaters gin, equal amount of Campari, a slice of orange, and fill the rest of a tall glass with club soda.

6. Moving from drinks to eats, I invented the peach/blueberry pie (PBP).  It’s like a peach pie only the handful of blueberries you put in gives it a little flavor twist and adds some nice color.  I challenge anyone who’s had a piece of my PBP to come up with a tastier one!  (full recipe on request).

7. The balanced meal.  No, not that old balanced meal you were told about as a kid.  I talked about this concept in my nutrition issue http://thatidiotictractor.com/2014/07/11/whose-fault-was-it/.  To be one of my balanced meals all you need to do is keep the good things and the bad things in balance.  For example, an apple (good) and a Snickers bar (bad) is a balanced meal.  Even something like a martini is (by my rules) balanced, because it contains gin (bad), but olives (good).  That’s why when The Princess and I order a martini at a restaurant or bar we ask that they leave out the vermouth, because that would be two bads and just one good.

8.  The tractor diaperSimply a large piece of corrugated cardboard, laid flat underneath the tractor.  The box from a 40″ flat screen TV is perfect for a small tractor, but you’d want to use one from a 60″ for a big boy.  If one of these doesn’t catch about 3-months worth of dripage, then you really screwed-up when you rebuilt that tractor.

9.  Making art from “found objects” isn’t new, but as far as I know, I invented what I’m calling Clam-shell Art.  My new series of pieces is made from the plastic things you get food in at the grocery, which are then filled with shredded paper and cut letters.  Here’s one of my recent pieces.

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Is this the ultimate result of a guy who’s finished his tractor restoration and has too much time on his hands?  Or, do you think The Bruce Museum might give me a one-man show?  You’re not really meant to answer these…I know the answers.

Have a nice weekend, and thanks for reading.

Bruces, The World is Crawling With Them!

Goodness, where to start.  There’s a Calvin and Hobbs book entitled “The Days are Just Packed,” and that’s how I feel about the last two weeks.  Now as I sit here nursing a “man cold” (like a woman’s only with more whining), it all seems a blur.  Of course, knowing my readers as I do, you’re really only interested in the Pony, the weird and the funny, so I’ll try to stick to those.  First, the Pony.  Son Andy came down with us on the train from NYC to fish, relax, and naturally, spend some quality time with the Pony.  Here’s the proof of the Pony part.

Hey Bill, recognize the t-shirt.  Andy borrowed my commemorative t-shirt marking the 50th anniversary of Bill’s “Detroiter” truck stop.  Perfect for Pony driving!  The Pony is now asking where the “hot rod” driver is.  Andy actually “burned rubber” in the driveway when he “popped” the clutch.  Note to Gene and Lynne:  September is return to Wolf’s Pond month for the Pony.  Is the Pony’s space still free?

Moving on, or I should say moving back, let’s talk about the NYC/Philly trip.  First, what’s happened to the traditional roles of Life Savers candy.  I wanted a role while in New York (I think early stages of my cold had already begun), but neither of the drug stores I tried had them.  They only had bags of loose ones back in the candy isle.  The youngsters at the cash registers looked at me like I was nuts when I asked where the roles of Life Savers were.  I do note that you can buy them at Amazon, so they are still out there.  But you know, changes like this make me feel like the world is leaving me behind, dammit.  Bill, can a person still buy a role at the Detroiter?

