From Veeduber@aol.com  Tue Oct  3 20:13:14 1995
msgnum: msg16935
Date: Tue, 3 Oct 1995 21:13:11 -0400
From: Veeduber_at_aol_dot_com
Subject: Grendel, Tuesday II


I felt the pulse of the Heart of Darkness today when I was kicked out of the
shop I'd been invited to use.  There was no reason for being told to hit the
road except the momentary sense of power you could see flash across the guy's
face.  It seems the person who gave me permission to use the space did not
have that right and in some strange way the outcome of the Simpsom trial and
the hippie nature of Grendel's paint job and my being from California
combined to trigger a strange rage that could only be satisfied by a petty
act of cruelty.

I can't describe the depths into which my spirit plummeted when told I
couldn't use the shop.  If this were a novel a White Knight would appear in
the next chapter and the story would have a happy ending.  But this is gritty
reality and the last White Knight was captured by a black pawn centuries ago.

Without the shop and welding equipment it will be impossible to complete the
drum-puller.  The labor and resources I've already expended are wasted, sunk
cost with zero recovery value.  I hauled my gear out of the shop, called my
host for a ride and sat waiting on my tool box, wondering what to do next.

The shop incident has put a strain on the relations between my host and I, to
say nothing of my two week long stay.  Circumstances may force me to abandon
Grendel.  But I'll give it one last try.

Coming back from the shop I bought a cheap electric drill and three titanium
drill bits.  The drill motor is a single-speed design with a plastic case,
very cheaply made although expensively priced.  It spins at 1,200 rpm and I
selected the drill bits -- all the same size -- based on the drill's rpm
rating and the fact I would be drilling cast iron.  I plan to drill off
Grendel's sticky drum.  

Back at the house I repositioned Grendel so I could reach her with an
extension cord, made myself a work area by rigging some bailing wire over
which I can sling a tarp for when it rains.  Today is dry, rather cold and
windy but rain is the thing to plan for up here so I do a good job of it,
with side stays, a built-up floor of plywood over scraps of 2x4 and a drain
channel to keep the area around the left rear wheel as dry as possible.  An
old kitchen chair stood beside a trash bin down the alley.  I hauled it back
to Grendel, sat down and began to drill holes in the cast-iron brake drum.

In my mind's eye I can see a pattern of holes that will unlock the hub and
allow it to come free even witout the aid of a puller.  There are sixty-four
holes in each pattern.  I will need to repeat the pattern four times.  

The titanium drills do a good job, eating eagerly into the cast iron.  I
spend five hours drilling holes, consuming the three drill bits and
shattering my precious S-K 5/8" cold chisel, companion of many years.  I
finish one pattern of holes and part of a second.  My arms and shoulders are
shaking with fatigue when the setting sun ends my workday.

Drilling the hub is a destructive act.  Undrilled, the thing would at least
roll, the drum complete and apparantly safe.  Having drilled the hub I've
immobilized Grendel, a fact I haven't shared with my host.  All of my eggs
are now in the one baskit of my skills, I must get the drum off or call the
junkyard tow truck.  Tomorrow I'll hike down and buy more drills and
hopefully, a replacement chisel.  Sometime tomorrow afternoon Grendel's
sticky hub will lay in two pieces on the ground.

We do what we have to do in life.  I have to get Grendel home.  Then I'll
think about why.

-Bob