Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Stone Soup

(Source)
Some travelers come to a village, carrying nothing more than an empty cooking pot. Upon their arrival, the villagers are unwilling to share any of their food stores with the hungry travelers. Then the travelers go to a stream and fill the pot with water, drop a large stone in it, and place it over a fire. One of the villagers becomes curious and asks what they are doing. The travelers answer that they are making "stone soup", which tastes wonderful and which they would be delighted to share with the villager, although it still needs a little bit of garnish, which they are missing, to improve the flavor.

The villager, who anticipates enjoying a share of the soup, does not mind parting with a few carrots, so these are added to the soup. Another villager walks by, inquiring about the pot, and the travelers again mention their stone soup which has not yet reached its full potential. The villager hands them a little bit of seasoning. More and more villagers walk by, each adding another ingredient. Finally, the stone (being inedible) is removed from the pot, and a delicious and nourishing pot of soup is enjoyed by travelers and villagers alike. Although the travelers have thus tricked the villagers into sharing their food with them, they have successfully transformed it into a tasty meal which they share with the donors. (Source)
So what does a wheelbarrow have to do with the old "stone soup" story*.

I'm glad you asked...

As I posted on Sunday, this last weekend was the annual cleaning of The Pond at Chez Sarge, the sans poisson pond as it stands currently. As we labored upon that task for much of the afternoon, I was ready to call it quits for all weekend manual labor activities as the sun dipped towards the horizon. Which is when The Missus Herself announced -

Her: "Remind me that we need a new wheelbarrow tomorrow."

Me: "Uh, what's wrong with the old wheelbarrow?"

Her: "It's broken."

Now I, knowing that this wheelbarrow, which I had purchased some years ago, was a rather sturdy item, I couldn't fathom what she meant by "broken." Had a handle snapped off? Was there a hole in the bed? What could possibly be broken on a wheelbarrow which had sat in the shed since October of the previous year. So I queried -

Me: "How is it broken?"

Her: "Remember the second year we had the wheelbarrow and you had to take it down to Joe's Exxon station and get the tire fixed?"

Me: "It has a flat tire?"

Her: "Yes, there is no air in the tire."

Now I knew that she knew that Joe's Exxon was no longer a going concern. Joe had retired some years ago and no one bought him out so the old Exxon station sits alone and abandoned. Rest assured (you environmentalist types) the gasoline tanks were exhumed, the pumps were taken out and there is naught but an empty lot where I used to refuel the family vehicles once upon a time. It's all very clean and empty now. The building itself is still there, empty and forlorn looking.

But yes, the first spring after a long winter since we had purchased our very first wheelbarrow together (not as romantic as it sounds, I'll get to that in a minute), the air in the tire of the wheelbarrow in question had all gone out. The tire (tubeless I might add) had no pressurized air at all in it (it did have air, it was not a vacuum), making it somewhat useless as part of a wheelbarrow used originally to move large rocks about the estate (when we were landscaping so many moons ago at the turn of the century) then annually thereafter to convey copious amounts of mulch about the estate to where the love of my life wanted it placed. (A tale I told here, many long years ago. Okay, six years ago, a long time for a ten-year-old, not so long for a sixty-something-year-old OAFS.)

Rather than figure out how to get air into a tubeless sans air sous pression tire. I would take it down to Joe at Joe's Exxon. He would know what do do.

I was correct, Joe pressurized the tire, gave it back to me at no charge. Not one red cent did I pay, Joe was old school, great guy. Man, I miss that place.

Before returning to the present day and the tale of the unpressurized wheelbarrow tire, I would like to relate the tale of when we purchased the old wheelbarrow. So, here we go.

Where we live is not far from a hardware store, an Ace (used to be True Value) hardware store. It has been there longer than we've been in Little Rhody, of course in the cosmic scheme of things, we haven't been here all that long. Anyhoo. Once in the early years of our living here, first summer I think it was, The Missus Herself had decreed that the mostly dead grass lawn surrounding the manse would be turned into gardens and other scenic things. As she is the de facto and de jure ruler of my domain, let's just say...

(Source)
(Yes, juvat and I have a certain fondness for that phrase...)

As landscaping was to be done, we needed tools, like shovels, picks, thousands of cheap laborers, pry bars, post hole diggers, rakes, fertilizer spreaders, and yes, at least one wheelbarrow. So off to True Value (now Ace) we went to purchase said implements of landscaping. (I wanted a riding mower, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that that particular piece of kit was out of the question, I could, like my ancestors, walk behind the mower, in thrall to its two-stroke engine and loud exhaust.)

All the stuff we bought fit nicely into the trunk of our sole vehicle at the time, a 1998 Dodge Stratus, save one thing, the wheelbarrow. Hhmm, what to do, what to do?

Now I was much younger back then, and as we didn't live all that far from the hardware store, I handed The Missus Herself the keys to the family chariot and told her to head on home, I would push the wheelbarrow back. Yes, it was uphill, both ways, but there was no snow on the ground and the last saber-toothed tiger had been extinct for some thousands of years, so I felt perfectly safe pushing the shiny new wheelbarrow all the way home.

