I'm a bit of a stickler when it comes to being on time. If I tell someone I'm going to be somewhere I'm there. If the occasion arises when I don't show, then something has gone horribly wrong.
I'm active in a community shop called the port city maker space. They have all sorts of classes and workshops to help everyone from the technically challenged to seasoned pros gain useful knowledge.
They also supply tools and work space to aid people in creating whatever they want. There was a suggestion that we have a group build, to gather all the member who would like to participate and combine our knowledge to achieve some goal.
We decided that we would build a 3D printer. They are all the rage with the techno suave right now.
Our first official meeting was going to be april tenth but due to some scheduling conflict's they moved it one week later.
Being the type of person who hates to be late I left work and drove the hour up to the shop and I was early, about twenty four hours early.
Now let me tell you how important it is to read the schedule correctly.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
The Waiting Room
So, in the past few days my Mother ended up in the hospital and had open heart surgery. She is now resting, as best she can, in her room. My father and I wanted to be at the hospital when she came out of surgery so I met him at their house and we drove one car in.
Upon arriving at the hospital we found the parking garage and sought out a slot for the car. It seemed like there was a convention in town that went horribly wrong. There were very few spots to pick from and the traffic driving around looked like a bunch of people playing musical chairs. Wait for it, there's one grab it.
Once we secured the car we headed into the side entrance, which was about a hundred feet to the left of the main entrance. Inside it looked like a well worn train station. the carpets were dingy and the furniture was aged. My dad found the information desk and asked the gentleman behind the counter where we could find my mother. He told us to go through the doors behind him and just past the inside, on the left, will be some elevators. Take the elevator down to the second floor and when you exit the elevator take a left then another left, walk a long way down the corridor and the PACU will be down there.
Well, we walked through the doors and looked to the left, no elevator. So we walked a little further in and still no sign of a lift. We turned around and walked back through the doors. Maybe he said to walk down the corridor and that's where the lifts are. No luck, but we were now in the main lobby and we found another information desk. My dad asked the same questions. We were told to walk to the cafeteria and take a left just before it, walk down the hall and the elevators would be on the left, the take the elevator up to the sixth floor, exit, turn left then left again down the hallway to the east wing were we then turn right, follow down to the nurses desk take a right and the room is half way down the hall on the right. Yeah, I got it.
We masterfully followed the instructions and arrived at her room, which was empty. We asked a nurse if she could help us find my mother and she obliged. She was down in the PACU on the second floor. Just go to the end of the corridor and take a left at . . .
She must have noticed the tick I was developing on my face so she stopped and said, 'Go to the end of this hall and take the elevator at the end, but don't tell anyone I told you.' We were then instructed to take a left off the elevator and at the end of the hall is were we would find the waiting room.
We found the door to the waiting room and I opened it, there were no lights on, so I shut it. I told my dad that there must be a mistake. I peered into the room again and this time I noticed people sitting in the seats. Must be the right place. I called the nurses station to let them know we were there and then sat down.
The room was almost full of people, nine of them (the room was small). And after a few minutes I figured out that they were all together. And they were from Lowell. The group was mostly young kids with two or three adults. I sat back and listened to the conversation they were having. The kids were murdering the english language and very animated with a lot of expressive body language.
You must use your imagination and picture arms flailing about and bodies contorting around invisible corners all while the expression of complete seriousness is on their faces.
'Yo, I heard Twinkies are com'n back' said one young lad.
'Word, I tink little deb bought the ba'kry." replied the young lad's brother.
'Did'yano, Twinkies don't burn? Imeanya can't catch 'em on fiya, yo." said another sibling.
'Yah, I heard that Twinkies are inflammable, your right" said the mother.
And that, readers, is why we removed the word inflammable from the various explosive containers we see every day.
My mom is doing well.
Upon arriving at the hospital we found the parking garage and sought out a slot for the car. It seemed like there was a convention in town that went horribly wrong. There were very few spots to pick from and the traffic driving around looked like a bunch of people playing musical chairs. Wait for it, there's one grab it.
Once we secured the car we headed into the side entrance, which was about a hundred feet to the left of the main entrance. Inside it looked like a well worn train station. the carpets were dingy and the furniture was aged. My dad found the information desk and asked the gentleman behind the counter where we could find my mother. He told us to go through the doors behind him and just past the inside, on the left, will be some elevators. Take the elevator down to the second floor and when you exit the elevator take a left then another left, walk a long way down the corridor and the PACU will be down there.
