Friday, February 12, 2010
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
Where the F have I been?
Well... shit, I have been spending most of my time in the garage. That jeep is a time robbing whore. I am still in love... Actually, I would post some pictures, but to be honest, it still looks like a pile of rusting metal. Turns out you can put shit tons of time, money, and effort into a 68 year old car and it still looks like you haven't done anything. I just like to think that I am keeping her as a sleeper! I expect with some of the internal engine mods I have done she will be pulling about 70 horses at the crank! So no pictures till I waste some 5.0 Mustangs.
I kind of have a mechanical objects fetish. (Not like that you sick bastards!) I mean like watches, cars, guns, typewriters, aircraft, outboard motors, steam engines, and motorcycles... (This is why I am always going to need a bigger garage.) Basically I love anything that has small metal parts and can rust. The only exception to this is the bicycle. I haven't been interested in bicycles since I first figured out that you can slide a 92 Ford Explorer sideways through empty University of Washington football stadium parking lots. I am pretty sure my dad saw a spike in tire wear when I got my license. Either way, It wasn't that I wasn't interested in peddle bikes before. I even rode similar bikes to the cars I eventually would lower residential property values with. When I was in High School, I used to ride a 1940's bike all over Seattle and had about the same reputation as I do when I do rolling a 1976 Buick. Just imagine the wicked witch bike from the "Wizard of Oz" and you will have exactly the bike I used to ride correctly in your mind. What I am getting around to saying is that since I could afford to operate self-propelled vehicles, I have been totally neglecting the bicycle as a fetish object.
SHIT! Now that I think about it, they are still telling stories about my sail bike at the Gladstone yacht club! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!?!?!
Anyways, Bicycles recently came back into my life...
So there I was, drinking... when I get the call from UPS, "Dude, where are you? Come out and drink as it is a day that ends in "Y"!" How could I argue with that logic... unfortunately like I said I had already been drinking, and a bright orange 75 Cadillac ElDorado attracts cops like hornets to baby formula. I couldn't drive to the bar... what to do?!?!?
Stoke of GENIUS!!!!!
I borrow my associate's bike!
Holy shit!
I had forgotten how fast you can move on a bike! I was at the bar practically before my text that said I was on the way. No problems with parking, you can go a more direct path, don't have to follow arterials, etc. Many advantages! In addition it was a lot more fun that I had expected.
So, to sum up... with the exception of riding a bike with a flat tire to a bar in Dearborn Heights I haven't ridden a bike since high school. Now, I am in the market for a bike again. I would ride one every day to work except for that stupid base helmet rule.
If only I knew someone with knowledge about bikes... Oh well, I guess I'll have to figure it all out for myself. All I know is that I don't want any carbon fiber components in a bike and batteries explode.
And totally unrelated, I discovered through the magic of Facebook that a friend of mine from Garfield high school lives only a few blocks from me here in Albuquerque. She invited me to her and her husband's house for post-hangover-Sunday-Brunch. You don't have to have a hangover to attend, I didn't infact... but it is kind of a theme like Pirate parties... (I know, you all are wondering what happened to me that I didn't have a hangover on a Sunday morning. What can I say, I am getting old, but you can assume I am just getting really good.) Right here in the city she and her hubby have a Branch-Davidian style compound... right here in down town Albuquerque complete with dogs, workshops, and defensible walls. They even have chickens! I know were I am going when the zombies come. Surprisingly, she has hardly changed at all since high school... she said the same about me. It felt remarkably like a high school lunch with better food.
All hail FACEBOOK...
Well, those few tidbits hardly explain where the hell I have been for the last few months. I have also been part of an imaginary air campaign in the made up country of Cimaria. I swear I am not making that up... they are even paying me to do it.