Now for the section called “Weird stuff you could only find in NYC.”  The first thing you need to get your mind around is that there 8.5 million people living there.  Add to that let’s say about half a million visitors at any given time.  That’s probably enough people, so that you can set-up just about any kind of retail shop and find a customer base.  Think of it, if one in a thousand people come into your shop, that’s 9000 people.  So, you get things like Potatopia, yup a shop where all you can buy are baked, smashed or fried potatoes.  But wait it gets better, how about Oatmeals, a shop that, you guessed it, only sells prepared oatmeals (32 kinds).  There’s one with shaved Parmesan cheese, another “pomegranite/pistacio,” and how about the “Elvis” which includes peanut butter, banana, bacon, honey and sea salt.  Then one night Andy and I were walking along Spring street and spotted Rice to Riches.  It was after 9:00 pm, the place was crawling with customers, so I had to check it out.  Turns out all they sell there is rice pudding, but in dozens of different ways.  A few of them:  “Sex, drugs and Rocky Road,” “Oreogasm,” and “Almond Shmalmond!”  Of course later, after dinner we went to a specialty shop that wasn’t weird at all and where the customer base goes up considerably, The Little Cupcake Shop.  Fabulous!

Another strange thing we saw during our trip was in Greenwich, CT, not NYC.  Remember that post where I included a photo of my inititials in a big banner over an art museum?  Here’s the photo to refresh your memory.

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Well, check this out.

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A nice fellow took that photo of the “fam” in front of my museum.  No, there are not wax images of guys named Bruce in there.  It’s a small, but classy museum ordinarily dedicated to science and specifically targeted at children.  While we were in town, however, there was an exhibit there of the art of Hans Hofmann.  I’ll just include one photo here of a couple of Hofmann paintings that were among my favorites.

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Note how the artist has appropriately and effectively employed Massey Harris Red and Straw Yellow paint hues in these pieces. (1)    That Hofmann is a genius!  So, my museum (which I could not resist), great art (which we all love) and a train ride to get there (for Andy and me), how could we resist.  It was a perfect day, the museum, followed by lunch in Greenwich, and since we came back into Grand Central Station on the return, we enjoyed happy hour at Cipriani’s, home of the best martini in the world, and as a bonus, a view down on the cavernous station with its hubbub of people rushing to and from their trains.  But if you go, be careful; one of those martinis is great, more than one, suicide!

Next up, another chapter in Guys that look like Bruce.  Remember this one?

Bruce's twin revised

He was spotted by the Idiotic brother in a California Taco Bell.  Some resemblance I’ll admit, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in “camo” shorts.  Now in the last two weeks there have been a couple of more sitings.  First, friend and occasional blog reader, Mary Pat, sent this one.

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The image was in a hiking magazine.  I guess there’s a resemblance, but come on MP, that gnome is as old as Methuselah.  Look, for god’s sake, he needs a stick to hold him up!  Do I look that crotchety?  Then cousin Bill was reading some other dude’s blog (pretty disloyal, Bill) and found what he felt was yet another look-alike.  I couldn’t snag the photo off this other site, so you’ll have to click on the link that follows:  LINK

I guess since you’re back with me, you remembered to hit your browser’s back button, congrats!  That guy is the best match for me yet, and that’s probably because he’s half my age and I’m so “well preserved.”  But hoooeee, this fellow is the son of an Israeli goat farmer and cheese maker.  I love goat cheese!  And thanks, Bill, for not saying that I look like his father.

From me (and all the other Bruces), thanks for reading.

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(1) All States Ag Parts catalog numbers 108368 and 108372 respectively.

July in North Carolina

If the crepe myrtle is blooming, it’s probably July.  I took this photo with my phone a few weeks ago.

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How about this guy who color coordinated his bird houses with the crepe myrtle bush?  I first noticed this artwork during a “morning 40.”

So much happens on my bike rides, sometimes I think, man, some day I’m really gonna miss this.  Of course I won’t miss last Thursday’s events when some sort of bee (I never saw him) got inside my bike jersey and stung me 4 times.  Ouch!

Then Thursday, I was shooting down the hill just shy of home when off to my right in the grass a hawk pounced on a squirrel, but due to my startling him he gave up on his intended breakfast.  But do you think that squirrel thanked me?