Well, we walked through the doors and looked to the left, no elevator. So we walked a little further in and still no sign of a lift. We turned around and walked back through the doors. Maybe he said to walk down the corridor and that's where the lifts are. No luck, but we were now in the main lobby and we found another information desk. My dad asked the same questions. We were told to walk to the cafeteria and take a left just before it, walk down the hall and the elevators would be on the left, the take the elevator up to the sixth floor, exit, turn left then left again down the hallway to the east wing were we then turn right, follow down to the nurses desk take a right and the room is half way down the hall on the right. Yeah, I got it.
We masterfully followed the instructions and arrived at her room, which was empty. We asked a nurse if she could help us find my mother and she obliged. She was down in the PACU on the second floor. Just go to the end of the corridor and take a left at . . .
She must have noticed the tick I was developing on my face so she stopped and said, 'Go to the end of this hall and take the elevator at the end, but don't tell anyone I told you.' We were then instructed to take a left off the elevator and at the end of the hall is were we would find the waiting room.
We found the door to the waiting room and I opened it, there were no lights on, so I shut it. I told my dad that there must be a mistake. I peered into the room again and this time I noticed people sitting in the seats. Must be the right place. I called the nurses station to let them know we were there and then sat down.
The room was almost full of people, nine of them (the room was small). And after a few minutes I figured out that they were all together. And they were from Lowell. The group was mostly young kids with two or three adults. I sat back and listened to the conversation they were having. The kids were murdering the english language and very animated with a lot of expressive body language.
You must use your imagination and picture arms flailing about and bodies contorting around invisible corners all while the expression of complete seriousness is on their faces.
'Yo, I heard Twinkies are com'n back' said one young lad.
'Word, I tink little deb bought the ba'kry." replied the young lad's brother.
'Did'yano, Twinkies don't burn? Imeanya can't catch 'em on fiya, yo." said another sibling.
'Yah, I heard that Twinkies are inflammable, your right" said the mother.
And that, readers, is why we removed the word inflammable from the various explosive containers we see every day.
My mom is doing well.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
I'm back
Boy, it has been a busy couple of days and I have a little time to sit and type.
There has not been any progress with the RV this week due to unforeseen circumstances. But I'm here today and I will get something done. I also teach a machine shop class that is today and tomorrow but I will manage so squeeze in some quality work time.
The goal for this weekend is to replace the alternator and voltage regulator.
I will also make a battery tray seeing that the current one is missing. The battery is currently sitting atop the horn and some other nondescript objects.
I have decided to pull out the shower stall after all, I can't leave it in place and be comfortable without the knowledge that it is in good shape. It shouldn't be that difficult to do.
More later. . .
There has not been any progress with the RV this week due to unforeseen circumstances. But I'm here today and I will get something done. I also teach a machine shop class that is today and tomorrow but I will manage so squeeze in some quality work time.
The goal for this weekend is to replace the alternator and voltage regulator.
I will also make a battery tray seeing that the current one is missing. The battery is currently sitting atop the horn and some other nondescript objects.
I have decided to pull out the shower stall after all, I can't leave it in place and be comfortable without the knowledge that it is in good shape. It shouldn't be that difficult to do.
More later. . .
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Family matters
I picked up the new alternator last night and hopefully i will be installing it this weekend.
I've had a family emergency and my schedule is a little unpredictable. My current situation is a bit sureal so I may not post for a few days. I will be back.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
If it's not one thing . . .
Let me tell you, yesterday was a beautiful day to work on the old RV. I had purchased a fuel line the night before at my favorite auto parts store. ( They let me in the stock area now so I can pick what I need. )
Armed with the stuff I need I had two goals, fix the damn leak and figure out why my left front directional isn't working.
I started by roughly shaping the 5/16" steel line to the shape that the old line is in. Next I removed the old line. Then I tried a dry fit of the new line. It was about two feet too long so I trimmed it down. I didn't like where the old line was run mainly because there is another path that is WAY easier.
A couple of bends here and there along with some choice words and I secured the fitting to the pump.
Ok, bottom is done. On the top I bent the line in a more pleasing shape that would not be in the way of any future work and attached the fuel filter.
I gave the throttle a pump and turned the key, hmm, it sounds a little slow. It fired right up and after inspection I found no leaks. I fooled with the timing a little to see if I could get it any better so I needed to shut the engine down to hook up the timing light.
I could not locate the timing indicator on the engine. There was too much in the way so I could not get a direct line of sight. I crawled under and looked around then I tried to feel for it. No luck.
I will have to get a mirror up there and do some creative tinkering to get the timing right.
