Never, Ever Give Up on Fixing Something

I learned a great deal from my Depression-Era parents and grandparents not to throw things away needlessly. That habit can lead to hoarding, but in my case, my Type-A personality tends to sort things and only toss or recycle what can possibly have no future use. I find all sorts of useful items tossed out in city alleys, when working on my rental property. Many I have repaired and put back into service.

Sometimes, however, I still make mistakes. 

A few times this month, I nearly spend money needlessly. It's a lesson to 1) read the instruction manual on appliances and 2) Watch more YouTube videos.

First it was our lightweight Shark Vacuum, a well-rated device we'd paid decent money to buy at a big-box store. It simply stopped running. A quick check on YouTube and a vacuum-repair site showed me a second filter in the body of the machine. In ours, it was completely clogged. In five minutes, the machine ran again, saving us perhaps $800 on a new vacuum we'd been eyeing.  For under $30, we purchased new filters to keep the old vacuum going for (I hope) many years.

Then it was house paint, something that costs forty dollars a gallon or more already, not considering how ill-conceived presidential tariffs may influence prices soon for so many things we buy. I have saved a lot of paint for a decade that was used when renovating our rental property, but a good deal of it came in older metal cans. These rust, unlike newer plastic paint cans. Some paint had to be tossed out, but I carefully opened two cans, salvaging what I could and finding the paint still viable. I put the remainder into plastic jars saved from the kitchen, in case our tenant needs more touch-ups.

I was ready to get a new range for the rental house too; the oven door had gotten liquid between its two glass panes. It proved tedious work but I removed the door, disassembled it, and cleaned the glass. Now it again looks nearly new. The culprit? The door's handle was loose, and the handle seals the top of the door assembly. My last tenant must have burned something in the oven, so steam worked its way into the door's innards.

Finally, I was faced with hard water and stained porcelain. Our commodes looked horrible because of our well water, as did our shower floor. No amount of scrubbing with brushes and Barkeeper's Friend (or more caustic products) would clean things.  I was about to purchase two new commodes and consider re-tiling the shower when I read about pumice blocks. Suffice to say that these did the job, for under $10. The grout in the shower and the basin in the commodes look clean again. The shower will take constant vigilance, and here Barkeeper's friend with pumice and a small brush for nooks and crannies made showering a pleasure again.

 Learn about your house and vehicles. From an HVAC tech I learned how to unclog a drain-tube in our heat pump; last year that saved me an expensive service-call. Then I learned to flush my hot-water heaters annually, too. Do you know how to do that? It can save you hundreds of dollars in deferred replacement costs, since it extends the life of the heater. 

The economy looks shaky to this cheapskate, with lots of wishful thinking and tomfoolery of crypto-currency that screams "Charles Ponzi" at me.  I suspect that hard times lie ahead for spendthrift nation that is so poorly led. What can you do now to save money on repairs and replacements? Might be time to read that owner's manual again, or maybe for the first time. 

 

 

Newfound Tastes? Or Rediscovered Ones?

 I have a strange and newfound appreciation for American cheese.

 And Iceberg lettuce. And Bologna Burgers. And, yes, at least annually, Spam.

 What the hell is wrong with me? I'm supposed, by education, travel, and reading, to be a gourmand. A connoisseur, an aficionado. And so I remain for many things: gin, malt whisky, beer (Light Beer is NOT beer; get a *#%ing Lager, people), hot dogs, pizza, lamb, most seafood, most bread, deserts, pasta.

My mother said that one's sense of taste changes every 7 years. Okay, so at 63, mine changed. A casual Web-search reveals no solid evidence in support of mom's claim, so I'll say "I remain skeptical, mom." Slinging about Occam's Razor, my go-to way to resolve conflicting explanations, tells me that something else likely triggered this interest in comfort foods of my childhood. No, not THAT man. He only makes me want to vomit. His name goes unspoken here.

Let's start with cheese. Lord knows, the right Stilton remains my favorite partner for crackers and a dollop of homemade jam.