Then there’s the big yellow dog that sometimes chases me out along Morrow Mill Rd.  But his trick is that I never know when he’s actually going to  chase me.  He’ll chase me once and then sleep late for the next two months.  Then, just when I let down my guard, out he comes like a rocket.  I can just visualize myself as a character in a geometry  problem as some unknown math genius calculates whether the dog’s speed combined with his angle of attack will equal contact with me going in a straight line at 24 mph.  Note to math genius:  The dog is aging at 7 years for every one of mine, and I’ve noticed he’s putting on weight.  Note to Cyndy:  If I don’t return home someday, the math problem took an unexpected turn in the dog’s favor.  Look for me in front of the ranch house with a dog house on the front porch, a half mile west of Millikin Rd.

Moving on, I chuckle every time I think about it, but I was fixing dinner last night, and I’ll admit that I’d had a glass of wine, OK maybe two.  I noted that the recipe called for a lettuce side dish, and said to Cindy, “Do you want a ledge of wettuce?”  After she stopped laughing, she said, “From Elmer Fudd, I don’t think so!”

In Pony news, I’ve been doing a little leak investigation.  By the way, Gene and I call the big piece of cardboard that I keep under the Pony his diaper.  Every now and then, just like with all big babies, we need to change his diaper.  I’d also add that the diaper analogy holds up in another way.  What leaks out of the Pony’s rear end is way nastier than what leaks out of the front!

Anyway, by process of elimination (I drained the hydraulic oil), I determined that the oil dripping onto the diaper toward the Pony’s front end was coming from the hydraulic pump.  The photo below is the hydraulic pump and tank.

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So you are properly oriented, the fan screws onto the round thing on the right with all the holes around it.

So, the good news is that the engine is tight, but the bad news is that that pump (which I had totally rebuilt) is leaking.  After consulting with the Idiotic Brother, we’ve decided to try a non-surgical leak remedy.  I’m going to pack the hydraulic tank with grease instead of refilling with oil.  There are several advantages of this fix.  Most obvious, I don’t actually have to do anything.  And second, if this doesn’t work, I get to blame it on the IB.  As a back-up source of advice, I floated this fix by the guys on the tractor discussion board.  I got no “Holy crap, don’t do that” messages, so stay tuned.

The Princess and I are heading up to NYC this week.  There’s a ton of good blog material up there, and I’ll fill you in on my return.  I see now that I titled this post July in North Carolina, and here it is August 1.  Ah well.  Enjoy the dog days everyone.  Thanks for reading.

Passwords

My friend, Art, who’s a design engineer took offense when he saw this photo of the Pony.

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He sent an email (he’s up North this time of year) saying that the white draw string on the Pony’s new seat bothered him.  Picky, picky, picky.  Well, the Pony doesn’t want to offend anyone, and as it turns out I’ve been able to make everyone happy, even Art.  I bought a new pair of athletic shoes recently, and you know how flashy they’ve gotten in the last couple of years.  The pair I got came with two pair of laces, one white and guess what the other color was?  Yeah,  Red!

Of course nothing having to do with the Pony goes smoothly, and even this little job was no exception.  In order to snake the new lace through the hem of the seat cushion, I taped the new lace to the old and started feeding it through.  Uh oh, did my heart sink when about a third of the way around, the two laces separated.  I spent the next 24 hours, off and on, ooching the new lace the rest of the way around about an eighth of an inch at a time.  My poor arthritic fingers were pretty sore by the time I finally got it all the way around.  Then I thought, you know what would really make for a clean look would be to buy one of those little lace-locks that the shoe store sells, so I don’t have an ugly bow in the back.  I just picked-up the lace lock, and so this is how the finished job looks.

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ARE YOU HAPPY, ART?

A number of major milestones were reached this week.
1.  In a lunch sandwich, I finished the last of our Easter ham.  As I recall, it was a nine-pounder, smallest we could buy and still get “the good deal.”
2.  Thanks to eBay, I finally sold that lousy Allis Chalmers draw bar I bought thinking it would fit the Pony.  So, the Cost-O-Meter is off the hook for that one.
3.  We “maxed-out” our credit card for the first time.  Trouble was, we didn’t make most of the purchases.  But I’ll tell you what, a London Apple store made out big time with almost $10,000 spent there alone. (1)
4.  Hit 3000 mi on the bike today, so champagne at happy hour.  Woo hooo!
5.  Damn, I forgot the fifth thing.