Which I did. Yes, I got a few funny looks from people driving by, wondering why some loon was pushing a new wheelbarrow up the hill with nothing in it. That's when it struck me...

What if someone saw me and assumed that I had absconded from the hardware store without actually you know, paying for said wheelbarrow? The receipt for this recently purchased wheelbarrow was with The Missus Herself. Someone could, conceivably, alert the local constabulary to the possibility of a wheelbarrow heist in progress and I might have to explain why I had a nice shiny new wheelbarrow but no receipt for said wheelbarrow.

Damn.

As it turned out, no one called the cops on Your Humble Scribe and I arrived safely at the manse, new wheelbarrow in hand. Being all sweaty for my efforts. (I did mention that it was all uphill didn't I?) As I wheel-barrowed** into the drive, I was greeted with this -

"So what took you so long?"

So yes, the purchasing of our very first wheelbarrow as a couple wasn't very romantic, though somewhat humorous in hindsight, save for that uphill part. (The whole way!)

Now there we were some nineteen years later and the wheelbarrow tire sans air sous pression incident was repeating itself. (Deja vous all over again, right Yogi?) But this time there was a couple of differences, Joe's Exxon was no more, so getting him to fill the tire was right out, however, the Internet could quite possibly provide a solution to my sans air sous pression dilemma. And so it did.

(Source)
Wrap a rope around the circumference of the tire, use something to twist the rope, like the old Spanish method of executing miscreants (though without the actual miscreant), one garrotes the tire. So to speak. So Sunday afternoon, I got some rope, a large screwdriver (in lieu of the hammer shown in the picture) and garroted my flat tire. Er...

Actually what this does is draw the tire to the bead on the wheel rim (or is the bead on the tire, or is it both? Hhmm...) and then one can pump air into the tire and it should seal. Which it did. I used my handy-dandy bicycle pump to get a good seal. Now rather than pump the tire up to regulation pressure (something which some New Englanders allegedly have trouble with) with the bicycle pump, or take the tire down to the local petrol station to use the handy-dandy (used to be free now costs a buck) air station, I decided to go ahead and reinstall the thing on the wheelbarrow and pump it up there. Should have worked.

Note the use of "should have worked."

As you might guess, it did not. Damn thing lost all the air as soon as I hooked up the pump. At that point I used some rather colorful Anglo-Saxon epithets and called it a day. I determined to go to the gas station after work on Monday and do it then. (I was under something of a deadline as we had an immense amount of mulch due in on Tuesday.)

Got home from work, grabbed the tire, rope, and screwdriver and headed to the Shell station. Where I failed utterly to introduce pressurized air in any usable quantity into the wheelbarrow tire. Sorely vexed I was.

So off to where I bought the wheelbarrow (was True Value, now Ace), figuring that as they assemble wheelbarrows for selling to the landscaping public, surely they could rectify my sans air sous pression dilemma.

Apparently the manufacturers ship unassembled wheelbarrows to Ace with tires that either require no pressurized air or are already correctly inflated. I dunno.

Upon arrival at Ace, I waved my depressurized wheelbarrow tire above my head and inquired as to the possibility of getting my dilemma rectified. Two ladies at the front registers said that, "Yes, yes we can. Surely Tyler can do that. Let me page him." (Or words to that effect.)

Unfortunately Tyler informed the ladies that no, he couldn't do that, the store has no air compressor. Yes, c'est dommage.

While the ladies apologized profusely for their error in heightening my expectations, I told them. "Not to worry, I have a Plan B. I'll be right back."

Taking the tire to my vehicle and depositing it therein, I then returned to the store. As I walked in I headed past the ladies and straight back to the wheelbarrow section. Selecting the model depicted above, I returned to the registers and announced, somewhat dramatically, my intention to purchase said wheelbarrow. Which gave the ladies something of a chuckle (which had been my intent). Also the senior of the two ladies told me that as they had misinformed me as to the store's air compressing capabilities, they would knock five dollars off the price of said wheelbarrow.

Gladly I assented and purchased the aforementioned wheelbarrow. This time I did not have to push it home (uphill all the way) but realized that it would actually fit in the back of Big Girl, my Honda Element. All I need do was lower the back seats to their horizontal position, load the wheelbarrow up, and head home.

Much to The Missus Herself's delight, she loves her new wheelbarrow. I felt, so proud...

Anyhoo, what does that have to do with Stone Soup Sarge, huh? What does it all mean in the grand scheme of things.

Glad you asked...

The Missus Herself, the overseer of all landscaping projects at Chez Sarge uses the "stone soup" method of announcing a task, some might call what she does "mission creep." I would, but not within earshot of the love of my life.

It kinda goes like this -

Her: "Saturday we're going to clean the pond."

Saturday dawns and we commence to cleaning the pond.

Her: "While we're out here, I want to rearrange these heavy stones which are the basis for the waterfall."

So we do that, then there is fertilizer to be relocated from her car to the back yard.

Then there are leaves to rake up along the fence line, then there is a wheelbarrow issue to be resolved...

Like I said, "stone soup."

Still and all, I wouldn't trade my existence for any other...

Now if you would excuse me for the nonce, I need to go call the TruGreen guys to reschedule them and then call the lawn mower guys to awaken them from their winter slumbers and see if they will come cut the grass this week, and then, and then, and then...