All is not lost, I can still see how steady the engine it. What I mean by that is when you hold a timing light on the crank pulley it will freeze it so you can see the timing mark. If there is a vacuum leak the mark will jump around and not hold steady. There are a few other things that will cause it to jump around as well but those things would be bad.
So I turned the key and this is what I heard, ruh. . . . ruh . . . click click click. Damn battery is dead.
I jumped the engine from my escort and proceeded with my task putting aside the charging problem for later.
It was steady as a rock. Good.
Now what the heck is wrong with my alternator?
I found my voltmeter and hooked it up to the battery while the engine purred away.
11.8 volts, 11.75, 11.7. Damn.
I was taught a valuable lesson when I was younger about the charging system in a Chrysler product. When the external regulator fails it cooks the alternator and when the alternator fails it cooks the regulator. Lesson was, change them in pairs. I have found this to be true in the other two Chrysler vehicles I have owned. One other lesson I was taught was always carry a spare ballast resister. So I keep a ballast resistor in my glove box next to a pair of clean underwear.
So I ordered a new rebuilt alternator and regulator and I will put them in this weekend.
While I was under the van I also noticed that I may want to change the transmission lines, they are a little sketchy. The trick is to keep the fluid inside.
My directional light was a bit easier to figure out. After removing the light assembly from the grill I pulled the bulb out and cleaned the corrosion off of it and the socket. A replace the lamp with a new one and tried it out. Nothing.
I traced the wires back and found the problem. It was unplugged. It works now although I have to figure out why it's not flashing with the headlights on. Oh, well. It was getting late so I packed up for the night.
Armed with the stuff I need I had two goals, fix the damn leak and figure out why my left front directional isn't working.
I started by roughly shaping the 5/16" steel line to the shape that the old line is in. Next I removed the old line. Then I tried a dry fit of the new line. It was about two feet too long so I trimmed it down. I didn't like where the old line was run mainly because there is another path that is WAY easier.
A couple of bends here and there along with some choice words and I secured the fitting to the pump.
Ok, bottom is done. On the top I bent the line in a more pleasing shape that would not be in the way of any future work and attached the fuel filter.
I gave the throttle a pump and turned the key, hmm, it sounds a little slow. It fired right up and after inspection I found no leaks. I fooled with the timing a little to see if I could get it any better so I needed to shut the engine down to hook up the timing light.
I could not locate the timing indicator on the engine. There was too much in the way so I could not get a direct line of sight. I crawled under and looked around then I tried to feel for it. No luck.
I will have to get a mirror up there and do some creative tinkering to get the timing right.
All is not lost, I can still see how steady the engine it. What I mean by that is when you hold a timing light on the crank pulley it will freeze it so you can see the timing mark. If there is a vacuum leak the mark will jump around and not hold steady. There are a few other things that will cause it to jump around as well but those things would be bad.
So I turned the key and this is what I heard, ruh. . . . ruh . . . click click click. Damn battery is dead.
I jumped the engine from my escort and proceeded with my task putting aside the charging problem for later.
It was steady as a rock. Good.
Now what the heck is wrong with my alternator?
I found my voltmeter and hooked it up to the battery while the engine purred away.
11.8 volts, 11.75, 11.7. Damn.
I was taught a valuable lesson when I was younger about the charging system in a Chrysler product. When the external regulator fails it cooks the alternator and when the alternator fails it cooks the regulator. Lesson was, change them in pairs. I have found this to be true in the other two Chrysler vehicles I have owned. One other lesson I was taught was always carry a spare ballast resister. So I keep a ballast resistor in my glove box next to a pair of clean underwear.
So I ordered a new rebuilt alternator and regulator and I will put them in this weekend.
While I was under the van I also noticed that I may want to change the transmission lines, they are a little sketchy. The trick is to keep the fluid inside.
My directional light was a bit easier to figure out. After removing the light assembly from the grill I pulled the bulb out and cleaned the corrosion off of it and the socket. A replace the lamp with a new one and tried it out. Nothing.
I traced the wires back and found the problem. It was unplugged. It works now although I have to figure out why it's not flashing with the headlights on. Oh, well. It was getting late so I packed up for the night.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Automotive Parts Stores
Ok, this may be a little bit of a vent for me but I was out buying parts for my RV and it seems that whenever I go to the parts store I always end up with the dolt who knows nothing about cars. I just ask for simple things like light bulbs, brake lines and the occasional bearing. What I am confronted with are the standard questions, what's the year, make model, blah blah blah.
