You cray cray.
Mark's Off Road Warehouse Fire Thread
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- #422
I have no intention of leaving footprints in hot shingles! I do my roofing work from 6-9 or 10 in the morning, 6:30-8:30 in the evenings.
Luckily the workload at work leaves room for a nap every day.
Luckily the workload at work leaves room for a nap every day.
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- #423
Oh, and I’m getting ready for the next leg of the shop reorganization: moving the workbench. Another pallet rack will go where the workbench is now, and that should resolve most of my remaining storage issues.
Then I can start buying more parts. Or maybe build some headers.
Then I can start buying more parts. Or maybe build some headers.
The roof looks great!
Did I hear someone say...... headers? 
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- #426
Well, I'm inching closer to moving the workbench. Deciding on what rack will go over it. Probably going to take one of the ones out of the lemonade stand at home and try to piece it back together [I cut them down to fit in the container.]
Other than that, trying to take care of business and myself. It seems I overdid it on the last big section of roofing, strained something in my abdomen, and ended up having the hiccups for 23 days! Most nights I couldn't manage more than 2 hours of sleep at a time. Occasionally I got 3 or 3.5. Hiccups finally ended last Sunday.
Other than that, trying to take care of business and myself. It seems I overdid it on the last big section of roofing, strained something in my abdomen, and ended up having the hiccups for 23 days! Most nights I couldn't manage more than 2 hours of sleep at a time. Occasionally I got 3 or 3.5. Hiccups finally ended last Sunday.
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- #427
Now you see it:
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- #428
Now you don’t
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- #429
Spent a couple of hours moving the last of the transmission parts to the new racks I put up months ago so I could take this boltless shelf unit down. NOW I can start staging removal of all the stuff on the workbench so I can move it!
THIS IS HAPPENING!
THIS IS HAPPENING!
Will I recognize your place next time I walk in?? All this renovation. Hope it all goes smooth and easy.
Looking good!
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- #432
I am seriously excited just to see the surface of the workbench again. And oh the unobtanium treasures I found buried in the piles of residue from three decades of projects!
https://forum.ih8mud.com/threads/there-is-a-special-place.117281/page-2#post-11855859
It’s interesting for me to look at it now as it evolved, knowing what worked...and what didn’t.
There was a wall cabinet above the bench I took down probably a decade ago. The pegboard that replaced it didn’t get much use either.
I am thinking about a couple of rows of small drawers to hover over the bench for this new incarnation. I think 4x4 and 12” deep. Maybe I’ll just do bin boxes. Gotta move the sucker first.
https://forum.ih8mud.com/threads/there-is-a-special-place.117281/page-2#post-11855859
It’s interesting for me to look at it now as it evolved, knowing what worked...and what didn’t.
There was a wall cabinet above the bench I took down probably a decade ago. The pegboard that replaced it didn’t get much use either.
I am thinking about a couple of rows of small drawers to hover over the bench for this new incarnation. I think 4x4 and 12” deep. Maybe I’ll just do bin boxes. Gotta move the sucker first.
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- #433
Well, I moved it! Took over an hour to put stuff away and stage transferring stuff over to an intermediate location, but it is moved. Ordered five dozen new bin boxes, at least half of which will be for carb parts. Pics when I get the rack and work light set up.
In the meantime, work goes on. Just finished up a carb rebuild and vac advance dizzy with Pertronix for @streetracer101
In the meantime, work goes on. Just finished up a carb rebuild and vac advance dizzy with Pertronix for @streetracer101
Coming along nicely Mark.
I did what I swore would be my last ever roof last summer. It damn near kilt me.
It was steep roof on a rental property we own.
My legs and back were sore for a week.
But time dulls the memory, especially as we get older, and as we are currently looking for another house I don't find myself shying away from houses that will require a new roof. You can't fix stupid (or being cheap).
@Ghetto Fireman , sharp looking van. Who did the 4x4?
I did what I swore would be my last ever roof last summer. It damn near kilt me.
It was steep roof on a rental property we own.
My legs and back were sore for a week.
But time dulls the memory, especially as we get older, and as we are currently looking for another house I don't find myself shying away from houses that will require a new roof. You can't fix stupid (or being cheap).
@Ghetto Fireman , sharp looking van. Who did the 4x4?
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- #435
I see it a little different Kevin. There was a thread in Chat discussing a book called ‘Shopclass as Soulcraft’ in which I posted about what I call manual competence. One of the reasons that I chose not to follow the suit and tie career after I passed the State Bar was my lifelong interest and satisfaction in working with my hands.
I believe the opportunity to continue producing things of physical, tangible benefit feeds a fundamental esteem feedback loop in our egos. I know that sounds fru-fru, but it's a lot more precise than just saying it makes me feel good to know I can still do it.
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Not at all Mark. We are on the same page.
I completed a B.Sc. in Computer Science and only lasted a year in a cubicle before it got to me.
I went back to construction and have been at it ever since. In my 40s I got into management as the manual labour was taking its toll on my body. Since then I still get on the tools quite a bit and most of my hobbies include working with my hands.
It is very satisfying to see a completed project.