Don't eat all the stone soup before I get back.







* Said tale, FWIW, when told to me as a wee bairn was called "rock soup." Stone, rock, what's the difference? Ask Peter.
** Not to be confused with this.

134 comments:

  1. "Mission creep"...I like that. I have a husband who does that...lets go for a ride in the side-by-side to check the game cams...oh. look, lets grab that fire wood while we are here...can you help me for a minute with this whatis here at the barn...etc, etc.

    I finally got smart and, now, grab a pair of gloves whenever we walk out the door, cause I just know there are some projects he wants me to do, or to help him with, I just don't know what they are yet! Lol

    ReplyDelete
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    1. You and WSF got the "sneak preview" when I put the wrong date in for publishing.

      Yes, "mission creep" is a thing, politicians do it all the time when it comes to military operations. Not saying my wife is a politician, but...

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    2. "Sneak preview"...was wondering about that given the posted time, and the fact I was looking at it many hours after that time, with NO ONE else commenting...thought that was weird...so I didn't claim the coveted First Comment of the Day award. Then I looked a little later, and it was GONE!! Hmmm, I thought... ;)

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    3. Yes, the bridge crew had a "switchology" problem.

      Picked the wrong day on the calendar to publish the post. Sigh, it happens.

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    4. Uh, huh. Sure you're not just getting old, AFSarge?

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    5. I can neither confirm nor deny that.

      ;)

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    6. Actually I have been sleeping rather well as of late.

      Surprises me too.

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    7. Well, then you've been treading correctly.

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  2. Surely even in the backwoods of Rhode Island, one can buy, new, a mounted and ready to go wheelbarrow tire and rim. Then you will have two wheelbarrows, one that can be donated to your church yard sale fundraiser. Or, go to a tire store and have the old tire repaired/replaced.

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    1. You too got the "sneak review. (I need to pay attention when I'm pressing buttons.)

      Yes, we have all that in Rhode Island and the old wheelbarrow will be brought back to mission capable status. It's just that the timing of the wife's project didn't allow me the time (nor the effort) to do any of those things. Easier to just buy a new wheelbarrow.

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    2. Two is one, one is none...

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    3. Home Despot, (b)Lowe's and on-line are where you can purchase a new tire assembly, assembled, of the punctureless and airless variety. Thus you can swap out said dead tire for the new undead tire.

      Or go to a tire store and have them charge about the same price to fix the miscreant.

      I like the first two stores, as it gives me the same visceral feel wandering around that stuff as an ancient hunter looking out at vast herds of animals.

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    4. Well yes, I know that. While I am lazy, I am not a simpleton. Don't believe those stories people tell about me.

      I don't get that feeling in those two places, I only get that feeling when actually hunting. Which was an awfully long time ago. (Post-mammoth mind you.)

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    5. I passed one that still looked perfectly good. You can find it on the right side of I-90 just west of Painesville.

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  3. They sell just such things at Home Depot. Why don't you have a compressor?

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    1. I also don't have a router nor a turret lathe. Nice to have but I would only use them once in a blue moon, same goes for the compressor.

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    2. I thought everybody had a turret lathe? What do you use, when you are lathering turrets? :)

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    3. lathering turrets!! Goodness, talk about Spring Cleaning!!!

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    4. My, how this conversation turned. I hear Bath Industrial sells good lathes for spring cleaning...

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    5. I just want a Pantherturm in the front yard...

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    6. Me? I want a dual 5" 38 caliber mount, like off of an Iowa..

      Or one of those sexy autoloading 76mm naval mounts that Italy is selling. Armored up, of course.

      Though my apartment manager might have an issue with either one...

      And the nice thing is, either way, I'd still be better gunned than a Zumwalt or an LCS...

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    7. Yes, yes you would.

      Which is a very sad state of affairs.

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    8. We were a test ship for a plan to put a bushmaster on MSOs before deploying to the Arabian Gulf. The engineers came out, took a look at the deck and said, maybe it would work if you wanted one that was purely internal and could only be fired in the engine room. They reckoned the deck would stand up to about 6 or 7 rounds and then the whole shebang would collapse into Main Control. Needless to say, we deployed without any wizzbang 25mm gatling guns. Darn!

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  4. Ayup...... as Scott says, local Home Depot/Menards carry several, even Amazon can supply such an item. Try your Ace. Tire on the old snow thrower caused me to purchase one, not expensive and handy to have. Believe mission creep is inevitable around the homestead, isn't that Newton's fourth Law? .... :)

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    1. Like I told Scott...

      Mission creep always occurs at my house. I always ask for a clear objective, seldom get one.

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    2. Better mission creep than creepy missions. Considering where you live, you could always be tasked to deal with some Lovecraftian horror living in your pond. Now that I think of it, maybe that's where your fish went...

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    3. There's signage indicating that progs, not frogs, aren't allowed in the pond.

      Or did you have a different horror in mind?

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    4. Would be neat if said sign actually exists. And was approved by TMH.

      Eldritch horrors await, in deep waters. In Florida, we have an amoeba that likes to travel from nostril or ear to brain, and kill the host. I would consider that an eldritch horror of the lovecraftian variety.