For various reasons most of my CV-22 Osprey training is done in the simulator. To make things a bit more interesting the missions they have us do in the simulator get progressively more more complex... basically harder. Also, it follows a scripted campaign in the imaginary country of Cimaria. (I thought we should invade Limnathia but apparently we are now allies with them these days.) It is a lot like the flying video games where you have to fly missions all through WW2 or something like that. Start off getting bombed at Pearl Harbor and fly all the way through the end of the war... Anyways, the situation seems to be deteriorating in the imaginary country of Cimaria. We started off just flying milk-runs of humanitarian aid and doctors around the country, but we just had the class on how to run the defensive systems of the Osprey and I think the shit is about to hit the fan. The last few simulator missions haven't quite been taking medical supplies to refugee camps anymore. I hope the government of Cimaria gets there shit together or I am going to have to actually study how all these electronic doodads work in this flying tupperware computer-lab.
I kind of have a mechanical objects fetish. (Not like that you sick bastards!) I mean like watches, cars, guns, typewriters, aircraft, outboard motors, steam engines, and motorcycles... (This is why I am always going to need a bigger garage.) Basically I love anything that has small metal parts and can rust. The only exception to this is the bicycle. I haven't been interested in bicycles since I first figured out that you can slide a 92 Ford Explorer sideways through empty University of Washington football stadium parking lots. I am pretty sure my dad saw a spike in tire wear when I got my license. Either way, It wasn't that I wasn't interested in peddle bikes before. I even rode similar bikes to the cars I eventually would lower residential property values with. When I was in High School, I used to ride a 1940's bike all over Seattle and had about the same reputation as I do when I do rolling a 1976 Buick. Just imagine the wicked witch bike from the "Wizard of Oz" and you will have exactly the bike I used to ride correctly in your mind. What I am getting around to saying is that since I could afford to operate self-propelled vehicles, I have been totally neglecting the bicycle as a fetish object.
SHIT! Now that I think about it, they are still telling stories about my sail bike at the Gladstone yacht club! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!?!?!
Anyways, Bicycles recently came back into my life...
So there I was, drinking... when I get the call from UPS, "Dude, where are you? Come out and drink as it is a day that ends in "Y"!" How could I argue with that logic... unfortunately like I said I had already been drinking, and a bright orange 75 Cadillac ElDorado attracts cops like hornets to baby formula. I couldn't drive to the bar... what to do?!?!?
Stoke of GENIUS!!!!!
I borrow my associate's bike!
Holy shit!
I had forgotten how fast you can move on a bike! I was at the bar practically before my text that said I was on the way. No problems with parking, you can go a more direct path, don't have to follow arterials, etc. Many advantages! In addition it was a lot more fun that I had expected.
So, to sum up... with the exception of riding a bike with a flat tire to a bar in Dearborn Heights I haven't ridden a bike since high school. Now, I am in the market for a bike again. I would ride one every day to work except for that stupid base helmet rule.
If only I knew someone with knowledge about bikes... Oh well, I guess I'll have to figure it all out for myself. All I know is that I don't want any carbon fiber components in a bike and batteries explode.
And totally unrelated, I discovered through the magic of Facebook that a friend of mine from Garfield high school lives only a few blocks from me here in Albuquerque. She invited me to her and her husband's house for post-hangover-Sunday-Brunch. You don't have to have a hangover to attend, I didn't infact... but it is kind of a theme like Pirate parties... (I know, you all are wondering what happened to me that I didn't have a hangover on a Sunday morning. What can I say, I am getting old, but you can assume I am just getting really good.) Right here in the city she and her hubby have a Branch-Davidian style compound... right here in down town Albuquerque complete with dogs, workshops, and defensible walls. They even have chickens! I know were I am going when the zombies come. Surprisingly, she has hardly changed at all since high school... she said the same about me. It felt remarkably like a high school lunch with better food.
All hail FACEBOOK...
Well, those few tidbits hardly explain where the hell I have been for the last few months. I have also been part of an imaginary air campaign in the made up country of Cimaria. I swear I am not making that up... they are even paying me to do it.
