Awareness & Productivity

Though I'm now officially unemployed, every day seems unavoidably fully of things that are getting done.  Yesterday, it was moving the crystalized honey from the little plastic bear to a jar so it could be heated/de-crystalized. See:

(the neck was too small for a useful scooping device, so, yeah, the head had to go.)

Also on the menu was replacing the rear braka cylinder.  It went bad last year, and was dealt with among other things.  This time, rather than rebuilding the old one because of a mis-match of threads between the brakeline and the cylinder, the replacement that came happened to fit.  Here's the little angry beast:

Even though I did this with pop last year, I got a pretty neat little refresher from John Twist via his youtube posts from his shop.  I really wish a dope Vespa shop was doing similar clips to help me with that project--which is on hold until I'm hired somewhere.  Maybe.  I don't know.  I had an itch today to take that whole thing apart today to put in a new quadrant.  Plus, having it not-done is making me leave tools in the garage that should be in the back of my car.  

Lovely distractions.  

What do you do when summer starts?  

Edit

(photo taken in around '04)

Upon a little reflection, I know I'm not getting rid of my car. In fact, the idea of parting with my MG kinda up sets me. I'm way too attached to the thing. I know this.

But, here's the thing. A new car means a car that's new to me, which means used and, most likely, buying a whole new set of problems and projects. That's all, really.

You'll also notice that yesterday I wrote "another car." Not "an other." So, here's the plan:
- Get a job. Someplace warm.
- Get a garage with an apartment on top. I would buy this house.
- Have the MG and cb650 in the garage.
- Drive them.
- Save some scratch.
- Get a hybrid. Park it outside the garage.

See? The MG doesn't have to go anywhere. I'm going to drive that car until the day it dies and I can't bring it back.

Got the tank back from the shop. It's hot. Photos to come.

Running Again

The new solution:


I plugged that little guy in, and was testing it with a bottle of gasoline and electrical jumpers to make sure it was working first, and it ticktickticked, but nothing was coming out the other end. I scratched my head, felt a bit of an I-can't-figure-this-out panic coming on. In that panic, I got suspicious of my little set up. The electrical had to be working because there was the ticking. The bottle was, in fact, holding the fuel. I took the 5 inches of hose I was using as my jump, and check it out:


Yeah. I got 4 feet of hose, and cut a length that just happened to have a blockage. Ain't that something?!

Once I took a knife to that punk, it all worked out:


Running.
Speaking of it, I'll be getting my gas tank for the bike back today. Can't really fill it up because some sealant inside is going to be curing until around 3pm. Plus, I don't have a working petcock for it yet. Yes, that's what the valve is called. I know it's a funny word.

More running? I have a new reading list. These are the places my head will be for the next few weeks:


The year ends any day now. I like 8s better than 7s, I think.

-I'm thinking 2008 might be the year to get another car.
-I've promised myself an iphone when I get a job for the fall--and when they come out with the next version, because apple's funny like that.
-Debating whether or not I like the kindle from amazon. I don't think I like that it's called "kindle" as in to set on fire. Like we're setting the paper books on fire. But maybe amazon's going for the "arouse or inspire" metaphor of fire. Or maybe they're suggesting reading a book on the kindle has something to do with the act of a rabbit giving birth. I don't know. Any thoughts?

Not One Thing, but the Other

The MG's been getting pretty lousy milage lately. I'm not really sure why, so I figured this was a good time to check it out. The first idea was to make sure the fload in the weber carb was closing the flow properly, but there was a snag.

The weber I installed last year has an electronic choke, which gets in the way of removing the top plate on the carb to get to the float bowl. Thought I could get around it by removing the flap (below) and then sliding out that pin, but those screws you see there are brass. Brass is soft and takes a beating from too much messin' with.


Not having a rebuild kit on hand, and not wanting to really kill this whole thing, I moved on the fuel pump, which has had a bit of a temper in the last 6 months anyway. Well...


I tried installing my back up (that cylindrical thing), but it didn't work.


I didn't discover that it didn't work until I had it all rigged up behind the tired and everything. See that clamp thing? Not even close to standard.


Mid-day, I quit for a while, and made a pastrami sandwich with swiss and spicy mustard:


You might notice there's a lot of floor space behind the sandwhich. That's because I sold my rocking chair, giving myself room to do yoga without having to move anything. This morning, I got up, and I did me some yoga. Yup.

