ShopTalk Sunday: How “Farm Work” Changes as We Age

Doggonit, if this isn’t an interesting column this week. Because it was one of those weeks when “the magic happens” between the ears.  Weeks we learn something deep – and meaningful – about how Life works.

Start with Two Broken Tractors

Yeah, the Fourth of July weekend didn’t turn out quite right.  Plan was that everything would go according to Hoyle and I would have had a few “unallocated hours” in which to build the new ham radio that’s been awaiting assembly for more than a month.

Nope. Didn’t happen.

Instead, while I was mowing the rifle range – which is really part of the fire break system here now that the heat is on and fire risk is rising – and I heard this God-awful “Clunk!”  At which time the 3-point brush hog instantly stopped turning, and that was the end of a good mowing session.

The obvious course of action was to park the tractor in the work-on-it position.  That’s where I back whatever the ornery implement is under a 2 by 12 beam where I can get a chain hoist around it, lift to access the problem area – put jack stands in for safety – and then get to work on things.

It was warm so I parked in position – flipped the seat forward so animals (and dirt) wouldn’t get on it, and left it for dead until Monday. “I’ll think of something by then…” I told myself.

That was Saturday.  So after last Sunday’s ShopTalk I went out to mow the yard.  Early – cold – just 76°F.  Which went to 83 by the time two acres’ worth was shorn.  Toward the end of the haircut, I noticed one side of the mower deck was digging in and leaving seriously uneven grass.

“Well, hell, if that don’t beat all…two days of projects and two broken tractors.”  Then it was already warm – so I pressure-washed the riding mower – and put it back.  I did the only thing a rational man could do.  “I’ll just park this problem until Monday, too…”

Sleeping on Problems Pays Off – BIG

“Experience” is having made the same mistake many times before.  And the Big Clunk on  the Kubota was quickly sorted out. I was playing back all past tractoring disasters as I dozed off Sunday night – certain I would solve things by Monday morning.  It worked. I have a huge database of error sounds in my head.

When I run over one of my ham radio antenna experiments – like a hundred feet of 300-ohm twinlead – you don’t get a pronounced jarring “Clunk!”  More like a “Grrr…rrr….rrrr…stop!” Part of the antenna spools up underneath, sure. But, that’s the cost of field science.  Besides, there’s enough friction that it slows almost gently into the non-op condition.

When running over other (man-made) field obstacles – such as a rolled-up hunk of field wire that someone never got around to moving off the shooting fairway – there’s more of a metallic grinding noise at the end of work progress. This one was different.  Hmm…

This one was really a hard – STOP – clunk.  The kind that only a rock can make.

When I woke up Monday morning, I had the answer and it was almost too damn simple.

PTOs Turn Clockwise (from the rear)

Coffee in hand, I sneaked up on the brush hog and inspected the U-joint at the implement end.  Here’s how it looked:

It didn’t take but a second to see the “2-minute miracle answer!”

I would just take a long breaker bar – 8 feet of 3/4″ galvanized pipe (6 feet would have worked fine).  I slipped it through and gave a mighty tug. Counterclockwise viewed from the rear.

Suddenly – all at once – the stuck blade of the brush hog was clear – leaving Mr. Ure – ass over teakettle – laying in the pea gravel holding a runaway breaker bar.

When the stars went out, I got up, shook off the pain, and gently twisted the shaft by hand. Only to mutter “Well, I’ll be damned!” It was free!

Implement lifted up, I moved the tractor forward, and there it was! The very rock – which looked more like a piece of concrete – was jeering back at me.  (I kicked it a few times and peed on it to explain my displeasure but I’m not sure if that registered, or not.)

The scar lines from the brush hog blade will no doubt be a curiosity for future archeologists – if ants have such things when our turn at the helm of Earth is over.

My error: I overpowered the breaker bar, expecting it would be harder to do than it was. Next time, I’ll start with a lot less “Armstrong” and sneak up on success. I did learn a good deal about breaker bar aikido, though.

Now I Was On a Roll!

Sunday afternoon, I had come back out to see what the riding mower issue was. Was the blade deck coming loose or something else causing the left side scalping?

Found it!  Slow leak in the left rear tire.  One minute with the battery-powered inflator and it was at 15 PSI and ready to rock – again.

Then I decided to check the opposite rear tire.  That’s when I discovered that when Lowe’s had assembled this tractor, they had put the rear wheel on “inside-out.”  The only clue – and it took three years to come to light – was that the valve stem was under the chassis.

Oops!

No problem now, however.  After backing the rider out, I ran the bucket of the grownup tractor in at a 45-degree angle like so…

This allowed the bucket fork to get some purchase on the lifting and towing bracket. A light tap on the bucket lever and the whole ass-end was airborne.  Zero sweat involved.

Somewhere in here I decided I was blessed in many ways.  Because one of the lug nuts on that right side had not only come clean off – gone AWOL – but the remaining three were also loose.

The good news?

The left side – the one with the slow leak – had a missing lug nut adventure two years ago and here’s the farmerly tip for you:  When you have more lug nuts than you need, don’t put them up in that shop/barn/hardware store clone you’re building.  Put them on the open lug bolt ends and snug them just a bit.  This way they act like lock bolts and you don’t have to chase all over tarnation looking for lug nuts.  (I got more, anyway.  Belt and suspenders is the ticket out here.)

That semi-eidetic memory is a useful thing now and again. Leaving spares on the left, the fresh batch went on the right.

