I moved all of those fuel pump posts to Fuel Delivery "Original Mechanical Fuel Pumps". Facinatin stuff in its own right . . .
This weekend has been I.n.v.e.n.t.o.r.y . . . a most annoying and tedious process broken up by Pensacola's annual jazz festival three doors down at the local park. Can't beat that, got to shut off PBS with its earnest reports from the war zones around the world.
Of course, I was pulled into detours:
My toolbox, given to me by my uncle Phil in 1980, has been in my life every day since I was 21. It joined my life at the sixth tune-up of the Road Warrior on March 20, 1980 through the last adjustment of the right heater valve dump hose clamp on August 16, 2009 at 8:00PM, four minutes prior to final impact.
It has overseen every engine overhaul I have ever done, it was the locus and center of gravity for my mobile BMW repair business that put me through U.C.L.A. sitting in the trunk of my BMW 2002, then 530i, then 630CSi, and of course, when the toolbox should have been ushered into a well-deserved retirement, I shoved it into the hard-working cross-country Itinerant Air-Cooled Odyssey where it also serves as a park bench overlooking gorgeous scenery all over the country, and it still serves as the Cactus Credenza Work Bench. It suffered a few total dumps out the sliding door when I had too many drawers open, the first time that happened I laughed out loud at the sound, almost like the proverbial piano landing on the sidewalk. It endured the head-on crash with me with barely a bent right handle, then was painted in May of 2011 to match the BobD. It's worst injury occurred just last spring when my back gave out and it landed, fully loaded, on the concrete at a slight angle that buckled the floor and walls. All summer, it attacked the floor mat of the BobD with some sharp little edge of torn metal under there.
Saturday was Toolbox Appreciation Day, with a little saxophone ambience between the hammer blows:
There was a major jam going on at the park when the hapless drill motor gearbox started sounding off like a chicken trying to sing along with the jazz as I wirebrushed the rust and flaking paint:
Passers-by stopped to talk with me while I was industriously trying to re-perpendularize the tool box. One couple came over where I could see the woman was in in Full Distaste mode while the guy wasted her precious day with his endless droning,
" I used to own one of these, wow, this is so nice! I remember when I . . . "
so I thought to pull her into a conversation, asking what she did professionally.
"Then I, when we were drunk off our asses, I drove through Bennington, hey was it Bennington honey?"
She was a teacher, a teacher of eighth graders in Connecticut.
". . . was I supposed to know what the oil light was, I was just a dumb . . . "
We talked about the state of education in the good state of Connecticut.
"so then me and them had to walk about two miles and call my dad."
Turns out she lived in Sandy Hook right down Toddy Hill Road not six miles from me.
"and I sold it right there for $500.00, what's this thing here, anyways, we beat that thing . . . "
She got a kick out of rattling off the area roads we both knew, then I threw them both outta there with the old stand-by "this sparking old drill might explode the flammable paint fumes and all."
I got to Someday Task # 34,922,433 this weekend, yes, I now have mats in each toolbox drawer. Been telling myself to get mats to quiet down the rattles since 1982 at least:
Found an interesting no-no in the piles of parts currently surrounding me, a Champion spark plug with too much reach, photographed here with a tool drawer mat backdrop. Note how hot it got sticking out into the combustion chamber, note too, that when the threads are exposed to carbon build-up, they will eat the head threads on their way out . . . :
Painted the tool box exterior around 10 PM:
. . . and I must get back to the inventory, thousands of parts all secreted away in every available crevasse. The yellow legal pad order list, after three days of sorting, is up to two items:
* (4) Type 1 exhaust port gaskets
* assortment of heat shrink tubing
Colin
BobD - 78 Bus . . . 112,730 miles
Chloe - 70 bus . . . 217,593 miles
Naranja - 77 Westy . . . 142,970 miles
Pluck - 1973 Squareback . . . . . . 55,600 miles
Alexus - 91 Lexus LS400 . . . 96,675 miles