For various reasons most of my CV-22 Osprey training is done in the simulator. To make things a bit more interesting the missions they have us do in the simulator get progressively more more complex... basically harder. Also, it follows a scripted campaign in the imaginary country of Cimaria. (I thought we should invade Limnathia but apparently we are now allies with them these days.) It is a lot like the flying video games where you have to fly missions all through WW2 or something like that. Start off getting bombed at Pearl Harbor and fly all the way through the end of the war... Anyways, the situation seems to be deteriorating in the imaginary country of Cimaria. We started off just flying milk-runs of humanitarian aid and doctors around the country, but we just had the class on how to run the defensive systems of the Osprey and I think the shit is about to hit the fan. The last few simulator missions haven't quite been taking medical supplies to refugee camps anymore. I hope the government of Cimaria gets there shit together or I am going to have to actually study how all these electronic doodads work in this flying tupperware computer-lab.
Friday, January 29, 2010
I know this isn't whitty commentary on life,
but, it has hot chicks and machines... so it is almost like a normal post for me.
Audi Driver: Hey Girls, wanna go for a spin in my fast ride?
Girls: ehh not sure, there's not even enough space for all of us
Soldier: Wazzup girls, in the mood for a joyride?
Girls: Yay!
Soldier: Join the army if you wanna drive a tank.
Soldier2: Jump in.
Audi Driver: Hey, what about the spin?
Girl: forget It, I want to drive something big!
Narrator: The Austrian Armed Forces offer unique opportunities for young people who are at least 18, everything else is just everyday life.
I didn't find it because I was youtubing "Hot chicks and tanks" I found it first on Jalopnik.com. They get the credit. Expect a real post before to long.
Audi Driver: Hey Girls, wanna go for a spin in my fast ride?
Girls: ehh not sure, there's not even enough space for all of us
Soldier: Wazzup girls, in the mood for a joyride?
Girls: Yay!
Soldier: Join the army if you wanna drive a tank.
Soldier2: Jump in.
Audi Driver: Hey, what about the spin?
Girl: forget It, I want to drive something big!
Narrator: The Austrian Armed Forces offer unique opportunities for young people who are at least 18, everything else is just everyday life.
I didn't find it because I was youtubing "Hot chicks and tanks" I found it first on Jalopnik.com. They get the credit. Expect a real post before to long.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tis the season hippies... for parties and shit.
The second holiday party that I attended this year: An associate of mine invited me to her work party. It was an entirely different scene to the max. But before I get into that, I want to clarify my definition of hippies. It has probably gotten a lot wider since I left the U of Mich. I have an easy if/then test to check if you are a hippie according to me. Do you overhear discussions of the 7.62mm Minigun vs the 50 cal Machine gun more than once a month? If "Yes," then you are not a hippie. If "No" probably a hippie.
Ok, so the second party I was going to was at an architecture firm that specializes in "Green" or low impact, sustainable tech type buildings. Obviously hippies. Anyways, it felt much more like a pizza party in a dorm common room than the prom run amok that the squadron party had been. It was cool enough, but mostly because I had never had pepperoni and green chili pizza. I recommend!
Shortly after it was acceptable, we ditched that place. I had gotten a call from UPS earlier that he was going to be up for whatever that night, so we went and picked him up to go to a different party. UPS was waiting for us in the bar at Apple-bee's. (Yea, you all know the one. Turns out they remodeled it on the inside. Not as homey for sure.) Anyways, we were on our way to a house party though I was warned that this place was going to have a lot of "REAL" hippies, not the kind that make the cut from my definition.
As soon as we walked into the back yard, UPS says, "Holy shit... a yurt!"
And he meant it.
There was a full size Mongolian yurt right there in a backyard in Albuquerque, New Mexico! So what was in the yurt you might ask? Why it was massage apparatus and a DJ of course.