      Up there in Little Rhody, who knows? Errant francophones from Canada, the occasional masshole, some drunk from Warwick, who knows what will turn up?

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    5. Would be neat, approval would not be forthcoming.

      Tropical waters are always rife with something that wants to kill you.

      Great Whites do like the waters off Cape Cod, lots of seals out that way.

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    6. A few years ago, on Christmas morning, if all times, I saw a story on the morning news, about Great Whites being caught measured, and released off of Mass. The shark would be shunned in, caught with a barbless hook, brought into a small floating dock, which would be pumped out. A piece of pipe with a slot cut into it, would be used as a hook rempver, while another would be out in the shark's mouth and water pumped over the gills. The shark would be measured, weighed, and tagged. Then the dock would be flooded, and the shark would swim off.

      Great Whites are among the sharks that segregate themselves by sex, except during the mating season. All the ones that were caught were fenales, around 13 feet long. The female Great White becomes an adult at about 15 feet. So these were, in effect, teenage girls. Pickup sized critters, that were not yet adults!

      In a statement of the stupidness that we live in, did you know that Great White is frowned upon? You are supposed to just call them White Sharjs, as calling them Great White Sharks implies they are Great, because they are White. How Silly.

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    7. I ignore such oblivious excrement from the perpetually offended.

      There was actually a show on one of the Discovery-type channels where they were doing that catching, measuring, then release thing. Those are some very big fish. (The "woke" probably don't know that "great" can also mean "large.")

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    8. StB:

      From the time hack on your comment, I see that the sun was over the yardarm; but seriously, were you typing with mittens on your hands? I know that I earlier complained about maybe being out of a job, but you didn't need to be quite so helpful.
      (I hope you are not offended by my comment; I have been known to have my fingers on the wrong keys and type in a language unknown to anyone else. )

      PLQ

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    9. Yes, he's the original OG Ogf!

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    10. "...original OG Ogf!" Outstandingly Great?

      PLQ

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    11. Original Gangsta! Straight outa (insert wherever the heck you are located)!

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  5. The difference between man and not-man is tools. There's an old shop teacher I really like on tubeofyou that has a blurb in his intro about buying a tool a week. Good sound advice. Thanks Mr. Pete.

    I would be in a world of hurt if I didn't have so many tools that I can't find what I need and have to zip to the hardware store to buy a duplicate or triplicate of what I know I have, but can't find now.... I usually find it when I go to store my prized purchase, and set it down side by side, to be forgotten and duplicated yet again.... I could almost start my own GSA surplus store....

    I haven't lost my air compressor tho. Too big to miss... Get some of that green whale snot what seals tires and bring it over. I'll air it up for you.... (crud, where is that air chuck, I just had it.....)

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    1. Because I only have a very basic set of tools, for the things I know how to do, or have time to do, I seldom misplace anything.

      I have what I need, if I had more, The Missus Herself would, no doubt, have more projects. Keeping it simple, I am a lazy old coot.

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    2. Agree.
      I need to dust off the craft cutter and heat press and make the, "He Who Dies With The Most Tools Wins!" t shirt.

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    3. Mine says "Toys," not "Tools."

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    4. The air chuck is on that dusty little shelf under where the hose hangs on the wall for the air compressor. Don't ask how I know...sigh.

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    5. Which describes fairly well how often an air compressor would be used at Chez Sarge.

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    6. What, you are not drawn by some ancient genetic urge to collect tools? You don't stop and rescue that screwdriver on the side of the road, have 3 routers when you barely use one, need to tear down your Shopsmith just because, not because you used it, or have power tools because???

      Oh, that's right. You have the book gene...

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    7. The only tools I collected in the past go "bang" when you pull the trigger. Now those are tools.

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    8. Some tools go bang. Some are used for cutting, slicing, crushing, and then there are tools designed to remove body parts (they call those tools 'routers' and 'skill saws' and such...)

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    9. Okay, they're not really designed to remove body parts, but sometimes shite happens.

      I guess they call them "skill saws" as it takes a certain amount of skill to not remove body parts. I have one, and it scares the shite out of me every time I use it, though I have yet to remove a body part with it. Perhaps a little fear is a good thing...

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    10. The professional wood worker who gave me some good tips on using a router told me it was first designed as a gyroscopic instrument of torture and murder, and then found to be a neat way to edge and shape wood. He was missing part of his pinky, which he said unintentionally became part of a bed-frame.

      I am careful of power tools but especially of the router. Seriously, anything that can be substituted for a gyroscope in a nuclear delivery vehicle and probably manage to kill more people than the nuke is something to be feared. Plug it in, turn it on and you can see evidence of a microscopic black hole forming, as it begins to fold space and gravity into itself, an event horizon forms, and body parts and loose jewelry or clothing are drawn in by the increase of gravity... Plus, it's fun to use, once you tame it!

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    11. My inner Frenchman cringes at the word rout.

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    12. Beans, while I love the job they can do cutting, band saws give me the Bernie jeebies. They are also known as meat saws, you know. Still, I am in the market for one.