I know it's more efficient than the old fashion way of having employees with a good knowledge of cars who know off the top of their head what the basics are. Breath.
Sometimes I like to mess with them like one time I needed a bearing for a project I was working on which was completely as far from a car as you can get. Sure, I could have ordered it through one of the bearing suppliers I usually deal with but I was on my way home and the auto parts store was there. And I was in a mischievous mood.
I walked into the store and started to browse knowing that it would only be a few minutes before someone from the sales team would descend on me and ask the magic question, Can I help you? I walked around the carefully planned aisles looking for my target carefully avoiding eye contact, and soon my patience paid off.
I saw an employee about three aisles away had noticed me and started the approach. I pretended not to notice him and started walking the other way, still browsing, although at a faster pace. I crossed into another aisle to inspect the new air fresheners all the while keeping the mark within sight.
The moment he rounded the far corner I doubled back as if I forgot to look for something. He fell for it and I turned once again and entered the high performance aisle. So, much, chrome.
This time I let the team member catch up while I was scoping out the carburetors.
"Can I help you?", I felt a little chill on the back of my neck. I told him that I was looking around and that I was working on a project and needed a bearing. He asked me to follow him back to counter where I said that I have the bearing number in hand so there was no need to . . .
"Year."
"2010", I said.
"Make."
I felt a little giddy. "My own creation."
"Um, what?
I tried to explain that the thing I need the bearing for is not a car, as a matter of fact it doesn't even have wheels.
Then I tried to give him the number and I could see his eyes glaze over. "I can't look up the part without a vehicle." he said. "Sure you can" I said and asked if he had those big bookish looking things under the counter, preferably one with 'bearing' somewhere on the cover. He pulled out a couple of hefty catalogs and placed them in front of me.
I found what I was looking for, an NSK bearing book. It was a little outdated but that's what the computer is for.
I told him that the bearing I'm replacing is a Timken and to find the NSK equivalent you have to turn to the back of the book to the cross reference guide.
After about five minutes we found the bearing, which had to be ordered.
I consider this a small victory because I may have taught a new skill to a young kid and by doing so he may be better equipped to help the next person who asks for something out of the ordinary.
When I find an auto parts store with someone who knows what they are talking about I tend to be a repeat customer. They understand that when looking up parts for my '89 jeep that the words 'does it have air conditioning?' should never be asked. Unfortunately, they always seem to get promoted or leave. I hate looking for a good part store.
My favorite store to go when I want to be entertained, and I have never been let down, is, shall we say an Advanced store. I walked in to buy an air filter for my jeep when an employee asked me the magic words. I said I was looking for an air filter but the catch is, it's not stock.
To his credit he told me that I could open up the boxes and pick one that fits. I thanked him and went about my business.
As I approached the counter he asked if I was all set to which I replied, yes. Then he threw in 'Can I interest you in fuel injector cleaner, it's on sale."
I told him that my jeep was not fuel injected, but thanks.
"Oh," he said,"you have a diesel."
Gold.
I asked him to try again and he was honestly perplexed.
After a couple of seconds I let him off the hook, "It has a carburetor."
I know I have issues, but really, as far as cheap entertainment goes, this is good stuff.
I know it's more efficient than the old fashion way of having employees with a good knowledge of cars who know off the top of their head what the basics are. Breath.
Sometimes I like to mess with them like one time I needed a bearing for a project I was working on which was completely as far from a car as you can get. Sure, I could have ordered it through one of the bearing suppliers I usually deal with but I was on my way home and the auto parts store was there. And I was in a mischievous mood.
I walked into the store and started to browse knowing that it would only be a few minutes before someone from the sales team would descend on me and ask the magic question, Can I help you? I walked around the carefully planned aisles looking for my target carefully avoiding eye contact, and soon my patience paid off.
I saw an employee about three aisles away had noticed me and started the approach. I pretended not to notice him and started walking the other way, still browsing, although at a faster pace. I crossed into another aisle to inspect the new air fresheners all the while keeping the mark within sight.
The moment he rounded the far corner I doubled back as if I forgot to look for something. He fell for it and I turned once again and entered the high performance aisle. So, much, chrome.
This time I let the team member catch up while I was scoping out the carburetors.
"Can I help you?", I felt a little chill on the back of my neck. I told him that I was looking around and that I was working on a project and needed a bearing. He asked me to follow him back to counter where I said that I have the bearing number in hand so there was no need to . . .
"Year."
"2010", I said.
"Make."
I felt a little giddy. "My own creation."
"Um, what?