There you have it – two marvelous outcomes due to “sleeping on it” and the “where to put your nuts” trick.  No, not that one…sheesh.  Come on, Bubba…

The Almost Accident Case

Last Sunday, after the rider crapped out, I moved on to greenhouse work.  After measuring the pH of the water in the two 55 gallon rain barrels, I decided to add 100 ml of dilute phosphoric acid – the main ingredient in a hydroponic product called “pH Down” by General Hydroponic.  Great stuff.

But here’s where Mr. Ure had this week’s “close call with disaster.”

I had left the pH Down jug in the greenhouse (in the sun!) and UV had – over the prior six months – turned the plastic brittle as hell – ready to break at a touch. Of course, I didn’t know that so…

I picked it up, and was taking the cap off to pour when the whole top of the jug sheared off in my hand, splashing acid all over me.

Because I was working with acid, I already had a 5/8th inch water hose charged and running. Having a son in heavy duty construction safety, I’ve gotten PPE paranoid.   So literally – within 10 seconds there wasn’t a stitch of clothing on me, and every inch of me was being flooded with cold water and the acid was long gone, soaking into the pea gravel.

Incident Review

This is one of those  times when “good outcomes” and “sometimes you just get lucky” all come together.  Here’s what I did right:

• Eye protection on. Non-negotiable.
• Ready to strip off clothing in seconds.
• Cold water running.
• After three minutes initial flooding, I dribbled into the house for a much longer cold shower… that must have been a half hour’s worth. During which…

• Elaine brought baking soda, with me still in the cold shower – which I made into a paste and applied all over—rinsed off after 10-20 seconds. (Not medical advice, obviously—I’m just telling you what worked for me after the initial flooding. For anything serious, get professional help fast!)

Legal says I should add that “Current first-aid guidance is prolonged water flushing—not trying to neutralize the chemical on your skin.”   I argued that my mentioning it was low risk: This isn’t prescribing treatment for serious burns or exotic chemicals. It’s “I flooded with water then used this common kitchen item.”  (But I shut up and listen when people who charge money to talk are around.)  They want you to remember water, water, water on any skin exposure. We’re OK with that.

I eventually got out of the shower when I looked like a shriveled-up pickle. (May have had something to do with being 77, but we can’t be sure.)

Maybe it’s because (being from a firefighter family) I was trained to over prepare for everything.  I never work with any chemicals without eye protection and an already running hose and a forward disaster plan just in case.

Part of my upbringing included a very detailed introduction to acids and alkaline compounds in the workplace.  For example, when laying brick or block (Portland cement is quite alkaline) we would use a couple of tablespoons of vinegar rubbed on our hands for 10-15 seconds, or so and then rinsing well. Again, NOT medical advice, but doctors don’t make house calls anymore, so there you go.

There’s the real lesson of Murphy, right there: If something can go wrong, it eventually will.  And I’m here – with no burn or injury to tell you for a fact that when you are working with real seriously dangerous farm shit (chemicals, machinery, etc) you ARE going to have an accident.

What sorts out the slickers is whether the farmer has planned the work, planned the errors, and worked the plan. (I don’t think the feral cats have ever seen a self-irrigating fat human before, but we’ll get them into counseling and they should be fine.)

On that, off to get into still more trouble – which is what makes life such a fine adventure ride – You need to do enough things right enough to ride to the end.

Well, except falling with a big breaker bar and watching your mind work the high-speed calculations.  “If I let go, is this breaker bar going to bean me on the head?”

That was the week’s Martial Arts “time dilation moment” like in a movie fight scene, that one!

Sideband Dream III

To keep you up to speed: In my June 30th column, I wrote about a precognitive-feeling dream about buying a used Drake TR-5 transceiver that would soon appear on the market.  Sure enough, the matching radio showed up – but the price was too high.

The rest of the story is I countered, the seller came down a bit, but it was still higher than the “dream price” so I made that offer and explained how the dream set the cap, not me. But, I also assured the seller I was not attached to the outcome – so whatever the call was on his end (take it or leave it) it’s not like I don’t have two dozen other (more actually) HF ham rigs to pick from.  Besides, while the TR-5 was pushy enough to make it into a dream, it’s not like a “magic radio” like the Hermes Lite (which we will get into next weekend).  It’s a good radio, but for raw CW (Morse) chops the GSB-100, Drake 2-series (2B or 2C, switchable) and a Johnson Thunderbolt are at least as enjoyable.

The real ponder has been “Was there some point to this dream of “owning something”?  I mean, like: “Did the Universe want the seller to learn something about negotiation, or me to learn something about my being well past reasonable ownership levels in HF gear?”  Still pondering that.

Meanwhile, the unit did sell, though I have no idea as to price. I have no idea what the Universe was getting at.

Meanwhile, a long-time reader & friend sent me an amazing package of food-related items including some very specialized Japanese seasoning.  Here’s where a “Ure quirk” surfaces.  I try never to enjoy a gift until I have figured out some equal kindness in return.

So, before I whip out my Ginzu knifery and wander into experimental Wagyu-ing, I’m working through which ham radio to send him in return. I don’t need to idolize anything related to food (got a memo from my belt just last week on this).  So his punishment may be “radio disease!”

The choices are a classic HF (small Icom – like a 721) or a classic “get your feet wet” receiver like the Radio Shack DX-160… hmm.  Things to think about as I “plow through” today’s pre-breakfast entertainment sequence. Yee-haw ‘bota.

Write when you take PPE seriously,  G2 doesn’t have time to read my columns, so the acid story is between us, right?

Write when you’re neutral.

George@Ure.net