What I find as I am getting older is I can't do what I used to, like spending all day bent over with a roofing nailer in my hand.
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- #437
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- #438
Well, I haven’t wasted any time. One of the more unique things I inherited from my dad that survived the warehouse fire was a dozen sheets of white plastic ranging from 1/8” to 1/2” thick. I may have mentioned them before in the thread about the 1.5 carat diamond. In any event, I decided that rather than continuing to work on the light-sponging green linoleum, I would cut one of the plastic sheets.
I spent part of Saturday and part of Sunday running power to the workbench and cutting a few odds and ends to fit. I’m already on my fourth carb at the now-well-illuminated workbench, which also has enough light to be a good photo backdrop!
I spent part of Saturday and part of Sunday running power to the workbench and cutting a few odds and ends to fit. I’m already on my fourth carb at the now-well-illuminated workbench, which also has enough light to be a good photo backdrop!
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- #439
Still trying to decide on the layout of the shelves and bin boxes.
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- #440
Well, apparently I only thought I had written that story down. Since I can't think of a title for it at the moment, I'll just drop it in here. When it gets a title, maybe I will give it it's own thread. Greg @73fj40lc , here's another one.
I have mentioned in several other threads how close my father and I became after my nearly fatal bicycle accident in 1980, and how we remained so until he passed in 1999. As I mentioned in the “There Is A Special Place” thread, I continued to feel my father's spirit long after his body ceased to breathe. This is another one of those stories.
A couple of years after I remodeled my kitchen in 2001 we had a small leak under the kitchen sink. Being as our cabinets were typical oak faced with pressboard interior, I knew it wouldn't take well to getting wet. Luckily we caught the leak right away. But I decided as an extra precaution that I would cut a sheet of plastic to put down inside the cabinet. I just happened to have inherited a dozen 4' x 8' sheets of white plastic that my father had not put to use before he died.
So I went over to his warehouse [the same one that caught fire in 2016] get a piece of plastic and cut it to size. Every time I went to the warehouse in those days I still felt my dad's presence there. It had been his man-cave, and the place where we had most of our serious discussions about life.
I laid a sheet out on the floor, got a marker and tape measure from his desk and started to mark out my dimensions. In the middle of scribing a line on the plastic, the marker went dry. So I retracted the tape measure, got up, went into his office and grabbed another marker. Then I knelt back down, pulled the tape measure back out and went to continue my marking. As I extended the marker to the spot where I had left off, I had to stop. Where I had left off marking, there was now a 1.5 carat diamond sitting on the plastic sheet!
At that point in my life I had been going through some rocky times trying to juggle my business (think dot.bomb), my family, and help my mother get her financial affairs sorted out now that she was 'running solo.' I felt that that diamond was my dad's way of telling me that I was still on the right path, and doing a good job. And in case you all don't remember, my dad was a jeweler.
I kept that diamond with me and enjoyed showing it off on a regular basis for the next couple of years; more so in telling the story of how I got it. Unfortunately, after dining with some friends at Bob's Big Boy in Toluca Lake one morning, someone pick-pocketed my cycling jersey. I lost my cash, my drivers license, half a dozen credit cards. And I lost the diamond. But I still have the memory.
I have mentioned in several other threads how close my father and I became after my nearly fatal bicycle accident in 1980, and how we remained so until he passed in 1999. As I mentioned in the “There Is A Special Place” thread, I continued to feel my father's spirit long after his body ceased to breathe. This is another one of those stories.
A couple of years after I remodeled my kitchen in 2001 we had a small leak under the kitchen sink. Being as our cabinets were typical oak faced with pressboard interior, I knew it wouldn't take well to getting wet. Luckily we caught the leak right away. But I decided as an extra precaution that I would cut a sheet of plastic to put down inside the cabinet. I just happened to have inherited a dozen 4' x 8' sheets of white plastic that my father had not put to use before he died.
So I went over to his warehouse [the same one that caught fire in 2016] get a piece of plastic and cut it to size. Every time I went to the warehouse in those days I still felt my dad's presence there. It had been his man-cave, and the place where we had most of our serious discussions about life.
I laid a sheet out on the floor, got a marker and tape measure from his desk and started to mark out my dimensions. In the middle of scribing a line on the plastic, the marker went dry. So I retracted the tape measure, got up, went into his office and grabbed another marker. Then I knelt back down, pulled the tape measure back out and went to continue my marking. As I extended the marker to the spot where I had left off, I had to stop. Where I had left off marking, there was now a 1.5 carat diamond sitting on the plastic sheet!
At that point in my life I had been going through some rocky times trying to juggle my business (think dot.bomb), my family, and help my mother get her financial affairs sorted out now that she was 'running solo.' I felt that that diamond was my dad's way of telling me that I was still on the right path, and doing a good job. And in case you all don't remember, my dad was a jeweler.
I kept that diamond with me and enjoyed showing it off on a regular basis for the next couple of years; more so in telling the story of how I got it. Unfortunately, after dining with some friends at Bob's Big Boy in Toluca Lake one morning, someone pick-pocketed my cycling jersey. I lost my cash, my drivers license, half a dozen credit cards. And I lost the diamond. But I still have the memory.
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