Moving on.  Remember how five years ago I was celebrating the end of the donut famine in Chapel Hill?  A Krispy Kreme shop had opened up in downtown Chapel Hill.  It got to be a nice little habit for me.  First thing in the morning I’d hop on the bus a block from here and at the last stop on campus, get off and walk first to the Starbucks for a Brucio and then down the street for box of donuts.  I’d then hustle back to the bus stop and with luck I’d be back home in about 50 minutes.  It was fun too, since that was a campus express bus, it would usually be just be the driver and me on the way back.  I’d offer a donut, and more often than not I’d be taken up on that.  Well, sad to say, but when I last did the little bus ride into town I got to the donut shop, and there was brown paper covering the windows.  Come on!  I alone had to have been supporting that place.  They must have been making tons of money.  I don’t know, I’m feeling betrayed…lost, and hey, what will I use for a source of vitamin D?

The footnote at the end of the post makes a password suggestion, but that got me to thinking about how absolutely nuts the whole password thing has gotten.  I’ve got so many passwords that I have to keep a typed list of them just to keep track (three, single-spaced, typed pages).  I’m not exaggerating.  Since it’s a list I did on the computer, I’ve had to encrypt it, so it’s got its own unique password.  But in case I forget that password I’ve had to put it on a “Post It” note and hide it somewhere.  And do you think I’ll remember where its hidden if I ever need it?  Hell no.  And where do I keep the hard copy list, so that the next house invader can’t just grab the lap top and the list and have a ball?  Someone I know (who shall remain nameless) had all the passwords in a folder nicely labeled “Passwords.”  Oh, thank you, how sweet!  There are a lot of neat things about the modern computer age, but they come with a price.  Think of me as I go about resetting a bunch of my passwords and informing a slew of creditors of my new credit card information.  But crap, first I have to find that “password list” password!

Let me know how you all relabel those folders, and hey, thanks for reading!
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(1)  The credit card company said that someone had called them (somehow making it look like the call came from my phone) and given enough valid information, so that they honored a request to send a new card to an address in Tennessee.  I was told that this would not have been possible if my card had required a password whenever there was a call-in for service on the card.  So, long and short of it is, sorry to say, make sure you have a password requirement on your card.  By the way, the same party then called them a few days later to say that they’d be traveling in the UK, thereby smoothing the way for some happy spending in London.

Signs

We were in the middle of a prolonged heat wave, with high temperatures each day ranging between 95 and 102.  In order to beat the heat, I was out the door at a little after 6:00 am that Sunday on one of my thrice weekly, 40-mile bike rides.  Not one car had passed me in over 5 miles, and I was about to crest Collins Mountain, which isn’t really much of a mountain, but being as it’s the highest ground for some miles around they named it that and at some point plunked three gigantic antennae among the loblollies.

Due to the lack of traffic, I was just pumping hard, and not really tuned in to what was going on around me.  So I was startled a bit when out of the corner of my eye I saw a large bird fly up on the right side of the road.  Probably 99 times out of 100 that bird will be a buzzard that’d been scared off of a carcass of some sort, but I could see that this bird wasn’t black as it crossed in front of me and landed on a low branch of a small tree.  After it lit in the tree, I saw that it was quite a large owl, and that there, sitting on other branches were two more owls, probably a family, as owls are fiercely territorial.  Just as sure as I was that I’d never seen three owls in one tree before and never would again, I was equally sure at that moment that what I’d seen was some sort of a “sign.”

Fast forward now a few days.  Again, I’m out early, this time heading in the other direction, north.  I was on Dairyland Road just a quarter mile from the dairy store when I saw something that at first looked like a dead cat in the middle of the road.  As I got closer though the undeniable smell of skunk hit me.  I quickly came up on the body and amazingly, it turned out to be an albino skunk!  Now surely that has to be a sign.