After the sandwich, of course, I tried installing another pump. That one didn't work either. I'll be heading back to the store today to exchange it, then coming home to bench-test it before I install it. Pop says that if the pump is working, I should clean the plugs, and there's a chance the mechanism that goes into the tank is busted. This is exactly what I need, right?

So, I've got a car and a motorcycle, both with fuel delivery problems at the moment. I want the car running by the time I leave for SD. There are bright sides to all of this: a)keeps me from getting lazy with the car stuff; and b) After I brake my ass working under a car all day, a shower and dinner are better than any other I can imagine. I cooked chicken last night. I didn't take a photo--there was no vegetable, and I wasn't proud of that.

We'll see if this project ends today. If not, it'll have to wait until next year.

Taking Saturday and Running

As it happens, a hacksaw will do little more than move the grease around on a U-joint. Pretty discouraging.  Further, the keys for the car were left in a purse in an apartment in campus.  

Now, I don't like to quit, especially on something mechanical, but if the '75 MGB doesn't do what it's supposed to when I get this thing back in, I've got to back off and put it in the hands of the pros.  As much as I avoid mechanics, it's nice to have one in town I know I can trust when the job just gets to be too much.  Besides, it ain't my car.

But at least the chickens were out at the farm yesterday. Ain't they cute?

Ba-gock.

I spend a lot of time working on cars that aren't mine.  I think I'm gonna knock that off for a while.  

If I could, I'd be at this event:

Did you remember to set your clocks back?

Transmission Mounts

Behold, the old ones (goopy things) and the new ones (sharp angles):



These are bolted to the transmission to t cushion the vibrations of the engine. When they get all mushy and squishy, my sense is that the transmission drops a bit, making it easier for the ND-30 oil to leak out the back. It's way easier to replace these things when there's not an overdrive transmission.



Lara thought I looked funny under the car, so she took the last photo before the batteries died in the camera.



It's getting cold on the gravel in the machine shed. I hope this will be done next Saturday. Meanwhile, I'm getting emails from a guy who googled "mg mechanic illinois." I hope I helped him. Assuming the rear main seal is good, the last thing we need to do it change the U-Joints on the propeller shaft. I'm having a hard time with it. Might just cut it in half with a hacksaw. I will totally take photos of that if I resort to it.

In other news, found my thought-lost copy of Janice Harrington's book in the pocket of a jacke that's been hanging the whole time in the closet. Now I'll finish it.

Roy Kesey is reading here on Nov. 5th. Come out for it. If you don't, I'll see you at Winter Wheat later in the week.

It's All Coming Together

Ok. That brass plate of last weeks' fame, I have come to believe, is actually the bearing. If it's not, it's some kind of crazy part that isn't in the manual or parts catalog. that means that the rear main seal that should be there to replace was actually gone, or--more likely, I think--was not installed the last time some jerk was messing with this baby.

We'll, it's all together now:


I gave it a little of the ol' squeeze while Lara held the other socket on the front bolt:

(Doesn't she look all happy, her personal mechanic near by?)

Figured i was done. Thought it would be a quick job to change a Universal-joint or two. Of course not. I pounded away at this think like I was on the chain gang. Lara wanted to head back to town, and I knew the transmission mounts would be waiting at my place in the mail, which means we're going back next week anyway. After the firm beating, I soaked the thing in WD-40. Gonna let it sit to think about what it's done for a while.


Just so you know, I do all this car work in exchange for sandwiches and/or scotch.
Good news will soon follow. Have you been aware of Breast Cancer this month? If not enough, go chill with the Guth.

If Not One Thing, Another

The giant 1 5/16" bolt of last week has been removed, prompting the flow of the ND-30 from the back of the transmission--Kinda looks like honey.


Of course, now there's this giant seal that doesn't wanna come out. I tried a bent screw driver, pliers in various positions, all that stuff. Checked the ol' manual which told me to "use an extractor"--yes, friends, there's a tool that is used ONLY to extract the rear main seal. It's a whole $3--" or prissy it out." "Prissy," like "fussily or excessively respectable" or "overadorned with details such as ruffles and bows."


Alas. I could not "prissy" the seal from the housing. Maybe if I'd brought Christine's knitting needles or a tea set with some biscuits.... Oh well. Will tackle it properly next week, complete with the new transmission mounts.