I guess that checks out, either way, I needed to go to the bathroom. When I got back UPS says to me, "Dude, we need to go on a beer run..." I was slightly confused. This is a party and it is early. It wasn't a BYOB. That doesn't make sense at all! Well, it turns out there was no booze there at all! This is not to say everyone there wasn't chemically affected, but there was no alcohol. Luckily it was right next to a grocery store. So that problem was easily solved.
When we got back, we obviously were the heroes of the party because we had beer. I don't know why it didn't occur to everyone else there to do that. We passed a few of them out and took our place back next to the bonfire. That is when I realized that I was sitting next to a baby! Like a real baby that will eventually grow up and get a drivers license type baby.
After a moment of looking around at all the people toking up and tripping out, I told the baby that the only way she will be able to rebel when she is gets older is by starting a "Young Republicans Club" at her high school. I don't think she took notes. To be fair, the dad stayed completely sober and called for them to go home early for baby bed time. And, not being a drinking party, it seemed really unlikely that it was going to get rowdy, so it was probably a pretty reasonable party to take a baby to... if that can be said.
And, because I know you all will go into withdrawal if you don't get a few vehicle pictures:
I have been slowly removing the paint off the jeep so that I can find all the original markings... here is the elusive "S" from the ford factory! FOUND IT!
1942 Ford GPW S Position
Do you see the hood star hidden in there?
Some people get a little nuts/anal making sure that the markings are exact for restoration etc... then I find someing like this... the star is in the wrong possition and crooked. I would guess the stencil must have slipped when they were putting it on.
Yes, those are fresh welds on my cast iron engine block. I took the gamble with a guy that says he does it all the time on boat motors. (I guess they freeze with water in them a lot.) Anyways, it was either junk the block and pay $1300 for a new one... or let this guy try. It looks like it worked, making this the sexiest weld I have ever seen!
Ok, so the second party I was going to was at an architecture firm that specializes in "Green" or low impact, sustainable tech type buildings. Obviously hippies. Anyways, it felt much more like a pizza party in a dorm common room than the prom run amok that the squadron party had been. It was cool enough, but mostly because I had never had pepperoni and green chili pizza. I recommend!
Shortly after it was acceptable, we ditched that place. I had gotten a call from UPS earlier that he was going to be up for whatever that night, so we went and picked him up to go to a different party. UPS was waiting for us in the bar at Apple-bee's. (Yea, you all know the one. Turns out they remodeled it on the inside. Not as homey for sure.) Anyways, we were on our way to a house party though I was warned that this place was going to have a lot of "REAL" hippies, not the kind that make the cut from my definition.
As soon as we walked into the back yard, UPS says, "Holy shit... a yurt!"
And he meant it.
There was a full size Mongolian yurt right there in a backyard in Albuquerque, New Mexico! So what was in the yurt you might ask? Why it was massage apparatus and a DJ of course.
I guess that checks out, either way, I needed to go to the bathroom. When I got back UPS says to me, "Dude, we need to go on a beer run..." I was slightly confused. This is a party and it is early. It wasn't a BYOB. That doesn't make sense at all! Well, it turns out there was no booze there at all! This is not to say everyone there wasn't chemically affected, but there was no alcohol. Luckily it was right next to a grocery store. So that problem was easily solved.
When we got back, we obviously were the heroes of the party because we had beer. I don't know why it didn't occur to everyone else there to do that. We passed a few of them out and took our place back next to the bonfire. That is when I realized that I was sitting next to a baby! Like a real baby that will eventually grow up and get a drivers license type baby.
After a moment of looking around at all the people toking up and tripping out, I told the baby that the only way she will be able to rebel when she is gets older is by starting a "Young Republicans Club" at her high school. I don't think she took notes. To be fair, the dad stayed completely sober and called for them to go home early for baby bed time. And, not being a drinking party, it seemed really unlikely that it was going to get rowdy, so it was probably a pretty reasonable party to take a baby to... if that can be said.
And, because I know you all will go into withdrawal if you don't get a few vehicle pictures:
I have been slowly removing the paint off the jeep so that I can find all the original markings... here is the elusive "S" from the ford factory! FOUND IT!