I tried to explain that the thing I need the bearing for is not a car, as a matter of fact it doesn't even have wheels.
Then I tried to give him the number and I could see his eyes glaze over. "I can't look up the part without a vehicle." he said. "Sure you can" I said and asked if he had those big bookish looking things under the counter, preferably one with 'bearing' somewhere on the cover. He pulled out a couple of hefty catalogs and placed them in front of me.
I found what I was looking for, an NSK bearing book. It was a little outdated but that's what the computer is for.
I told him that the bearing I'm replacing is a Timken and to find the NSK equivalent you have to turn to the back of the book to the cross reference guide.
After about five minutes we found the bearing, which had to be ordered.
I consider this a small victory because I may have taught a new skill to a young kid and by doing so he may be better equipped to help the next person who asks for something out of the ordinary.
When I find an auto parts store with someone who knows what they are talking about I tend to be a repeat customer. They understand that when looking up parts for my '89 jeep that the words 'does it have air conditioning?' should never be asked. Unfortunately, they always seem to get promoted or leave. I hate looking for a good part store.
My favorite store to go when I want to be entertained, and I have never been let down, is, shall we say an Advanced store. I walked in to buy an air filter for my jeep when an employee asked me the magic words. I said I was looking for an air filter but the catch is, it's not stock.
To his credit he told me that I could open up the boxes and pick one that fits. I thanked him and went about my business.
As I approached the counter he asked if I was all set to which I replied, yes. Then he threw in 'Can I interest you in fuel injector cleaner, it's on sale."
I told him that my jeep was not fuel injected, but thanks.
"Oh," he said,"you have a diesel."
Gold.
I asked him to try again and he was honestly perplexed.
After a couple of seconds I let him off the hook, "It has a carburetor."
I know I have issues, but really, as far as cheap entertainment goes, this is good stuff.
Zen and the Art of RV Repair
I'm amused by how many people ask me if I think the RV will make it. My answer is and always will be of course it will. On one level I believe that anything can be fixed, be it a temporary repair or a permanent mend. I have enough belief in my own abilities that I don't worry about breakdowns. The pile of replacement parts I will have on hand along with the tools I will have will be more than adequate to repair all but the most catastrophic failures. I have figured in my budget funds for tires and a radiator if the need arises.
On another level, and you may laugh, I just know the RV won't let me down. I have a feeling for these things. Once I walked into the RV I got a sense that I belonged there, a good feeling. And I still get that every time I work on it or spend time in it.
I have had vehicles in the past that I just knew would be a problem and as it turned out I was right. You may say that I was already in that mindset and no matter what vehicle it was it was going to be trouble. That may be, but most of the difficulties were mechanical or electrical and never anything like an annoying squeak.
Thankfully, I didn't have a lot of those vehicles and I never drove them far.
Truth is, if you listen to your car and take care of it, you will never get stranded.
You should also talk to it nicely.
Every time I go up to work on it the first thing I do is start it up and listen. The Chrysler 360 has a sound of it's own. I can hear the tiny high pitch squeak of the belt I'm going to replace, the air rushing through the two barrel carburetor, the sparks arcing in the distributor as it races around. I can see the pistons and crank moving and the lifters rapidly cycling. The exhaust has a nice deep note.
Once it warms up it smooths out and purrs like a kitten. I let it warm up to operating temperature and then shut it down. Soon I will be driving it every weekend to shake out the chassis.
Every day I get a little closer.
On another level, and you may laugh, I just know the RV won't let me down. I have a feeling for these things. Once I walked into the RV I got a sense that I belonged there, a good feeling. And I still get that every time I work on it or spend time in it.
I have had vehicles in the past that I just knew would be a problem and as it turned out I was right. You may say that I was already in that mindset and no matter what vehicle it was it was going to be trouble. That may be, but most of the difficulties were mechanical or electrical and never anything like an annoying squeak.
Thankfully, I didn't have a lot of those vehicles and I never drove them far.
Truth is, if you listen to your car and take care of it, you will never get stranded.
You should also talk to it nicely.
Every time I go up to work on it the first thing I do is start it up and listen. The Chrysler 360 has a sound of it's own. I can hear the tiny high pitch squeak of the belt I'm going to replace, the air rushing through the two barrel carburetor, the sparks arcing in the distributor as it races around. I can see the pistons and crank moving and the lifters rapidly cycling. The exhaust has a nice deep note.
Once it warms up it smooths out and purrs like a kitten. I let it warm up to operating temperature and then shut it down. Soon I will be driving it every weekend to shake out the chassis.
Every day I get a little closer.
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