Monthly Archives: December 2010

The Pony Puts His Foot Down

Hey, this is The Pony speaking.  I’ve been watching what’s been goin’ on here for the last 30 days, and frankly, I’m disgusted.  Bruce has gone “off the rails” with Christmas, and nostalgia, and just about anything else he could do…except work on me!  This thing has turned into a fancy Facebook page, and it ain’t even MY face.  This has all got to change.

I’m stepping in and mandating some changes.  First, tractor work needs to begin right now.  No more namby pamby…oh it’s too cold, or…oh I’m too busy with Christmas, or …oh a snowman got me, or…oh my Mom is here visiting…  Sheesh, get with it man!  Second, as one of our readers said, we need to set a definitive goal, you know, something to shoot for.  Just because you’re retired, doesn’t mean we’ve got forever.  Remember Bruce, when you did your financial plan, and they asked you to put in an age for your “end of retirement?”  Do you think that was just a number?  The clock is ticking “tractor boy.”

So, here it is. We’re setting a New Year’s resolution.  I know what some are going to say.  That these things mean nothing and that most of them are broken.  But, Bruce, I know you.  You’re not like those others.  When you set a goal for yourself you reach it.  I don’t think this is too aggressive, so it shouldn’t keep you from getting in your miles on that two-wheeled piece of junk.  Get real, you need four wheels to have real fun.  Nor should it keep you from occasionally appeasing The EVIL Princess with some royal fol-der-ol. 
RESOLUTION:
BRUCE WILL HAVE THE PONY MOVING  UNDER ITS OWN POWER BY JUNE 1, 2011.
This doesn’t mean that every single aspect of my restoration needs to be complete, but I’m further defining this to mean that I’m presentable, I’m able to get out of Gene’s driveway under my own power and that I can do a few laps on the street.  People keep asking about the “end game,” but we won’t concern ourselves with that now.

…Ah em…Pony, back-off!  You’re just a hunk of metal, and this is my blog.  You’re just THAT IDIOTIC TRACTOR.  Folks, this is your idiotic author stepping in to take back his turf, or maybe in blog terms, “blurf.”  Let’s be clear, I call the shots.  And I’m telling you, you’re not helping yourself by deriding The Princess.  You’d better watch it.  But, having said that, I think you make a valid point, and I accept as stated the resolution you have set out above.  Let’s shake on it…aw jeez…what is that black gunk?

Snow Men Redux, 60 Years Later

Holy Cow.  Maybe I triggered something with that last snowman post.  As if in response, a real monster of a snowstorm tracked up the East Coast and brought all the snow man building material a person could ask for.  This morning here in North Carolina we were greeted with maybe 6 inches of snow, and for us that’s huge.

After shoveling the drive I went out back and tested the snow, and sure enough it was what we used to call “good packin.”  So I began rolling my first snowman ball.  I’d forgotten, but it was heavy hard work.  Eventually I got that first ball done and started the second.  When that was done I rolled it up to the first and…uh oh…too heavy to lift.

That’s when I remembered that snowman building was at least partially about teamwork.  So I knocked on our neighbor’s (Paul, Sheila and Alexander) door and asked if they could come-up and help me finish.  With their help it wasn’t long and we had a finished product.  There was lots of picture-taking and posing with the snow man. 

After going inside we noticed another neighbor came over with their little one and took pictures with the snow man too.  At The Princess’s suggestion, we went back out and added a second face, so that he has one face toward the street and one that we can see from the house.  Yes, I’ll save you the trouble, he’s two-faced, just like me.  Not to leave you in suspense any longer, here’s a shot of me taken almost 60 years after the one I put in the last post.

I’d forgotten a few things about snow man building,  the weight, the cold, the wet jeans cuffs and mittens.  And learned a new thing, that at 63 after all that work, my back will hurt for a while.  Best leave this to the kids from here on.

Anyone else who wants to share snow man pictures from the big East Coast storm, or from anywhere else for that matter, send ’em to me and I’ll include them in the next post.  Have fun everyone!

Snow Men

Well, Maggie, the piston rings and gasket set arrived down here in NC just fine.  Somehow a UPS truck managed to break through the tight security around the Fingeronkill Triangle.  So really I don’t have any excuse not to be down in the garage degreasing parts and getting to work on the engine.  I guess I’ve just sunk into holiday bliss so far that I can’t extract myself.