Yet, folks, a soft inexpensive cheese brings delight for certain dishes, including grilled-cheese sandwiches, quesadillas, and hot dogs (Hebrew National, thank you) with cheese. Even a bit of heat makes the moisture-laden slices of American melt, including a palate-pleasing sensation that returns me to the solace of "hot lunches" at St. Benedict's School, the only thing I miss about my eight years of bullied Catholic imprisonment at that place.

As on Thursday St. Benedict's "hamburger days," American cheese adds perfection to a cheeseburger at a place called Riverside Lunch in Charlottesville, VA. That remains my world-beating favorite cheeseburger.

Now, for the bologna, or "baloney" if you wish. I cannot eat the childhood Oscar-Mayer stuff; it reminds me of something pink that would come from Play-Doh's Fun-Factory. My baloney has a different first name, thank you. Fried Lebanon, German, or Kosher Bologna, sliced thick, topped with that American cheese, and nestled between sliced of white toast with Iceberg lettuce and mustard?

Oh, yes.

Iceberg lettuce, I'm told, has zero nutritional value and adds no appreciable fiber to our diets.  WebMD notes the value of its Vitamin K, for blood-clotting. Otherwise, zilch. But that crunch!

I love bitter, healthy greens, too. For salads my favorite is neither bitter green nor Iceberg: It's Red-Leaf or Green-Leaf Lettuce, but for BLTs and other sandwiches, I want a head lettuce, preferably Iceberg.

Did my tastes change? No. Maybe my snobbery waned.

In difficult, complicated times, these comfort foods help to sustain us through heartbreaks ahead, all the while saving money.

What is NOT to love?

Spam needs its own post, as does meatloaf, so I will stop there. 

Just find something to eat that brings you comfort and enjoy it in moderation. Your soul will thank you.

Image source: Wikipedia Commons

MTB: A Modern Problem

I want to follow up on my post about why we should buy and maintain really old vehicles.

Folks, we are being had. "MTB" came up in a Facebook discussion about how rotten most modern smart appliances are. It means "Made to break." Thanks to Sam Baird for sharing the meme included above.

We have been told that touch-screen controls are what we want. Granted, that seems to be the case when we are not in motion at highway speeds.

This tech fails miserably when in motion.

In a Jetsons world, I'd be able to say, as I do to Generative AI, in natural language "Car, it's a trifle hot in here. Set the AC to compensate for the human-caused, slow-motion catastrophe  of climate change beyond our little bubble, no matter what the Republicans and other logic-challenged deniers say. Make it cooler, in short. Focus first on my fogged up windshield, made that way by my rage over the recent election."

Yet we don't live in George and Jane Jetson's world. In our janky beat-up world, especially in a newer car, I must navigate a series of menus.

No. I want to reach down, touch a dial I know by muscle memory, and set it without my eyes leaving the road.

Why we came to this impasse I don't understand. Enlighten me in the comments.

It's a comfort to me that Honda reverted to haptic controls on their once-small H-RV, now the same size as my 2006 C-RV. When my first 2004 Honda got totaled, I looked at some of these newer cars, but I cringed at the idea of adjusting vital functions by taking my eyes off the road. Luckily for this curmudgeon, a 2006 Honda came my way.

The company must have heard from other grumps, because they soon reverted to the tried-and-true dials we Honda-lovers have used for decades.

I'm not an utter Luddite. The right backup camera can save lives. The crappy afterthought ones (I've rented two cardboard-box quality Chevy Malibus) appear afterthoughts included to meet some regulation.

 The Japanese, as usual in their cars, strike the right balance.

 

Thank you, Honda. Now would the rest of the auto-makers take notice? Think about it when you next need to reset the vehicle's clock for daylight-savings time.

Why You Should Buy a Really Old Vehicle

Yesterday I walked into a chain auto-parts store (there being no other options) for a cabin-air filter and set of wiper blades for our 2003 Chevy Silverado 1500. It's a truck we bought from my father-in-law's estate, and it has been lightly used, sporting just over 76K miles. We don't plan to sell it; I can do a great deal of mechanical and electronics work on it myself.

A small annoyance of my shopping trip involved the parts books in the shop; they only go back to 2004. A grumpy manager explained to me that "the companies don't care much about vehicles more than 20 years old." Well, they better.