1942 Ford GPW S Position
Do you see the hood star hidden in there?
Some people get a little nuts/anal making sure that the markings are exact for restoration etc... then I find someing like this... the star is in the wrong possition and crooked. I would guess the stencil must have slipped when they were putting it on.
Yes, those are fresh welds on my cast iron engine block. I took the gamble with a guy that says he does it all the time on boat motors. (I guess they freeze with water in them a lot.) Anyways, it was either junk the block and pay $1300 for a new one... or let this guy try. It looks like it worked, making this the sexiest weld I have ever seen!
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
YOU READY FOR THE MACHINE SHOP!?!?!?!
My jeep engine is now completely apart... it is in the proverbial, "No two pieces are touching" state. That is where all my time has been going.
Nick's approved Machine shop finding techniques: Feel free to take notes.
It is tough to guess by looking in a phone book to figure out where the good machine shops are, and with a 1942 engine, I don't want to take it somewhere with amateurs. I really don't want to try and find another engine block if they screw it up. So to solve the problem of finding a decent machine shop, I went out and drove around in the crappy part of town. I looked for an mechanic shop that looked only marginally like they wanted actual customers to come in and had at least eight half disassembled cars in it's chained in area that were obviously not customer's cars. I figured the kind of guys that run a shop like that would be the kind of guys that would KNOW a good machine shop.
So, I after finding just such a place... I asked them about machine shops. They gave me two that they thought did good work. The first had moved locations or had gone out of business. (At this point, I started to doubt my theory) The second one though, was better than I could have imagined! I walked in, sort of assessing them. I wouldn't want to drop the heart of my baby off with clowns! I started off asking if they could do welding on engine blocks if mine had cracks... if the do resleeving, etc. They asked what I was working on. When I told them it was a 1942 ford jeep, the guy I was talking to started quoting me engine tolerances and and details of the engine that could be known if he was very familiar with them. Though to be honest, the guy I was talking to missed one detail of the depth of the valve guides... luckily the guy who was standing right next to him corrected him as he was talking. Shit, any random place you can walk in with a 60 year old engine and they know the specs on it with out even looking them up gets my vote!
It seems my technique worked. I think from now on, I will do that with everything. If I need a good bakery, I will go ask a sketchy looking butcher, if I need a good pet store, I will visit... well, you get the idea.
Nick's approved Machine shop finding techniques: Feel free to take notes.
It is tough to guess by looking in a phone book to figure out where the good machine shops are, and with a 1942 engine, I don't want to take it somewhere with amateurs. I really don't want to try and find another engine block if they screw it up. So to solve the problem of finding a decent machine shop, I went out and drove around in the crappy part of town. I looked for an mechanic shop that looked only marginally like they wanted actual customers to come in and had at least eight half disassembled cars in it's chained in area that were obviously not customer's cars. I figured the kind of guys that run a shop like that would be the kind of guys that would KNOW a good machine shop.
So, I after finding just such a place... I asked them about machine shops. They gave me two that they thought did good work. The first had moved locations or had gone out of business. (At this point, I started to doubt my theory) The second one though, was better than I could have imagined! I walked in, sort of assessing them. I wouldn't want to drop the heart of my baby off with clowns! I started off asking if they could do welding on engine blocks if mine had cracks... if the do resleeving, etc. They asked what I was working on. When I told them it was a 1942 ford jeep, the guy I was talking to started quoting me engine tolerances and and details of the engine that could be known if he was very familiar with them. Though to be honest, the guy I was talking to missed one detail of the depth of the valve guides... luckily the guy who was standing right next to him corrected him as he was talking. Shit, any random place you can walk in with a 60 year old engine and they know the specs on it with out even looking them up gets my vote!
It seems my technique worked. I think from now on, I will do that with everything. If I need a good bakery, I will go ask a sketchy looking butcher, if I need a good pet store, I will visit... well, you get the idea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)