I love everything about the whole period from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  The tree, The Princess balancing precariously on an 8 foot step-ladder getting every ornament just so.  This is grueling work for an artist.  Nothing can be just slapped on.  No ornament is in the right place until its been moved about three times.  My duties ended earlier after finally getting the stupid lights all jury-rigged and properly setting the tree topper in place under strict Princess-direction.  Predominant themes on our tree:  bears, angels, trains, Snoopy’s (from son Andrew’s childhood), birds and stars. 

I drive both The Princess and Andrew nuts by playing Christmas music pretty much non-stop for a month, everything except “The Little Drummer Boy,” which I’m sorry, I hate.  Buying presents, wrapping presents, getting presents, secrets, love it, love it, love it.  It helps too that its been so cold.  It makes it a whole lot easier to sit by the fireplace and read, or if it’s about 4:00 in the afternoon let my chin fall to my chest, way easier than going out biking.

Besides all that, Gene got himself in the hospital, didn’t even check with me first.  Thankfully he’s out now and looking well, well!  Incidentally, while he was recuperating he finally put a few sentences together about himself for the “ABOUT” page.  So check that out; I didn’t fact check all that stuff, but feel pretty sure it will stand up to scrutiny.

The only tractor work being done this week is ironically that being done by The Princess.  She’s working on one of our Speedy Ducks, but tricked-out to look as much like The Pony as a duck can look.  Here’s a shot of The Princess hard at work on Pony-Duck.  This is going to be one of my Christmas presents.  Reminds of making presents for my parents.  I don’t know why, but the one that stands out in my memory harkens back to the days when Mom still smoked Kool cigarettes.  I believe it was in sixth grade shop class that I made her a kiln-fired, ceramic ash tray in the shape of a big green foot.  I can see it in my mind’s eye just as if it was yesterday.  Man that thing was beautiful. 

Ah memories…along those lines I was pawing through old photos this week and came across my report card from kindergarten.  Some advice to any of you who are parents, throw this kind of stuff away!  Here’s what happens.  That box up on the top shelf of the closet, down in the basement on a dark shelf, or way back in the attic under an eve, you don’t know it, but it’s full of little ticking time bombs.  You open the box and BOOM your past flies right in your face, and the sensation is akin to shell shock.  Just look at this.

WHAT!  Now I ask you, what if I’d been the type of little shaver that believes what he’s told and takes it to heart.  Can you imagine, I might not have gone on to major in English.  Here’s a good one.  I gave a persuasive speech my freshman year that was good enough to get me three credits and exempted from Speech 101.  The amazing thing is that I gave that speech to a panel of academics and tried to persuade them that outdoor advertising signs were a wonderful thing and the god-given right of media conglomerates.  Not so coincidentally, my Dad worked for a sign company at the time.  Hey listen, you’ve got to protect your tuition source.  Then too, had I not ignored that kindergarten slight, there might never have been www.thatidiotictractor.com; what a travesty!  Now I ask you, aren’t I sharing my ideas with the group?

Then there are all those pictures in those boxes, hundreds of them.  Every one tick, tick, ticking away, having caught a split second in time, and now exploding before you.  Sometimes they go back before memory can help put context around them and leave you with more questions than answers.  Who took the picture?  When was it taken, where was it taken, why was it taken, what happened 10 seconds before and 10 seconds after it was taken?  It’s unsettling.  The picture that hit me like this, and I present to you for consideration is this one.

That’s my Dad and me, circa 1951.  But what in the world?  A boat oar and a stick with a boot on it for arms?  And the little snow man looks to have a dust broom for an arm.  And who took this?  I’m guessing the IB took it, since it’s all lopsy and he’s trying to cut me out of the frame. 

I guess an old photo like this is fun, but as I said, it leaves me wanting to know so much more.  I can only look at events that came later for context.  In the case of this picture, I look to memories of succeeding years when there was always a lot of snow.  We kids would go out and mess around in it, maybe make a few snow men, but eventually, the fathers in the neighborhood came out and co-opted the projects.  I remember gigantic snow stuff in every front yard of every house we lived in.  There were castle towers, camels, elephants, igloos, you name it.  All master-minded by fathers who saw their kids having fun and weren’t so far from their youth that they didn’t want to have some fun too.  I can see my Mom too, watching, smiling, standing in the front window of the house, which by the way was always called “the picture window,” smokin a Kool, shaking her head and carefully tapping the ashes into my big, green, foot ashtray.