A recent story from S&P Mobility shows that older vehicles are getting more common on our roads and in repair shops, with light vehicles 16 or more years old increasingly common.

Therein lies a problem, as used cars "will be increasingly loaded with sensors for infotainment, communications, and advanced driver assistance systems like adaptive cruise control, lane departure warning and collision avoidance. Adaptive cruise, in particular, has been on a steady upward penetration trend since 2015; it is projected to be in nearly 70 percent of model-year 2023 vehicles, according to S&P Global Mobility estimates." 

Our Chevy, like our 2006 Honda C-RV, lacks a backup camera, touch screen, or lane-departure sensors.

Good. It's harder and harder to find minimalist vehicles. Convenience and Comfort are wicked deities; they make our lives easier 95% of the time, only to leave us stranded and helpless. There must be a better way.

I don't want any of that stuff. On the other hand, I do want passenger, driver, and side-impact airbags, antilock disc brakes, and power steering. I also don't want components that require dealer-specific software. A relative's new Ford Explorer became a brick after the assisted-parking feature broke. The dealer not only quoted an outlandish price but a months-long wait for repairing this (to me) frivolous feature; one should learn to park, not let a car park for you. Luckily, a local shop agreed, if our relative purchased the $1500 Ford-specific software. The repair still proved far cheaper than the dealer's price. The Ford is back on the road.

I'd recommend that for a daily driver, you shop for a low-mile vehicle in the sweet-spot between about 2000 and 2010. These cars and trucks are out there. If you can turn a wrench, excellent. But first go to drivers' forums to ID common issues for DIYers. My wife's Volvo S60, a 2013 model, had to go to the dealer for a battery replacement! I grumbled but have a pal at the service desk who showed me the song-and-dance routine to reset the car's computer. All the dealers know I'm a self-trained gearhead, and Nan is a mechanic's daughter who bought lots of parts for Big Ed. She can tell a scam in the service department when she hears it. She since sold the Volvo, not without some lamentation, for a 2017 Mini S convertible, a very cool car but so complex that it gives me shivers. I can change the oil, filters, and rotate the tires. That's about it. We'll see what happens when the warranty expires. One option? Sell it and buy an older low-mile Volvo C70 convertible with the simpler soft-top, not the retractable hard-top.

I also found, for instance, that in 2004, GM (in their infinite lack of wisdom and abundance of greed) moved the fuel filter from under the Silverado into the tank, so a DIYer must really work hard to replace it. Mine can be changed simply and quickly, with the vehicle parked on the ground, as long as the fittings have not rusted solid. I spray-painted mine after a shop had to change the locked-shut filter for me. Now, at every DIY oil change, I fix any rust on the chassis of each car and touch up the paint there.

You can get parts for the types of vehicles I advocate driving, too. You will need to know parts numbers and specifics if the clerk at the register cannot help, which will be likely given the state of hiring at these stores.  I don't tend to recommend specific franchises, but NAPA seems to have the most knowledgeable helpers. Pity that our local NAPA is staffed by grumps! I go to one in town.

Some innovations have surprised me pleasantly. I replaced a window motor in the big Chevy truck easily and for $75. A few YouTube videos showed me how to remove the door panel and swap out the plug-and-play electronics. Once I was a staunch crank for crank-windows. Now I'm good with power. Likewise, when my dash went out on the truck, a mail-in repair shop that advertises on eBay replaced all the "stepper motors" that control the dashboard lights, speedo, and other gauges, with shipping for that same magic number of $75. The truck could still be driven while I waited for the instrument cluster to be returned. I got it back with better backlights, too, and I installed it in five minutes with simple tools.

I'm looking forward to reading Matthew Crawford's Why We Drive: Toward a Philosophy of the Open Road. I met Matt and had a few interesting chats with him when he lived in Richmond. I love his book Shop Class as Soulcraft. He argues passionately for us being doers with skills, not consumers who press a "pay now" button. Like me, he favors old, if inconvenient and less comfortable, rides. You, your sense of purpose, and your wallet might, too.

There are other kooks like me or Matt out there: we might own a handful of cheap used vehicles; if one breaks, we use another while we fix the other one. It beats a car payment and you can do most work with jacks, stands, or ramps. So much can be done with the hood open and nothing else. Maybe we need a new automotive deity: Self-Reliance?