Meanwhile, yet another use for the disassembled L.C. Smith typewriter from a few weeks ago:


Yes. Crock-pot handle. See, I got it from Davenport without one, and haven't picked up a proper replacement yet. But it looks neat, no? That's a corned beef and some kraut simmering away. Gonna have it for dinner with a fresh loaf of Rye of the bakery down the street. I needed some meat. I was gonna write a poem starring the wonderful foods covered by the word "meat," but Knox beat me to it with her poem "59 Tenets about Meat," which you can read by picking up her book from Bloof, or get over to Forklife, Ohio to check out the original publication.

{and, of course you should order a copy AND go read it in the journal so that you're reading a great book, supporting a kick-ass new press, while also checking out a pretty cool publication; further, the slightly different experiences in reading with the two different margin settings, and small yet interesting differences.}

So, my new poems about meat will have to wait. Maybe the poems I already have about meat will show up somewhere for you to see. But, honestly, when is a poem about meat really about meat?

Missed it by 1 and 5/16 inches

I was really hoping to get Lara's 1975 MGB up and running today. So much work. Here's how it happened:
Once we got the driveshaft out, we've got this bolt:

that's a 1 and 5/16", and no exactly standard in the craftsman kit that's to always be kept in the car. So what do we do? Send Lara to the store to go get one. Only took two adapters to hold it to the 3/8 ratchet:


Funny part is, once you get it on there, slap the transmission in gear, and try to loosen it up, a bolt (exactly the same size) on the front of the engine starts spinning. Can't really stop it, unless of course you have another giant socket. Because the transmission mounts are shot, we'll wait for those to come in, and get back to the rear main seal of the transmission in a week.

Meanwhile, the float bowl at the end of the fuel sending until was fucked:

All full of gas. Kinda useless. So, we replaced that whole thing:


This car also had a Delco-Remy alternator installed at some point:


Also had this lovely little regulator that one needs when putting parts in the car that don't be long there:


Got that out, put the new one in. Took the photo while I had it lashed up to get to the bolts on the bottom:


On the way back to civilization, we tried to race a train to the crossing, but it beat us:

(I wasn't driving...not saying; just saying....)

Before all that action, got a few fresh submissions out. Came hope to a few things from applications. Glad to know my stuff gets there. Hope someone hires me.

10 Years of Driving the 1972 MGB

I post pictures of different parts of my car all the time, but it was 10 years ago today my driver's license became valid.
Here we are at the East Meadow High School parking lot in 1997:


And we stopped together in Arizona on our way to San Diego in 2003:


If you find a cupcake lying around, pretend it's for the anniversary of my long standing relationship with driving my MG.

Other people born today that make me feel cool: H.P. Lovecraft, Robert Plant, & Issac Hayes.

POEMS! by Pedro Pietri.

Telephone Booth Number 301

when I was very young
I used to have a many
imaginary girlfriends
now that I am an adult
I miss them very much

Telephone Booth Number 898 1/2

if you are
unable to erase it
it means that you
have not written down
anything to erase
& don't have to fear
being quoted just
when you are about
to contradict what
you didn't write down

Telephone Booth number 32439

if you hit a poet
& he doesn't hit you back
leave town immediately
take out life insurance
get a new identity
unite with transvestites
sleep with unlisted numbers.


If anyone knows were there's a book length collection of Pietri's Telephone Booth poems, I'd love to know.

I'm Not in Kansas Anymore

But I was. Left Friday after installing a bracket on the exhaust of Lara's red 1975 MGB, replaced the speakers, hitting the road. She hadn't learned to drive stick yet, so I was at the helm:


As stops for gas (every 175 miles or so because we have to order a fuel sending unit to the gas gauge works properly) I found little things to repair. The top was so tight because of non-use, but we were strong enough to get it snapped down:


Then, of course something had to happen, and we lost power systematically. First not enough fuel at high speeds, then the radio got staticy, the blinkers cut out, you get the idea. I puttered out in a gas station, noticed the fan belt was slacked (and so no power was being generated by the alternator and the battery was wearing down). I pulled the tension as tight as it could go, but we only got another 40 miles between dying again. Someone at some point put a new bracket assembly on the alternator of this car, and that was the culprit.