So, once again, there’s probably a lesson or two in all this that your idiotic author is missing.  Well, maybe it’s something like, don’t believe everything you’re told, and thank goodness even as we grow older we still like to play like kids.  Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays.

Maggie Simpson, Parts Detective

There’s a mystical place in upstate New York folks call the Fingeronkill Triangle.  It is roughly outlined by Interstates I80, I88 and I90.  It is hemmed in between the Finger Lakes Region on the west, The Adirondack Mountains to the northeast and the Catskills to the southeast and thus, the name Fingeronkill Triangle.  At the points of the triangle are Syracuse, Albany and Binghamton. 

Like its famous sister, the Bermuda Triangle, there is a lot of myth attached to the Fingeronkill.  It’s said that entire towns have disappeared within it and others have simply failed to change, failed to succumb to the things that have rushed over the rest of the country.  One such little town is Oxford. 

Legend has it that this time warp, this portal to the year 1952 was caused by the last heinous act to ever occur in Oxford.  In that year, on a cloud-covered December night thieves stole the brand new Massey Harris Pony tractor that had been a Christmas gift to 13-year-old Ginny McCumber.  Ginny lived outside of Oxford on a small farm, but in this close-knit community it wasn’t long before the entire town knew of the little girl’s plight and her devastating loss.  It was in church the Sunday after the theft that Ginny knelt in her pew and asked God not to let her town change, not to let it fall prey to change and the attendant decline of humanity that comes with it.  And that was it.  Very little changed in Oxford after that.  Not to leave you too depressed about poor Ginny, her dad had a super-duper Farm-owners insurance policy, and the next spring saw Ginny on her Pony plowing and planting up a storm.

But the upshot of that 1952 event is the still pleasant little town of Oxford that has held its own against the tides of change.  The town is filled with beautiful, old homes and quaint shops.  The pharmacist at Bartle’s knows his customers by first name and at Canal Street Hardware you don’t just buy something, you get plenty of advice to go along with it.  The mailmen in Oxford don’t have to look at the addresses on the envelopes, because they know you and they know where you live (well that’s a little creepy).  They still have a community band and this month the local high school has been putting on that unforgettable classic, “Princess Tilly of Klutzenstein.”  Hmmm, any relation to my Princess?

Last week they had a program at the local historical museum entitled, “What the Heck Is it?”  They have trap shooting every Thursday and amazingly, you can still catch fish in the rivers and streams around Oxford.  But of course, it’s the people of Oxford who are concerned, enthusiastic and involved that make the difference.  Practically the whole town gets together at Christmastime to make “Community Gift Baskets,” and the local scout troop sings carols at the veterans home. 

Now if you think I’ve been laying it on a little thick and that I’m making all this stuff up (as I’ve been known to do) you’d be wrong.  Well ok, I made up the part about little Ginny.  Oh, that stuff about the Fingeronkill Triangle, BS.  But all the rest of this I got straight off the town’s website.  But I’ve left the best part for you tractor lovers for last. 

Out on Race Road in Oxford there’s a small business called Kuhn’s Equipment Repair.  Bob and Carol Kuhn have owned and run this business for 13 years.  Bob got his first tractor a year later than Ginny (she was big for her age), at 14 and he’s been restoring tractors for 30 years.  If you’re lucky enough to live around Oxford, well you’ve got it made.  You can just dump your tractor at Kuhn’s and Bob Kuhn will make all your tractor worries disappear.  The folks at Kuhn’s are like most from around here, so they’re friendly, helpful and do their best for you.  This fall they had an open house with food and music, contests for kids, cotton candy, the whole shebang.  150 people showed up.  But if like me you don’t live around Oxford and you gotta do your own tractor work, then you need the next best thing, ah person, at Kuhn’s and that’s Maggie Simpson, Parts Detective.

This part is no baloney.  There’s two ways you can go about finding parts.  You can search ton’s of parts web sites, Craig’s list, Ebay you name it, maybe find what you want, maybe not, and waste a lot of time and maybe not even get the best deal.  Or, you can call Maggie or Carol at Kuhn’s, tell them what you need, and because they’ve done this thousands of times compared to your once, they can get just what you need, get it fast and get you a good price.  This may sound like shameless advertising, but I have been so impressed with Kuhn’s that I wanted everyone to know about them.  

I’ve started a new links page, so look for a tab called LINKS at the top of the home page, www.thatidiotictractor.com.  If you click on that, there’s a link that will hook you right in to Kuhn’s.