The thing about signs like these is that you don’t know what they portend.  Making it worse you don’t even know the time frame.  So all you’ve really got is a notion that something pretty special (could be bad, could be good) is going to happen sometime, probably sooner (but not necessarily) rather than later.  Essentially, you’ve got nothin’, but still…those were signs.

Actually, I take back part of what I said there.  I do know one thing that will happen for sure because of those signs.  I’m going to lose the three dollars (two more than usual) that I spent on (I mean invested in) lottery tickets this weekend.  Crap!

Speaking of signs, I was walking on campus last week, and as I passed by The Ackland Museum (UNC’s art museum) I saw a big banner plastered across the front of the building.  Here’s a photo.

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Holy cow, I thought, those are my initials.  Someone there must have read my last post and recognized my prodigious talent as an artist.  Here’s the photo of my art work from the last post.

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I got pretty excited thinking, my god, they’re mounting an exhibition of my tractor-related art.  Then I read the fine print and saw that their BRB simply means “Be Right Back.”  You know, not in my 68 years have I seen BRB used in that manner.  I’m guessing this new usage was driven by the pervasive need for brevity that today’s social media demands.  So, bottom line, the internet has co-opted my initials, and I don’t get my one-man show.  Double crap.

I guess one good thing has been confirmed.  I’m clairvoyant.  I just confirmed by checking the internet that I accurately predicted my loss of three dollars this weekend.  Woo hooooo!

And to sign off now in addition to thanking you for reading, I’ll add BRB.

CREMATION…$875!

That was the banner I saw in three-foot tall letters along the “main drag” in Sarasota, FL last week.  Jeez, what do they do, just throw you on a bonfire out back?  Put another log on the fire, honey!  Kind of wondering too, suppose I’m not happy with my “el cheapo” cremation?  What is my recourse?

Other Florida observations.  It’s hotter in Chapel Hill than it is in Sarasota, but they got us beat hands down on humidity, rain and not surprisingly, the attendant mosquitoes.  Holy cow, while sitting outside at Starbucks I think I donated more blood than I did the week before at the American Red Cross.  One came at me that was already red with someone else’s blood.  That really scared me, you know, as in “sharing a needle.”  I just got done telling the Red Cross that I didn’t do that!  Yuck!

You can get a giant frozen yogurt outside the Sarasota Costco for just $1.35.  But if your mother gets chocolate and doesn’t like hers, she won’t hesitate to dig her spoon into yours, which was delicious vanilla and slathered with strawberry sauce.  I was the only child there not smiling.

Speaking of children, my mom and I went to see the movie Cinderella during my visit.  Kate Blanchett, Paul Giamatti and others did fine acting jobs.  But at some point while we were sitting there my mom popped out with, “You know, everyone else is here with children.”  Of course, I had to remind her that, hey, she too was there with her child.

Staying with the family theme, I don’t think in all the years I’ve been doing this blog I’ve ever burdened you with a cat picture.  Either you’re a cat hater, or a cat lover, so apologies to those in the former category.  Our son (Andrew) sent a nice photo of his cats last weekend; here it is:

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That’s Junior under the umbrella and Buddy acting like Junior’s shadow, in the back.  Now staying with the animal photos theme, here are some lovely shots of a Pony.

IMG_1208That’s the new draw bar all finished and attached.  Also, of course, my new (vintage) road hazard triangle.  Newer farm equipment signs aren’t yellow and red, so I was pleased to find this older one on eBay that maintains the Pony’s yellow and red paint scheme.  Also you may note in this photo that a seat cushion has been added.  Here’s a shot of that from the front.

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Pretty cool.  Those two items set the ol’ Cost-O-Meter back a few clams, and I’m trying to figure out if I actually added them or not.  Cost altogether though was less than $100.  And now, if you hadn’t already figured out that I’ve gone “round the bend” with this Pony stuff, check out these next couple of photos.