From 9:15pm to 11:00pm or so, I hunted for a fan belt in rural Columbia, Missouri. Hunted. I had to go "find" a fan belt for a U-Haul truck in northern Florida once about 8 years ago, but that was in the middle of the day, and pre-cell phones. When it's Friday night 120 miles from St. Louis in one direction and 130 miles from Kansas City on Rt. 70, it's some serious shit.

By the grace of the NAMGBR Help Directory & Mickey (of Mickey's Towing and Storage, 110 Route B, Hallsville, MO, 65255. 573-696-3986), we had what we needed. Mickey, in addition to all night towing which we didn't need, also has a small shop out on Route B. If you need towing services out there, I highly recommend him.

But I fixed it. That's what I do:


By 1:30am, I was shot and so decided to teach Lara to drive her car. She got the hang of stick shift pretty quickly. I documented it for you, and then slept for 40 miles:


What should have been 7 hours took 14 with hunting and repairs. Lara will remember it as an Epic Road Trip Adventure; I will regard it as just another long drive in an MGB. I rented this to drive home:


Driving for days and days, occasionally repairing things, takes a toll on the body. Not only am I severely sun-burnt, but my muscles around my left shoulder are so sore that it hurts if I breathe deeply. I'm hoping it gets better in the next day or two.

Meanwhile, it seems I've been tagged to tell you 8 things about myself:

1. I have 4 fairly large tattoos, but I've never colored my hair or had anything pierced.
2. I've lost 3 cork screws, a set of Allen keys and a bike tool to Airport Security.
3. Don't like foreign films; actively and aggressively avoid them--unless they're kung-fu flicks.
4. I couldn't read until I was 8, and didn't actually read for fun until I was 15 or so.
5. Between the ages of 17 and 22 I tried to start smoking cigarettes at least 3 times. I'd buy a pack, run out, and forget for about 3 weeks. Upon remembering, I found it a huge pain in the ass to stop at the store for a pack of cigarettes, and so that's that. I buy a cigar every few months, and really enjoy it.
6. My food shopping list consists of very little more than eggs, apples, cheese, cans of black beans, & either tortillas or bread, and scotch (but a bottle will last me at least a month). I forget to eat dinner at least twice a week. I'd live on pizza and sandwiches if there was a decent deli in this town.
7. I used to know Latin, but have forgotten most of it. I forget a lot of things. I don't hold my memory in high regard, and believe I'm a better person for it.
8. When I am on a long drive, I constantly scan the stations and stop almost only for "Don't Stop Believing," "Time after Time," "Copacabana," or Jackson Browne's "Stay."

Happy 4th Weekend. I might cook a steak.

On The Mend

Feeling a little better today. One of my many dear friends brought me provisions today, including Ibuprofin, which I didn't think I needed on account of the large bottle of serious pain killers that lingers after the whole wisdom-teeth event a few months ago. I was scolded for not having practical medicines in my house, but also made a tasty "get well" soup that I was assured came from a grandmother. Tasty stuff.

I might feel a little better if I wasn't currently promoting a high body temperature, but I like to take a proactive role in the endeavors of my immune system. My sense is that I'll be tip-top by tomorrow morning, when I'll take out the '72 B with it's new rear breaks, newly secured exhaust, and tuned up valves. The old breaks had busted cylinders, so fluid was slowly leaking, so the pedal got all spongy, etc. Looked like this:


Sitting at home and resting for the past couple of days has me thinking: my mail service is way too slow...I'm waiting for two books and a movie (speaking of movies: Idiocracy - Awesome idea, horrible execution); why can't I pay HBO so I can watch Entourage straight from their website? Anyone know a good place on the internet I can just watch the show and not pay anyone?

Dad's on his way back to NY. Wish him a safe drive.