So all this experience with Kuhn’s did not come without a price and a resulting nudge up on the Pony’s Cost-O-Meter.  After ordering piston rings and a full engine gasket and seal set we’re now up to $744.  Now I’m going to have to calm The Princess down and ask her what’s up with this Princess Tilly.  I’m pretty sure she’s not gonna like hearing about someone else horning-in on the Princess trade.    Wish me luck and thanks for reading.

The Pony’s Christmas Letter

Holy Moses, what a year!  I know, I know you’ve been getting these letters from me for years, and I’ll be the first to admit they’ve become boring in the extreme.  I mean, what could I say?  It was another quiet year of sitting in the damn woods.  No trips.  No family visits.  No accomplishments.  You probably felt I’d hit a low point, maybe even worried about me a little when in last year’s letter I signed off with, “If an old Pony cries in the woods and there is no one there to hear him, does he make a sound?”  As I reread that I must say, it sounded pathetic.

Last winter was particularly crappy.  I set the camera on a tree stump, pushed the 10-second timer and took this self-portrait in January.  This is North Carolina for crying out loud!  What is UP!  In the depths of that horrible winter though, there were stirrings.  The land I sat on was surveyed and sold, and by Spring some odd-looking fella in a baseball cap, ears that stuck out like the open doors of a New York city taxi cab and a schnoz only a mother could love started visiting on a regular basis.  He poked and prodded, even sat his skinny ass up on my seat.  My god he needs to gain some weight, I thought.  And that was my first clue that this guy was no real tractor man.

I’ve been getting yall’s Christmas letters and hearing about trips (July 4th parades, tractor pulls, blah, blah, blah) for years.  If I read one more letter about how some Pony grandchild with a bored-out engine out-pulled his entire category I’m going to puke.  This year folks is my big year to crow.  Take a look at this shot of me headin out a the woods in August.

I’m telling you that trip was hair-raising.  And me all the time wondering where in the hell I was being taken.  Well, the truck set me down in a very nice spot in a woodsy neighborhood, next to a garage and a home (my new home); boy do those words sound good.

Now I could make some stuff up here like y’all do in your Christmas letters.  Well, maybe it’s not so much what you make up, but what you leave out.  But I’m going to be honest with you.  I’m now owned by a moron.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice and all and his heart’s in the right place, but what he has to learn about tractors IS A LOT!  I tell you I’m insulted that his blog is called That Idiotic Tractor.  He’s got some nerve.  I overhear conversations between this guy and the guy who lives here, Gene.  They sometimes talk about an all-powerful being known as The Princess, who from what I hear does NOT have MY best interests at heart.

It’s amazing though, how even a moron, with some good help can actually get things done.  Not to brag too much, but at least a part of me, my carb, vacationed in California this year.  Wow, my carb came back feeling so refreshed!  I think a trip like that would do my whole body some good.  Look at it!

After some initial miscues by the moron (oh all right, Bruce from now on) he and Gene got my engine dismantled.  Then it was another road-trip, this time over to Durham, so my engine could visit “the baths,”  that’s the caustic soda baths friends.  Sure, a lot of my flaws showed up after the baths, but between some fine work by true engine guys at the machine shop and then what I have to admit was a commendable paint job by the…ah…Bruce, my block and head are I mean looking good!  Check this out.  By the way, see what I mean about the ears?

These trips are nice to brag on, but right now I have to admit to feeling a bit out of sorts.  My body out next to Gene’s garage, my engine in Bruce’s garage and there’s parts of me floating back and forth between the two.  But listen, even though I’ve read in all your letters for years about your injuries (from broken axles to worn-out cranks), Christmas is no time to complain about my ills.  I’m incredibly happy with my exciting new life (and hoping your just dying with envy), and I’m so happy I could share my good fortune with you all.  Hah, hah haaa.

I want to leave you with just a few thoughts from this Pony’s point of view.  During this eventful year I’ve been a keen observer of humans, and certain things strike me as real “difference makers” for them.  Taking chances, trying new things, meeting new people are all risky.  I see Bruce hesitate all the time with these things, but push ahead just enough for it to make a real difference for him and the other nuts he associates with.  So at this Christmas, 2010 I raise a glass of high-test gas to Bruce, Gene, Jim even The Princess for going that extra step, even if it impacted the damn Cost-O-Meter, and changing, I think improving their lives and mine.  God bless us every one.
Signed,
The Pony

Getting My Bearings

I hope you enjoyed that diversion in the last post.  If not, DON’T BLAME ME!  We’ve got a few housekeeping items to cover.  First, in light of the constant meddling by the Idiotic Brother (IB) in it seems everything, I have added a brief section about him on the “About” page.  So if you are a subscriber, and you don’t usually go the home page:  www.thatidiotictractor.com, you might want to check that out.