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    13. Beans-You are quite correct. The tip of my left middle finger has a slightly gnawed look because of a slight close encounter of the third kind with a router.
      And like most tools, one is never enough. There is the starter router in 1/4", then the plunge router in the same size, then a bigger project that needs a 1/2" router, then a plunge router in 1/2", then your wife suggests (suggests. Hah!) that we should make new doors and drawer fronts for our kitchen, and then you get another 1/2" plunge router because setting up the pair of rail and stile bits is really fiddly, and once set you don't want to swap them.
      Oh, and the trim router, and the trim router with dust collection.
      And parting with a tool once I have it my possession? It was easier for Frodo to give up the ring.

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    14. Scott - Don't band saws need blood to survive? No, just no.

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    15. John - That's a lot of routers!

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    16. Even woodworking has mission creep, and my father taught me you can do good work with the wrong tool, but it is easier to use the right tool.
      I also have a pretty large number of iron headed beating sticks. (hammers)
      'Cause sometimes the problem is a nail.

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    17. What? No dedicated shaper table? (basically a router type thingy but you move the wood over the table sized tool, not move the router over the wood, for those who don't know what a shaper is, in reference to wood-working tools, well, techically a powered shaper, technically...)

      I have the plunge router my wife bought me with my dad's help. My dad's two Freuds, one smallish and one tank sized. An old school Black&Decker that is eventually destined for a router table (turns a hand router into a mini-shaper (see above explanation) and a shaper attachment for the Shopsmith. All which live in the storage shed because I now live in an apartment. Still waiting to win the lottery so I can add a house to a workshop space...

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    18. John - Iron headed beating sticks.

      Love it.

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    19. Beans - Why am I not surprised you have two Freuds, I presume they are tools, not psychiatrists, but...

      Okay, sometimes a tool is just a tool...

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    20. Beans-Never graduated to the shaper, because at some point we ran out of places in our home to put the things we made.
      Both of the 1/2" plunge routers are set up in router table attachments that fit between the table saw rails, and we had both of them in use for the rails and stiles of the kitchen cabinet door project.

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    21. Well, those WERE my dad's Freuds...

      And router tables are excellent field-expedient shapers, since most shapers occupy a space roughly the size of a kitchen table. Thus the Shopsmith shaper, which when not attached to the Shopsmith sits lovingly on the stand on the cabinet that houses all the little pieces parts of said Shopsmith.

      If you ever have a chance to get one, well, they are fun to play with. Shapers and Shopsmiths, I mean.

      And, OldAFS... Sometimes we are just tools...

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  6. Le pneu est à plat, or Der Reifen ist flach. (Thank you Google translate)
    Our newest wheelbarrow has a solid tire.
    Adding on to what Scott and WSF said,
    https://www.harborfreight.com/material-handling/solid-flat-free-tires.html

    "Where I failed utterly to introduce pressurized air in any usable quantity into the wheelbarrow tire."
    I ran into the same problem when we replaced the tires on our elderly riding mower.

    I had the manual tool for tire mounting and dismounting and we'd used it on the previous riding mower.
    The front tire replacements went OK, but the rear tires would not expand enough to catch the rim no matter how much air I put into the stem. (my compressor is an Ingersol Rand 2 stage 5 HP model, and it will move a huge amount of air at pressures higher than most home compressors)
    The problem isn't the air pressure, it is the air volume.
    I took the tires to the tire place we use and then watched three experienced mechanics spend around a half hour on the tires and rims and also fail.
    I drew the line when they were going to use ether and flame to expand the tire onto the rim.
    (the internet abounds with advice on doing that, and it also abounds with video on what happens when the technique ends poorly)
    I took a box of Philly pretzels to them the next day as a thank you.
    The internet suggested I use a tire bead seater.
    https://www.amazon.com/Comie-Gallon-Blaster-Seating-Inflator/dp/B071LMRFQP/ref=asc_df_B071LMRFQP/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=309735728871&hvpos=1o2&hvnetw=g&hvrand=13421853948284811610&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9007306&hvtargid=pla-570730905591&psc=1
    Two days later the tire bead seater showed up at our door and my wife and I returned to do battle with the tires.
    Basically I'm going to charge a metal container of five gallons volume with compressed air, then stick the tool's nozzle into the space between the tire and rim and open a ball valve to rapidly inflate the tire onto the rim and cause it to seat.
    At the same time I have another airline attached to the stem and I've removed the core from the stem to get even more air flow.
    What could possibly go wrong?
    The first try worked perfectly. Wow, this is going to be a breeze.
    We setup for the second tire and then took seven attempts to get it seated.
    It seems that my subconscious had learned that the seating tool would make a rather loud whoosh when I turned the valve, and also the tire would make a loud pop sound when it seated.
    When we failed to seat the second tire I realized that I had developed a fear reaction. (in shooting we would call it a flinch)
    My mind would tell my hand, "Move the valve lever."
    Then my subconscious mind would panic and say, "OMG! I'm going to die! Protect yourself!"
    My subconscious mind would also tell my eyelids to clamp shut and my body to pivot slightly to avoid the expected explosion.
    When I pivoted slightly, the nozzle would move and the air blast was misdirected.
    We got the second tire seated a try or two after I realized what was happening.

    And I now have a tool that can extinguish all the candles on my birthday cake without me hyperventilating.