It's Dad Week

My pops safely arrived yesterday to chill here for the week. Bright and early this morning, he broke out the tools and we started to work on Lara's 1975 MGB. (Just so you know, this is gonna be one of those really car-intensive posts. Seriously, people google these problems, find this blog, and it helps them.) If you want good poetry/art stuff, go here, here or even here.
Dad's on the job:

A few small problems: someone decided to vent the Carb by feeding it back into the front cover on the block, so now all the oil is mixed with gas. Easily fixed. Someone also once removed the exhaust manifold and put on tube-headers (to make it louder probably, because it is commonly believed that "loud" means "fast." These are not synonyms), and in the process of welding the pipes they warped the parts that bolt to the head, and so destroyed the seal. Solution: remove broken stuff:

Boom shakalaka.
Replacement exhaust system is on its way. MEANWHILE!
My car has had problems with the valves for about 8 years. Not usually too much of a problem, only I couldn't really adjust them so they were a little ticky and every 3.64 years, one of the bolts would get off the few threads that were there and knock around for a second. "But why were there only a few threads per valve rocker arm?", you ask.
"Maybe the head wasn't ground down enough," I've guessed.
(Click for Visual Aid)
"No. I'm pretty sure it's the combinations of push-rods and lifters, and so the rods are too low, and so the valve (or tappet) adjusting screws are just too low, and so the nut doesn't have enough threads to hold on tight," has been the common idea held by Dad and others.
Here's the thing (and I would be so bored with this rant if my back didn't hurt so much from all the work): Turns out, the valve adjusting screws that have been in my car for 8 years are about 4 threads too short. See?:


The ones that have been supposed to be there are a little (but plenty for the job) longer, and don't have that strange break in the middle. I save all these little parts. If you'd like one, I'll mail it to you.

So, that's where we're at. Alas, my engine sounds way better today that it has for a while. We'll drive it tomorrow with gusto.

What this is all really about is the fact that we work with precision parts all the time. I firmly believe that this is the same in language as it is in automobiles. Tomorrow: breaks on an MGB, the head light relay on a Rambler, hopefully a new book from Amazon, and what's happening behind the dashboard that can save your life....

Coming Soon...& Cannibals

That's Lara's car. I'll be working on that with my pop when he arrives in town next week. Lot's to do. But here's the thing: the interior of her MG looks better than mine, and the more I work on it, the more I'm looking at my car with a long-avoid critical eye. So I make plans. I have a few ideas. I spend a half hour in the parking lot of a giant megastore painting the floors with black Rustolium. I think Fiber glass is next. Or I buy a spot-welder. I think I can make poems with a spot-welder, and so might justify that investment.

Happy Flag Day.

I was gonna post a poem, but while driving today, I heard (and so sang along with) Fine Young Cannibals. Here's the video (watch the guitar go on fire!):


Here are the lyrics, so you too can sing along:
I cant stop
The way I feel
Things you do
Don't seem real
Tell you what I got in mind
cause were runnin' out of time
Wont you ever set me free?
This waitin' rounds killin' me

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I cant help myself

I cant get
Any rest
People say
I'm obsessed
Everything that's serious lasts
But to me there's no surprise
What I have, I knew was true
Things go wrong, they always do

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can't help myself

I won't make it,
On my own
No on likes,
To be alone

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can't help myself

Uh huh huh

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can't help myself

Uh huh huh

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I cant help myself

Cincinnati is a Good Cook

Spent the weekend in Cincinnati with my oldest friend, Dr. Ken:

(known him since I was 4 or so. he's got a PhD from Duke for Neuroelectrophysiology or something like that)

Ate wonderful steaks (thank 9L's Amy and see her story in Chicago Noir, where you'll also find work by Andrew Ervin. Behold, Dinner!

(that's sauteed red onion and portabello and gorgonzolla from Finley Market at Over-The-Rhine. And Ken's wife's Nana gave me a recipe for Banana Pudding that destroyed me. If you ask nicely, I'll make some and share it with you.

Yes. I'm gloating about how much I love eating bbqed meat with dear friends with wine and all. But on the 3.5 hour drive back, I thought of more stuff to add to a poem I'm working on. And the car didnt' break down--so I returned the back-up fuel pump I bought on Friday and will use that $55 to renew my membership to the Academy. It all comes back to poetry, ya see?

Check back up on MaxXiantu to hear the 4th installment of the Daily Remix. & Natalie Tjandra is gonna be an Aunt--check her art, and applaud her excitement for family, if you get a chance. Onward toward pudding.

Why I Like The Midwest

The driving with the top down is just too smooth.
Spend the day about 20 miles out of town to celebrate the release of Arley McNeney's first novel, Post. Plus, Madonick has a thing for pressure cooking ribs, dropping them on the grill for a few minutes. Too tasty.
It's driving season.
Safety Fast.

Who Needs A Ride?

Old Carb:


New Carb:




We now return to our reading/writing routine...