Second thing, I got nothing from you people on “naked dreams.”  I’d say that if you read this blog that’s a pretty sure indicator that you have naked dreams, so come on.  Don’t leave me the only one hanging out there.  Hmmm, that came out sounding a little funny, given the context.  If you don’t feel comfortable commenting “on blog,” send me an email.  I’ll probably twist your words around when I post your experience, but take a chance.  I want dirt!

Third, and you’re going to scratch your head at this, if only for a brief moment  you’ll note that the old Cost-O-Meter (on the Home Page) has gone DOWN.  That’s right, down.  Those of you who have been reading right along may recall that deep in the Cost-O-Meter’s bowels the original $50 cost of the tractor is reflected.  Believe me, there’ve been many times since shelling out that fifty bucks that I’ve thought the owner should have paid me, but you know “buyer beware.”  Sour grapes aside, The Pony came with a small bonus, 40 feet of nasty, old, rusty chain that had been used to keep people from stealing The Pony.  This would seem a bit of overkill, in light of the numerous ways The Pony had to defend itself:  it didn’t run (for about a hundred different reasons), trees enclosed it entirely and the road out  of the woods was blocked with fallen timber.

The chain sat around in my garage for months, but then not too long ago I decided to advertise it on Craig’s List.  I changed the ad and its location a few times, but this is the add that was running last week:
“This admittedly rusty 40 foot piece of chain (see picture) was attached to an old tractor I bought. I got no need for it. Not sure what its good for: Save it for next Halloween? Make necklaces? Lock up some valuable thing (mother-in-law?) in the backyard? I don’t know, but it’s just 15 bucks.”
I don’t know if this put thoughts in people’s heads, but within no time flat a guy (he looked normal) came out and paid my price, no questions asked.  I didn’t ask any either!

Getting on to tractor news, well kind of, it got so cold this week that I ordered a heater for the garage.  It was only about 52 degrees in there, and I need at least 60 to be comfortable.  I got a 4000 BTU unit on-line which cost me about $95 after taxes and shipping.  I wasn’t real careful when I read the description, but it sounded like it would work for me.  Well, when it arrived, it had a 30 amp plug on it that would not fit my outlet.  I asked Gene if he wouldn’t mind coming over and looking at the heater and my electrical situation and see if we could make it work.  Gene looked everything over, said stuff like 220, 240 what’s the difference and 20 amps, 30 amps pfft.  Off to the hardware to buy a 20 amp plug, Gene changed it, we plugged er in and voila, heat in the garage.

Gene left with much thanks from me and I stuck around to “feel the warm.”  It was around two in the afternoon, I was happily working in my 62 degree garage and ZZZT all the power in the entire house went out.  I heard above The Princess’s precious little feet pounding down the stairs and thought uh oh.  I met her in the mud room where there was some light, she gave me that “what have you and Gene done” look, and the power came back on.  Whew, apparently it was just a coincidental power outage in the neighborhood.  In the two days since, no more events, and the heater is working great.  Thanks Gene.

So with all the heat I needed there was no excuse not to move on and start sanding down the rod bearing caps.  I had made the decision not to take Dr. Virkinhard’s advice and buy new bearings, etc, but to take the IB’s advice and sand down the bearings to reduce all the clearances to .002.  There were some fits and starts on the project, but the key was finally moving down to 80 grit sandpaper, duct-taping it to my table saw and putting a lot of downward pressure on the bearing cap.  I moved steadily from cap No.1 through No. 3, but on cap No. 4 it seemed I was doing a lot of sanding and not making much progress.  Here’s a couple of pictures.

I decided to put down a fresh piece of sandpaper and give er hell, and that second picture shows how the cap looked after the second go round.  Hairy little bugger isn’t it.  I think there is some lesson to be learned there about positive and negative poles, but the lesson I learned is NEXT TIME TAKE IT EASY.  After I put that cap back in the engine, and did the plastigage test, I found I’d overshot my .002 goal significantly, so that in fact, the crank would no longer turn without some real effort.  Rats.  The IB says not to worry, shims should bring it back up to the correct tolerance.  Whew again! 