    I understand mission creep very well.

    Very good post. Thank you.








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    1. And it appears that "missison creep" also applies to my comments. :)

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    2. I will note the typo in "mission," before Ogf Quandt sees it. Just to take the wind out of his sails. (I know where that expression comes from, anyone else?)

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    3. wind out of his sails...um...when sailing and either a) the wind drops, or b) when turning in a sailing boat (ship) and the turn is wrong and you lose the wind? Dates back to EARLY Navy days when ships were wind powered.

      Ok, bing is my friend: if one gets upwind of the other it will take the wind out of the second vessel's sails - that is, it blocks the wind from reaching its sails, so that it suddenly loses speed and the sails flap uselessly. (This is a tactic often used in dinghy and yacht races.) Thus, when somebody anticipates your course of action or argument and frustrates it by a quick change of tactics, leaving you floundering for a reply, figuratively speaking they have taken the wind out of your sails.

      Delete
    4. Turning your blowboat such that your sails no longer are filled with air is called being 'in irons.' Which sucks, because then you're stuck waiting for either your boat to move far enough that it can catch wind again, or for your boat to stop and catch wind again. Either way, it sucks.

      One of the nice things about sailing frigates (usually only one gun deck) vs ships-of-the-line (multiple gun decks) was the ability to sail fast enough that one could maneuver and keep enough speed to keep out of irons.

      Forcing your opponent to tack incorrectly and to get in irons while you still have wind was one of the many tactics of single ship to ship fighting. Not so easy to do when 'in line' with a squadron or fleet of other ships (thus, ships-of-the-line, 'line' being the line of ships following each other.)

      Ain't sailing fun? Especially when someone is trying to put 18-32lb round shot up your keister?

      Delete
    5. Ah, but being "in irons" ("all aback"is similar) is not the same as having the wind out of one's sails.

      The former is normally caused by an ill-timed tack, the latter by an opponent blocking the wind. (Or preempting a Paul typo comment.)

      But yes, being "in irons" really sucks. ("Blowboat"? Odd, but I like it, rather poetic, in a crude kind of way. Or perhaps I should say, in a Beans kind of way. Not that they're synonymous.)

      Delete
    6. 'Blowboat' is a semi-derogatory or wholly-derogatory term used by powerboaters towards sail-power enthusiasts.

      I like sail-sailing. It's fun.

      But I also like piloting a boat that has genetic ties to Patrol Torpedo boats. Love a fast, powerful, deep-V hulled boat, well, except in the shallows, where said deep-v is not your friend.

      (Deep-V revers to the hull shape. Looking at it, bow on, the hull forms a 'v.' The shallower the 'v', the shallower draft and crappier handling characteristics in blue water when going fast and when rough. Deeper the 'v', the more the boat 'point's into the water, making a deeper draft but giving better handling in rough water. Argh, getting technical here and PaulDammit will be able to give a much better explanation...)

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    7. "(Or preempting a Paul typo comment.)" Please specify, me or Paul, Dammit?

      As for Andrew's comment, the sail boaters call the other sort ' stinkpots '.

      PLQ

      p.s.: Shall I have to go back to signing ' PLQ ' to set myself apart from the other Paul? One hopes that he ( the other Paul ) will see fit to comment more frequently, as the more Pauls the merrier, IMNSHO.

      PLQ

      Delete
    8. "I will note the typo in "mission," before Ogf Quandt sees it. Just to take the wind out of his sails." Humph! Sounds as though I am out of a job.

      PLQ

      Delete
    9. Beans - Never heard the term before. Of course, Little Rhody is big on sailing, not so much on power boating, unless one is a fisherman.

      Delete
    10. PLQ the 1st - Please specify, me or Paul, Dammit? I'm glad you capitalized "Dammit," that sentence could be read differently. ;)

      I don't find having more Pauls to be appalling, quite the contrary.

      Delete
    11. PLQ the 2nd - Out of a job? I think not, the Ogf must remain ever vigilant lest we all backslide into our old ways.

      Delete
    12. I did use 'PaulDammit' and not 'Paul', 'Paulus', 'PLQ' or any other variation. So, well, I was correct.

      I'd never purposely cross an ex-lobsta-man... That way leads to becoming bait in someone's traps...

      Delete
    13. And now I realize I should have used 'Paul, Dammit!' and not 'PaulDammit' so, well, sorry to 'Paul, Dammit!' for mislabeling him 'PaulDammit' as I am still attempting to not end up floating in the NYC Harbor, feeding alligators in South Florida or being a lobster, shrimp or crab attractant for some commercial fisherman somewhere.

      Delete
    14. Not that I think that 'Paul, Dammit!' is a violent man who would use unsavory methods to assuage his anger over being mislabeled. Of course not. College educated. A veritable gentle giant...

      Delete
    15. Beans the 1st - You spelled lobsta-man correctly. Very nice.

      Delete
    16. Beans the 2nd - BeansDammit.

      Delete
    17. But my family, friends and wife all use "Dammit, Beans!"...

      Delete
    18. As to 'Lobsta-man,' well, how else would you spell it? Florida version can be 'Bug-hunter' as Florida lobsters are without claws and nicknamed 'bugs.'