Tis the Season: For $90 Fraser Firs

Sorry, Charlie Brown. There are no trees for you at the local lot.

Even folks who sell trees call the spindly ones with a bad side "Charlie Browns," but they are hard to come by. I saw two prices today outside Pleasants Hardware: $74.99 and $94.99. I recall $5 trees on Christmas Eve, whenever possible Scotch Pines, our family favorites. We usually put up the tree Christmas Eve not out of tradition, but to save money. Mine was not a wealthy family in the late 1960s.

Today, a hundred bucks. Gulp. We have not bought a live tree in many years, preferring a Cedar we cut from our land. We remove crooked saplings and selectively thin to promote a healthy woodlot and reduce fire hazards every winter, as soon as the frost means not stepping on a Copperhead. At the edges of the woods, Red Cedars abound, and if they get sun, they usually have only one bad side and a lot of branches.

That may not be an option for many readers. Let's say you don't want to spend a bundle on a cut tree but want something nice-looking and sustainable.

I'd actually argue for a few ideas different from typical Christmas trees today. In fact, some of my ideas once marked the fad of their era.

1) Go Lucy van Pelt, not Charlie Brown. We bought, in a moment of irony, a silver tinsel tree. It's only 2' tall but it evokes childhood memories of the basement of Standard Drug in what is now Richmond's Carytown. The basement was only open in those years for the holiday season, stocked with toys and a lot of aluminum trees in one corner. The drug store put out a really nice winter wonderland, with fake snow, lots of ornaments, and colored lighting. It was magical to a kid, especially blue lights on the silver trees. The whole idea of metallic trees fell from favor for many decades but now it's BACK. Mind you, today's fake trees are Chinese made, not from a factory in Hoboken or Sheboygan or San Diego. 

2) Spend a lot on a really nice artificial tree. Not in the mood for a shiny pink aluminum tree, Charlie? A quick look online to find realistic-looking green trees ranging from 200 to 2000 dollars. To be honest, the mid-range ones appear fantastic. Look for ones that are not too regular; I saw a tree for nearly $2000 that had every branch shaped identically. Real trees do  not look that way. Once  you find the right tree, however, it could last you decades. Amortize a $400 tree and you might spend 20 dollars for each of 20 seasons. That's a quarter what a tree-lot example costs, without inflation. Like my tinsel tree, these trees do not need water and won't drop needles.

3) Plant a live tree and decorate it outside. If you have the yard for it, a 6' evergreen can come your way for under $150. For five years or so, until it gets too large, you can add lights and all-season decorations. If it's a dwarf conifer, you might be able to make it your Christmas tree for decades.

4) Get Your Goose (Feather). There's a German tradition of the "Goose Feather Tree" I only learned about today. Take a gander with Mr. Google or Mr. Bing or that Duck Duck Go fellow. The original Goose-feather trees were created by dyeing feathers green to simulate branches, then attaching them to a trunk. You can buy them ready to assemble today, at decent prices. They don't have the density of Fraser Firs, but the sparse branches let you show off large ornaments.They look quaint and cozy to me, like a Walton's tree John Boy brought down the mountain.

5) Become a Druid. A friend who studied modern-day Druidry had a bare branch in her home, beautifully decorated. It evoked the slumber of our current season. It was striking to see and when Yuletide ended, it could go in the compost or wood stove.

I am out of ideas.  But have a tree, whatever your faith. It's a wonderful tradition. A Blessed Solstice, Happy Hanukkah, and a Merry Christmas to  you.

The Joy Begins When the Wrench Stops Turning

Yesterday, while changing spark plugs on our 2006 Honda, I said to no one in particular, “I hate this!” I had dropped a magnetic tool that lifts plugs out of the deep wells in the engine’s head. The tool clattered into the inky depths of the engine compartment, to lodge itself about 1" beyond my reach. Even with the car on the lift, it took me 30 minutes to get the magnet as well as the tool that tried to retrieve it, after I dropped that too. 

Yet would I do it again? Or call some guy?

I would do it again myself in a heartbeat. Here’s why.

