Dave - fixing the backhoe

July 2, 2021 - Friday morning

41 degrees/partly cloudy skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

The Fourth of July weekend unofficially begins today. No doubt, there'll be those who have taken a vacation day to stretch a three day holiday weekend into four. 

It'll be truck, camper, truck, camper, and so on, as the tourists flock north to escape the city noise and heat. Seems the majority are from downstate Wisconsin or Chicago, six hours away. 

I don't mind the tourists. I do hope they remember that there are a few of us who live here year round and that this is our home as well as their playground.

Thursday was a busy one. I headed to town immediately after my walk to "help" Dave fix the backhoe. (Note: there are definite quotes around the word help.)

There are some people who seem to be born with an innate knowledge of how things work, be it mechanical, structural, carpentry, plumbing, etc. My son, Andy, has that gift. I'm pretty sure he was born with a fistful of wrenches in one hand.

Mechanic Dave's the same. What a talent.

We began the morning by towing the backhoe into the shop using a skid steer.

Naturally, the break, a fracture really, was on the underside of the frame and could only be reached by tearing the backhoe completely apart. That entailed draining several gallons of hydraulic fluid, disconnecting all the hoses, and removing the motor before pulling pins and moving hydraulic cylinders out of the way.

Eventually, the back half of the backhoe was flipped upside down. Only then could Dave begin to grind out the old weld.

We (he) discovered that the stress fractures had weakened the area where the legs that keep the backhoe from moving while digging are attached. 

Dave pounded, heated, ground, reinforced, and welded it all. In the end, the backhoe was made as strong, or even stronger, than the day it came from the factory seven years ago, when Dave initially put it all together.

I enjoy Dave's company. Having adopted children, fostering others, and having their own, he's a natural teacher and seems to enjoy explaining what he's doing at the time and why he's doing it. Every time I'm around the boy, I learn something new, be it about mechanics or welding.

I also like that he occasionally calls me Old Man.  Coming from Dave and the way he says it, I take it as the ultimate compliment. 

I usually call him Son. My heart's big enough, there's always room for one more, especially for someone who has a bigger heart than mine.

Welding and grinding done, it was time to reassemble the machine and begin putting all the pieces back together.

It wasn't yet noon when I towed the backhoe away. I know it sounds strange, but while the machine was inoperable, I missed it, not because of the work I couldn't do, but... oh heck, I don't know. I just missed it. 

The old Ford 8N tractor and the backhoe are my two favorites in my outside toy box of life. Inside, it's my scroll saw and lathe. 

Mom was right when she said I'd never grow up.

I hadn't seen Sargie all morning so we decided to take a ride. I just KNEW she wanted to hear each and every detail of fixing the backhoe. 

I have to hand it to the girl. She smiled and nodded at all the right times. 

The day was pleasant with low humidity and cool temperatures.

I have no idea why, but I was all done in by the time we arrived back home. Other than take my walk and "supervise" Dave, again in extreme quotes, I hadn't done a thing. I sat in my recliner, closed my eyes, and didn't open them again for almost an hour.

With the energy tank once again refilled, it was time to mow the back trails. With all the rain that's fallen this past week, the grass had grown inches per day.

There are two large ash trees that I'll be cutting for firewood, probably today. 

Once I was finished mowing, I used the two wheeled weed trimmer to mow around the base of the trees and where they should fall. 

About ready to call it quits, I unhooked the backhoe from the Blazer and moved the legs and wheels into the digging position. I mean, I HAD to try it, didn't I?

It took but a mere roar of the engine and swipe of the controls before I knew we were back in business, my backhoe and me.

The last chore of the day was to take table scraps back to feed the bears. It had been a good day, busy, but good.

My poor poor son, Andy, is preparing for an oil rig move near Trinidad, but first, has to quarantine in the island nation of Curaco, off the coast of Venezuela. He's has the run of the island for the next seven days before he can get to work.

Why aren't I feeling bad for the boy? 

The view from Andy's hotel room

I also learned that my son, Matt, is leaving next week for Switzerland on business. For being brought up in the remote wilds of northern Maine, my sons sure get around the world. Andy seems to think he'll be heading to Norway as soon as the Trinidad job is finished.

Poor kid.

Okay, it's time to get the day started. The sun is up and I want to get my walk in before playing Paul Bunyon and cutting down those two large ash trees. Today's goal is to get the wood up to the sheds where it can be split and stacked for next winter's use.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...