      Which is really true, as they are kinda sea-cockroaches. Not actually sea-cockroaches, but, well, they're bugs...

      Delete
    19. "Damn it Beans!" would be another variant.

      Delete
    20. The cognoscenti call 'em bugs up here as well.

      Delete
  7. They do make solid (i.e. no air at all) wheelbarrow tires. Just saying...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The new one has that, I will be finding one of those for the older one as well.

      Delete
  8. As I have often told my son, we all marry the same woman. The times I have responded to "can you come out a clip just one branch?" and ended up in total exhaustion with four trash barrels of yard waste could not be counted on the toes of a centipede.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wow, you're right. They all seem to be cut from the same mold.

      Delete
    2. And the easy fix for the tire is to remove the valve stem and put a tube in, inflate and voila.

      Delete
    3. And use some of that self-sealing tire goo spray stuff when inflating.

      Still, easiest fix, since you've already removed the tire, is to just replace the whole darned thing, like so many have already suggested you do.

      It's like this conversation is going round and round, isn't it?

      Delete
    4. It started as a simple story, an amusing story, now it's morphed into an episode on the Home and Garden Channel.

      No doubt I shall be acquiring a solid tire, though the ride will be bumpier.

      Delete
    5. Not so, the bumpy ride thingy. They have solid-solid tires, solid-gel tires, semi-solid tires, airless (very thick walls) tires and so forth. The chaps at Ace, Homer Despot, (b)Lowes or a decent garden store will be able to match you to your tire needs, wants and wallet.

      Plus, you are giving us a chance to amuse ourselves at your expense.

      And when hasn't the simplest story or observation here not morphed into a pan-subject excursion on the meaning of life, food, beverages and weapons? Wait.. No-one's yet mentioned what adult beverage was consumed after securing new wheelbarrow like some mighty wheelbarrow hunter of ancient times, traipsing into the wilds of a hardware store and bagging, tagging and bringing home his prey. Hmmm. Seems to be some subject-creep here...

      Delete
    6. Subject creep? But of course!

      Delete
  9. An air compressor is one of those "Must Haves" when you live outside city limits and mesquite (meaning mesquite thorns) grows everywhere. I use mine weekly if not more often. But, in your case, it might fall into the category of "if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, with an air compressor you can now buy a nail gun...

      Delete
    2. juvat - Blogger ate my earlier superb (read lame) comment. Yes, in your neck of the woods an air compressor would be necessary. My earlier statement of "once in a blue moon" probably overstates the frequency of need for an air compressor in my neck of the woods.

      Delete
    3. Beans - Now there's a practical use. What's the range on a nail gun?

      Asking for a friend...

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    4. Depending on make and model of gun, and make and model of nail, and whether one has removed certain 'safety' features or found one's way around them (like drilling a 1" hole in a board to allow nail to fly through on models that have to have safety thingy pressed down to fire) about 30' to 90'. Effective range? I have no idea. Maybe 0-15/20 feet? Are you just trying to pop balloons or pop loons? The target matters.

      Not that I've ever thought about it, or done it (no, actually have never shot a nail-gun. Seen roofers and other nailers shooting at things, but never got to shoot one yet. Dangit.)

      Delete
    5. I knew you would put some thought into your answer. In fact, I was counting on it.

      (I'm gonna need a bigger compressor, on wheels and self-propelled, perhaps some armor. Hhmm, a nail gun tank...)

      Delete
    6. I don’t know much about today’s nail guns, but . . . back when I was assisting my former brother in law build my ex-wife’s house in the late ‘70s, we were able to, with the right elevation, fire off framing nails a pretty good distance (80 - 90 feet) and agitate blue jays and crows.

      Delete
    7. OAFS, I could routinely shoot them over the engineering lab while I was "framing" in the technology lab. A 16 penny nail, 100 PSIg, lobbed at a 45 degree angle, would clear a 25foot building about thirty feet away.... They would stick in drywall down a 20 foot hallway..... yeah, I got scolded for my lab experiments..... You had to hold the safety with one hand whilst aiming and firing.... made concentration exacting....

      Don't ask about the staple that got stuck in my eyebrow.... Suffice it to say, that frontal assault against and entrenched enemy firing a fully automatic weapon will not end well. Even if you are a good broken field runner..... Thanks be to God for safety glasses.....

      Delete
    8. STxAR - Now there's a story worth telling. Provided the statute of limitations has expired. :)

      Delete
    9. Beans would be the one to figure out a way around the safety features (an ingenious way, mind you, but....)now wouldn't he?

      Delete
    10. Leave it to a guy from Florida to figure out how to defeat the safety stuff.

      ;)

      Delete
    11. This comment has been removed by the author.

      Delete
    12. Hey, to be safe you have to know how to be unsafe. I'm kinda the Fort Detrick of safety devices.

      And the hole thingy? Well... it just makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, safety device to not fire unless front plunger is plunged, so... make wooden or metal thingy with hole for barrel to plunge the plunger so one can fire for distance. Plus, I saw professionals doing it from a roof shooting at glass jars lined up on the rail of a dumpster. Thus, my estimates for nail-gunning from a distance combined with theoretically firing nails and bolts using a shop compressor and an air-blow-nozzle thingy to shoot rats.