I look forward to reading Matthew Crawford’s book Why We Drive. I met him a few times and talked mechanic-talk when his wife Beth worked at my university. Our philosophy about being gearheads and DIYers is similar. I think he has a Distributist bent, as I do. We seem to both disdain US corporate capitalism, where billionaires own most things and pay the least, as well as communist ideals of "workers controlling the means of production," which so often means a different elite concentrates ownership of capital while duping those workers. As I currently understand Distributism, we all ARE the means of production. In an ideal world of this economic model, we'd all build our own cars or have 100 co-ops doing this to achieve an economy of scale. We'd grow our own food and build our own houses. We'd do a lot by barter.

Think Amish with more tech, though the Amish I've met are very savvy capitalists.

But back to DIY work. Matt enjoys working on vehicles more than I do. That said, we share a passion for knowing our machines. Modern vehicles are fiendishly complex, designed to force us back to the dealership’s overpriced service department. Yet there exists a sweet spot between the Model A Ford's knuckle-busting simplicity, with its concurrent lack of safety and environmental features, and today's computers on wheels. For most of these vehicles from the 1940s-early 2000s, most wrench-turners can do routine repairs and service at home with the help of the parts store and YouTube.  

When I'm done and things work well, I then enjoy the result. My passion to do more gets rekindled.

Yes, I have the enormous advantage of a full tool kit and an automotive lift. But I didn't start that way, when Uncle Carlyle and I first changed the oil on my original 1974 Buick Apollo: we used ramps, a catch pan, shop rags, and a small set of wrenches.  Today, oil-changes are easy for me and often I have them finished in 15 minutes. I feel great satisfaction, too, knowing I used the best components for less than a quick-lube shop would charge me for hasty work and bargain-grade lubricant.

You may have a vehicle that is very complex; these are modern vehicles that I've yet to have break on me, though my wife's 2017 Mini has a control panel that terrifies me. It's a $9500 fix, but for now, it is under warranty. For these complex cars and trucks, feature-creep that means every system on a vehicle gets monitored by sensors and subject to proprietary software that costs thousands of dollars, if a company will even share it (not all states have right-to-repair laws). In consequence, a clerk at Advance Auto, while selling me a battery for a car, told me they no longer can help with most vehicles after the 2013 or 14 model year; they have to be taken to a dealership to have the computer reset.

That's far beyond my skills, though I can read and reset Check-Engine codes with a 20-buck OBD II scanner and my smart phone. We do what we can, but overall, I'd still purchase the most minimalist technology I can to avoid the expenses of dealer-mandated service.

I want to invite each of you reading to this fix something instead of saying "call some guy!" My old man, whose tool kit consisted of a claw hammer and a 16D nail, would say that constantly when his two tools could not fix something. I refused to comply with his orders regarding repairs. After my Uncle showed me how to change my own oil, dad told me to have "some guy" at an auto shop check after me. I told him "hell no."

Now I want to start a handyman service called "Some Guy Repairs." Our motto: Call Some Guy Right Now!

You may well break the item you try to fix the first time. You might get it half-way right. You may lose parts. But as a colleague at work always reminds me, "don't let perfect be the enemy of good."

Start with a simple item; I don't recommend you trying to repair a home HVAC system or your car's brakes, but you might fix the cord on an electric fan or figure out how to change your own tire, so you can take the flat to the shop instead of having the vehicle towed.

You will end up with dirty hands but a sense of accomplishment.

Two Amish Dudes Save Our Pantry

I wrote last year about how silly it is building an economy around going out to eat. It's terrifying to think about my students, with parent-provided credit cards, eating out several times per week.

I still hold that idea that a foodie economy is doomed in the long run, though I'm a "foodie" and love nice meals. I also love eating in restaurants. Yet it's too easy, when worn out from work, to say "oh, let's get a pizza." That way lies going over-budget for the month. Even where we live in the country, a really nice pizza place is no more than 20 minutes away.

So what to do? I find it hard not to scream at them, when friends tell me "oh, today we went out to XYZ and had the delightful ABC." I can imagine the $40 tab per person, for lunch. At dinner? Might be $100 per diner.