I’ve still got the two main engine bearing caps to do, but after that this project could start to get fun.  Shortly I’ll be ordering a new set of piston rings and a full engine gasket set, so that the work of rebuilding can begin.  I’m actually starting to get pretty excited, nervous too.  That’s pretty much the way I feel at about this time every year as Christmas approaches.  I love it!  Thanks for reading. 

 

Yumpin Yimminy!

I often feel as I’m struggling with The Pony, or as  I’m writing about struggling with The Pony that very few people are out there.  So when someone occasionally comes out to the woodwork to express an opinion, I am happily surprised.  I got a nice comment like that this week from subscriber,  Marcus Burhana, who said he “stumbled upon my blog.”  Listen Marcus, if you got injured in the fall and you’re settin me up for a lawsuit forget about it.  You won’t get a dime out of me, and if you’ve been reading you know The Pony isn’t worth the effort.

But then I got an email last night that really brought me up short.  I cut and pasted it into a word document, so that I could insert it in this post, but when I hit spell check the computer almost blew-up.  You’ll see why.  I decided to leave it just as I received it.  Here you go.
__________________________________________________________

 INTERNATIONAL PONY CERTIFICATION BOARD

 Dear Herr Boehmke,

Please allow me, introduce myself. My name is Professor von Verkinhard and I am ze chairman of ze board for ze  I.P.C.B. located in Berlin. Our board considers itself as overseeer and quality control group for all Massy Harris Pony tractors undergoing overhauls and restorations.

Earlier zes week, our satilite surveillance team, headed by Dr. Bloginheimer, detected some “key” cell phone chatter vit some I.B. guy originating from California and relating to zome current Pony project zomewhere in ze North Carolina state vid key words like .005”, then .00015, and zomething about “sanding bearing caps”.  Ze good Doctor then found your blog site, and called an emergency board meeting to see if ve could possibly still save zes particular Pony project from destruction which vas looking plenty much afraid then too yet.

Ze board covered all aspects of your project and found good overall attention to quality and details for most of your rebuild. Hiring a towing company to remove ze Pony from the woods was vunderbar!  Doing ze restoration insitu would have been a really zilly thing. Great decision you did have here.  Using ze original Pony red paint showed attention to detail for originality and ze valve job will most assuredly aid in breathing, by gollies.  Having Dr. Fullofit and his team perform their life saving procedures on the Pony’s heart, zit vas a brilliant move on your part. Gott bless Dr. Fullofit and his staff! Ve always give ze highest ratings to ze LRPCC. Dr. is a real miracle worker and von heck of a good looking gentleman!

Now, suddenly ve read that you have been consulting wit zomeone in ze west coast using ze initials I.B. as zome kint of cover.

Mr. Boehmke, zes I.B. guy is a real schnotski, or how you call it?, real nut job? You’re doing a quality restoration and Mr. I.B. is telling you to start sanding ze Ponies bearing caps down to get still better fit!  Our recording secretary, Hans, wants to know vhat zis guy is schmoking. Vhat ever it is, Hans vants a kilo! (could make a fine tune of dat!)

Holyschmackers Herr Boehmke, you must really be getting desperate! Ze board reviewed ze pictures of ze bearing shells and our dynamometer engineer, Fritz Krankerhoff, concluded that the bearings vill work very vell in ze rebuilt engine, for about 12.7 seconds at vich point ze engine bearings vill overheat and ze engine vill seize up and freeze. Please take our advice, dump zis I.B. guy. You need to pump ze ole Cost-OH-Meter up another 600 Deutsch Marks, grind ze crankshaft and buy ze new bearings. Fire zes crazy man quick in a rush.

Ve vill be vatching zes project much more closely now that ve know vat you are dealing with.

If you have any more zilly suggestions from Mr. I.B., ve have ways of dealing with zes nutty fruitcake guys. Ve now have Fruitcakes’s profile: Daily flat tires on I.B.’s bicycle vill get his attention and he vill be out of your head hair for sure.

 Auf Wiedersehen,
P. Verkinhard
__________________________________________________________
Wow, I didn’t realize there were people (using that term loosely) out there paying this much attention to my efforts.  In this age of Wikeleaks, etc I need to be more careful.

I’m just going to put this out there as a post, and do a real one maybe tomorrow.  I have noticed though that (wonder of wonders) if I don’t write stuff, people don’t read it!  Thanks for reading…even this silly stuff.