      Delete
    13. I find it hard to see the word "professionals" used in a sentence which includes "from a roof shooting at glass jars lined up on the rail of a dumpster."

      Professionals at what? (I know, I know, roof shooting glass jar dumpster professionals. Or something.)

      Delete
    14. Well, by inference, men on roof with nail guns being called 'professional' would most likely infer that they were 'roofers' and contractor roofers at that and thus 'professionals.'

      But that would require knowing the context of the inference to infer the context.

      My bwain hurts...

      Delete
    15. "Men on roof with nail guns," WBAGNFARB. (Hat tip to Dave Barry.)

      Delete
  10. Being as I come from a "This would be way cooler on fire" childhood, Enclosed is the field-expedient method of reinflating a tubless tire.

    1) make sure tire lips are inside rim
    2) spray starting fluid inside tire, proportional to tire size.
    3) Wait 5 seconds
    4) Light ether fumes on fire. This causes the tire to expand rapidly, reseating and partially to wholly reinflating it.
    5) Put out any clothing currently on fire.
    6) Take beer back from whoever was holding it.
    7) Remount tire.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haven't I seen you on YouTube, Paul?

      ;)

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    2. I have been doing that since the 70's.

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    3. And you still have all of your fingers?

      Asking for a friend...

      Delete
    4. Sound advise (Paul's) from someone who lives and works on a floating fuel tank.

      But...

      It's what the Big Dogs at mines do to seat those massive tires on the massive rims for those massive dump-trucks and other massive earth movers.

      Just don't stand too close...

      Delete
    5. Yes, Paul has survived a number of years in the nautical fueling business hasn't he?

      Delete
    6. Paul (PLQ,) I now see where I should have labeled the above comment not as "Sound advice (Paul's)" but as "Sound advice (Paul, Dammit!)..."

      Terribly sorry, old chap, no attempt to attempt to replace you (Paul (PLQ) with another (Paul (Paul, Dammit!.)

      Delete
  11. I had a wheelbarrow once, whose tire couldn't seem to hold air.
    It sat for months at a time, being ornamentaly useless.
    Finally, I went to Harbor Freight and found a replacement wheel and tire.
    Once the new wheel and tire were on the wheelbarrow the tire went flat and wouldn't hold air, either.
    I believe that useless ornament is still sitting in the back yard in Anderson.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Perhaps it was equipped with a self-deflating mechanism?

      You could use it as a planter...

      Delete
  12. My neighbor across the street has a two wheeled wheelbarrow. It is very nice in the it won't tip over before you are ready to dump the load, as a one wheeled can.

    I was thinking about making a snarky comment about the length of your post before I saw how many comments it had generated. Any post that can garner comments in as great or greater length as the post itself deserves only praise, not derision.

    Thanks for the post.
    Paul L. Quandt

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. As an acquaintance from the Navy once said, when talking about the size of things (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more, squire) that it's not the size of the ship but whether you can disembark all the troops quickly once you get to port.

      Um... what was my point again?

      Delete
    2. Paul, not dammit - A guy I work with has a two-wheeler, he likes it a great deal. Stable and all that.

      Delete
    3. Beans - Did your acquaintance from the Navy like sports?

      Delete
    4. Well, he was a knight (yes, we often pronounce it like in MPatHG) in the SCA (pronounced Essss-Sea-Aye where the Aye is pronounced like the Fonz would pronounce it, not pronounced like Ska (ssskaww) which is some weird music type...) So, well, he liked hitting people. Does that count as a sport?

      Delete
    5. Good to know.

      (Do you have to put your thumbs up when saying "Aye" like the Fonz?)

      Delete
  13. Wow. Most comments evah*.

    Also, one of John in Philly's comments may be the longest comment evah, though Beans has had some epic comments, he's on the staff so he can't win the prize of "longest comment evah." I also wish to dissuade him from trying as a comment of such length should probably be a post its own self. (Hint, hint.)





    * New England for "ever."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. NOT YET AMIGO!

      Buy a garden cart. They don't suffer flat wheels lightly.
      Buy a gadget on Amazon, about fifteen bucks which one plugs into the cigarette lighter adaptor in your veee-hickle and it is your very own little air compressor. Works great. Ask me how I know.

      Delete
    2. Truth be told I have been contemplating the purchase of just that sort of air compressor for both of the family vehicles. Road construction season approaches.

      I was wondering when you were going to show up, Cap'n. ;)

      Delete
    3. There was an expression we both know well but hardly ever use, ' the fire in which all men burn.' Himself probably used it at least once every fortnight but me, not so much; maybe once or twice, plus, I kind of miss EIP who could whip the two of us at grammar and punctuation with both beers tied behind his back.
      Remember, ease into the weekends. You don't want to find yourself mid-afternoon on Saturday with not another thing left on the honeydo list. You can't get away with 'stealing' wheelbarrows forever by walking them home....:)

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    4. I'm pretty sure I've never used that phrase, odd that.

      Oh yes, Buck could turn a phrase and place commas in all the right spots, miss him I do.

      Weekends, much to do, so little time to do it. Perhaps I'll take my wheelbarrow for a walk. ;)

      Delete

Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)