Nope nope nope. Spending that much green money on a regular basis is insane. So what do we do? Do we eat franks and beans nightly, like Ralph and Alice Kramden? Children, Google that or have your AI explain who they were and why the Kramdens were once culturally important.

No, though I enjoy both Hebrew National Franks and Bush's "Country Style" beans, one need not eat them nightly to pinch that penny until it hollers. There is the Amish option. We can our own produce quite a bit, but it does not tend to be green veg. Imagine my delight when I found Jake and Amos products at The Cheese Shop near the farm where we buy all of our chicken feed. Once per month, we drive to the Shenandoah Valley to get provender for the birds and side-dishes for us. 

I contacted the company, headquartered in Myersville, PA, to find out if Jake and Amos are real. If they did not exist, we would need to invent them.  As of this post running, no reply.

 Tonight (yes, Hebrew National Franks!) we had pickled asparagus, beets, and mushrooms. Dinner issues? Solved. And what taste! For most of my life, I've associated canned food with limp, lifeless veg. That's doubly so since I began home canning. We cannot do it all,  however, so it was a joy to find a product to fill in where our garden cannot.

Fill that larder. Say no to expensive restaurant meals, making them a well-deserved and rare reward on special occasions. The Amish would approve.

Restaurant Nation? Maybe Not

 Today I spent just over $130 for groceries at Kroger. That seems alarming for the contents of 2 (admittedly very heavy) reusable bags. In another era, I'd have said "obscene" but consider this: for two nights we ate dinner in Abingdon, VA, at admittedly fine-dining establishments. Each meal cost the two of us more than I just spent at the supermarket.

Why the photo of Andy Warhol shopping for his preferred subjects? The artist brought the quotidian to our attention: the design of everyday (and humbly priced) things. One wonders if today he'd paint the boxes of artisanal pastas or containers of Seventh Generation's guilt-free, eco-safe detergents in refillable containers. Since his time, we've become (at least among the educated elite) a nation of gourmands...I mean foodies. Consider our cooking shows, our urban districts chock-full of bespoke dining options, even after COVID.

Expensive groceries, however, do not compare to $40 entrees.

Discovering this, made a decision to not eat out as often, recently. Our garden is a bit smaller this year, because we traveled at peak-planting time. But we have a vegetable stand nearby and these things called cookbooks. I do like recipes on the iPad, but something about a paper text, ad-free, on the counter charms me.

When away from home, we've learned the art of using lunch to test a restaurant out, but more often lunch means a picnic or a modest place like a taco-truck or burger place. It continues the trend we noticed, nationally, during the pandemic. I can also safely say that we won't again be eating at fine-dining places more than once or twice per year: an anniversary and a birthday, perhaps. Or not at all? Maybe not until restaurants offer more down-market options; a looming Recession may force their hands. 

Even now, options abound without resorting to a Big Mac: one of our favorite places in Richmond, a bistro called Bacchus, attracts a diverse crowd and is understated cool without being trendy. It features specials for about half the price I quoted, and the food is wonderful. I no longer feel the need (never a very strong need) for "restaurant as experience." Besides, at one place in Abingdon, the noise inside was deafening. We insisted on the patio, telling the hostess "inside is too loud." In Charlottesville for a concert, we found Sal's Caffe Italia, surrounded by upscale eateries, still offering an 80s vibe of oil paintings, quiet dining, and reasonably priced yet amazing Italian food. We'll be back.

I'm baffled why people enjoy overpriced, over-hyped, and overly loud dining but even more baffled by how anyone thought building an economy around going to movies and eating out could be sustainable. Someone enlighten me. 

Somehow, somewhere, we lost a thread of dining that once looked like this (courtesy of 1950sUnlimited at Flickr), to build an entire economy (it seems) out of going to dinner.

My family never looked or ate out like that, but we knew folks who did. Except for the very rich, those  experiences were reserved for special occasions. We all, however, aspired to be like Jet-Setters, who apparently lived like that all the time.  Remember, that was a time before credit cards. Now we can pretend to be the elite, paying later.

It won't end well, and maybe the $40 entree signals that the end is nigh. Good.