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Yup, that’s some tractor-related art hanging in my new gallery (the garage), and the corresponding “reader card.”  The Princess helped me with the reader card.   Tours of the gallery are available by appointment only.

Did you know the forecast for Chapel Hill today calls for a high temperature of 102?  So, as a tribute to that, here’s this:

A Hundred and Two

It’s a hundred and two,
And everyone’s down east,
but me and you.
Let’s just lie here in bed
on our best fine linen,

and just think about it,
instead of actually sinin’.

Stay cooooool everyone and thanks for reading.

The Homecoming, Part 2

There’s been a lot going on since the Pony came home to Primrose Lane.  The new draw bar arrived; it’s been sand blasted, primed and even had a first shot of Pony red paint.  Before going to work on it, I did a test fit on the tractor, and it fits perfectly.  The trip down to Siler City and Jeff, the sand blaster went smoothly.  I dropped the parts off one day and picked them up the next.  Jeff’s mules were there, but he wasn’t.  Over the phone he just said to leave the $35 inside a cinder block next to his work shop.  Amazing what you can get done without even seeing a guy.  Here’s a little montage of draw bar progress photos.

There was one other item I had Jeff sand blast.  When I first found the Pony back in the woods, in its little glove box there were a few miscellaneous items, all corroded, the most notable of which was an old hatchet head.  After Jeff sand blasted the head, I took it into Fitch’s, our local lumber yard/hardware and bought a new, hickory handle for it.  While I was checking out, I showed the boys behind the counter the old hatchet head and told them the story behind it, even showed ’em the photo of the Pony on my phone.  Just thinking out loud I said that I should probably get the head sharpened, and one of them said, “Ya got a guy?”  It took me a second, but translated that meant, Do you have a person that can do that for you?   I said that I didn’t, and with that he flipped open a folder of business cards and wrote down the name and address of Sig Unger, who’s a CEO, that’s right, “Chief Edge officer!”

I just love all the little side adventures the Pony has led me out on, and meeting a CEO back in the woods, just outside of Carrboro was just another.  I followed the directions given me at Fitch’s and found Sig’s place.  As I climbed out of the car, I spotted an old, tarnished quarter in the gravel driveway and considered that a lucky sign.  The place was closed-up “tight as a drum,” and no one answered my knock, but when I got back to the car, the house door opened and there was Sig.  He was congenial, took the head, asked when I needed it and we agreed he’d have it ready at the same time the next day.  I said how much cash should I have with me, and without thinking much, he said “five dollars.”  When I returned the next day, Sig handed me the head and said, “Be careful,” and when I ran my finger over the edge, I could see why.  By golly, I think I could shave with that edge.  As I was leaving, Sig asked if I had one of his cards, and I said, no, so he popped back in the house and grabbed one for me.  Wow, the business card of a CEO!

Over the next couple of days I sanded and refinished the store-bought handle to “Boehmke standards,” and attached the sand-blasted, sharpened head it.  Here are a few of photos of that little project.  Don’t forget, you can click the images to make them bigger.

Now The Princess says that I can’t keep the hatchet in plain sight out in the garage; it’s just too dangerous a weapon to leave lying around.  Actually, if I can find a way, I’m thinking of mounting it somewhere on the Pony.  The two came to me together, so I kind of feel they should stay together.

Well, I’ve kept you waiting long enough.  I know you’re saying, really? For what?  Just about everyone I know has asked me at some point during the Pony’s five-year restoration, “What will you do with it when it’s finished?”  I’ve put everyone off just saying that I wasn’t even going to think about that until I got to that point.  For all of you and I guess even for me, the slide show that follows is at least a start toward answering that question.  The photos that make up the show were taken during the block party that our little town home community had last weekend.   Enjoy the show. 

Ever since first hearing Lyle Lovett sing that song I knew it had to be a part of my Pony’s story.  Have a great Memorial Day weekend and thanks for watching.