Old-School Tools: My Favorite Stick-Um

Contact cement is nothing new; many cyclists have mended an inner tube with one. After airplane glue and white glue, it was my first encounter with the magic of adhesives. The superpower of contact adhesives, to me, is precisely the  relatively long working time before the glue sets up. The repairer has the freedom to make certain the bond is solid before going back to work. Rubber cement does set up quickly, at least for bicycle repairs.  Super glue, in its many forms, works great for many applications, but it sets up nearly instantly.

For Barge Cement, however, the miracle occurs long after the DIYer walks off, leaving items in a clamp.

I found this glue highly recommended online, especially for shoe soles and other nonporous uses, but local stores didn't carry it and the big-boxes would have to order it. So I went online and did that, getting free shipping. My original plan, one to be carried out this holiday, was to glue think leather over plastic seatbelt-retractor covers on a 1974 Buick Apollo I am restoring.

Then my expensive Wellingtons, a must for muddy time, blew out a sole, right at the toe. After cleaning up both sides of the rubber, I put a thin layer of Barge All Purpose on both surfaces, waited about 10 minutes, then stuck them together, using furniture clamps to hold the bond overnight. A month later, the boot works good as new, as does a pair of shorter Cabelas slip-ons that lost a sole. I had forgotten them and went to another chore. An hour later I came back, saw the boots, cussed a bit, then decided to clamp them overnight, as I had done with the first pair. They are holding up well after a week, in wet and dry conditions.

I don't know that shoes worn daily would hold up; I'm willing to try as long as I have a spare pair at work.

Give Barge a go, whenever everyone associated with Black Friday wants you to buy something new; it's not expensive and may save many hundreds of dollars lost when an item gets discarded. Let me know how it works for you.

Electrical Devices: Simple is Best

I cannot believe how two months rolled by since my last post, but the muggy summer, a weekly blog for my employer, and lots of projects simply got in the way of blogging here. That said, the tempo may pick up at Tractorpunk with better weather and the transition to Fall work.

We had lightning strike very close to the house, destroying an over-engineered, gadget-laden Samsung French Door refrigerator that no service tech would work on. That also goes for LG appliances around here. The reason? Complexity and expensive parts.  So after an insurance claim out went the fancy machine and in went a Maytag top-freezer with nothing fancier than an ice-maker. For cool water? Keep the pitcher filled we used when we were filtering water for a month. The Maytag is highly rated and US built, from their plant in Iowa. I'm not the "buy American" sort but when a US-made item is superior and at a good price, that's my preference.  The new "icebox" (a term I love) has so far provided sterling service and if (when) the ice maker breaks, replacements for a DIY fix can be had for $50.

I'm not quite ready to go back to my parents' defrost-twice-a-year Frigidaire, a unit they got in the heady days right after WWII ended, and dad came back from the Navy to a Postwar boom and his and mom's first home. They kept that icebox for nearly 30  years. For those who don't recall Postwar fridges, check Denis Byrne's The Antique Refrigerator site. The claim there is that these old units are getting trendy again. One reloader in my acquaintance uses one to store gunpowder (it's not plugged in).

We will see if defrosting a fridge gets trendy again. I rather doubt that.

Speaking of reloading, recently another over-engineered device, my electronic scale, began to show "drift": the powder-charges shown were varying to unsafe levels, even after the scale had warmed up. I found myself checking every load with a balance-beam scale of the sort used for decades.  Now that the manufacturer is going to fix or replace my electronic scale under warranty, I plan to sell it and keep doing things the old-fashioned way. It is just as fast, though I ordered a set of "check weights" to be sure my mechanical scale always gets properly zeroed and calibrated when I load ammo.

I used the balance-beam scale recently to reload a batch of .38 special. It was just as fast as the electric. 

These two very different, and differently priced, devices taught me an important lesson about unneeded complexity in the equipment we use. This blog began with a post about the virtues of simple farm tractors. I have been rightly accused by being a throwback, not wanting power locks or windows on my cars; I "got off easy" for $240 having the door-lock actuator in the driver's side door of my Honda C-RV replaced. That sounds fair, until you consider that I can replace the door lock on my '74 Buick project car for a quarter that price and do the work myself.

Then consider that the Honda has three other lock actuators.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.