Marlowe
Gold Member
I've been up to my ears in alligators lately with too many things to do, and not enough hours in the day. I've got a deadline on my building permit to get the first inspection done by December 29th on my new home. I'm close. But, close isn't good enough. I've got the footer trenches dug. I used a friend's Caterpillar track hoe to do the job, and it did great. Fun, too. But we can only do so much with equipment. The time comes when we have to get in the ditch and finish up with a shovel. Now for me, if things can go wrong, they do.
It rained before I could shovel out the loose stuff. Not just any rain; monsoon stuff.
I'm building on clay. The rain turned loose clay into sticky, icky, gooey muck that clings to a shovel and your shoes. The kind of yuck that has to be beat off a shovel and jerks the boots off your feet if you dare take a step. Oh yeah; you're getting the picture. But, I have perceviered. I'm ready for the rebar.
It sure would be nice to have some electricity on the job site though. So I call, and then go by, the local co-op. They send and ex--pert out to place the temporay power pole. Now that doesn't mean that he actually does anything. He just tells me where to put the pole. He's a regulay rocket scientist too.
"Will you be driving in this part of the lot sir?", he asks, pointing to a spot pretty much right in the middle of my driveway. Stevie Wonder could have seen that it was a bad spot for a pole. I was nice.
"Yep."
"Hmmm, then. Let's see. How about over here?", he asked, pointing to a spot obviously off to the side of my driveway.
"Now that would work buddy."
Without bending over he throws a flag, a very official power company flag, into the dirt, thereby marking the exact spot for my temporary power pole. Now I can get on with my project with one hundred amps of co-op power. Just send me the bill.
Ah, but now we get to the tractor part.
A good buddy of mine is excited to learn that it is time for a power pole. He gets on the horn checking with the network of friends to see who may have one. Lucky for me, Bee Bop has one.
Now for those of you who think that Bee Bop sounds a bit strange of a name for a friend, remember, I'm from the south. In my circle of friends I have not only a Bee Bop, but a Taco, and a Bo Bo, and lots and lots of Bubbas. The leader of the pack is a long time friend named Ham.
Ham calls me back pronto to let me know that Bee Bop has a power pole and he is on his way to Bee Bop's house to pick it up. He'll deliver it the next day when he gets off work.
Great! I'll be waiting.
When Ham arrives he finds a muck hole beyond belief. It's been raining and my driveway, although it looks good, takes all of his four wheel drive finesse to maneuver. He gets the trailer, and power pole as close as we can slip and slide our way in. So much for his Chevy; now it's time for my Mitsubishi.
I pull in close with the front end loader and pick the pole up. After Ham pulls his truck and trailer out of the way, I carefully position the pole next to the hole I dug the day before. As luck would have it, my neighbor Terry shows up just in time. Yep, I actually have some friends with normal names.
With Ham and Terry guiding it in, I drop the pole in place, and then maneuver the front end loader to the top of the pole. When all is ready, I lift. So far, so good, but the bucket will only lift so far, and we still have a ways to go. With Ham and Terry steadying the pole, and both giving directions at the same time, I move the tractor forward. My home made root rakes have the pole in very tenuous control as the bucket reaches the limit of its upward lift. Now I very carefully inch forward as my two buddies coax the pole into the hole. It wobbles, it wiggles, and it threatens to crush my two best buddies, but eventually, it falls into the hole. No blood shed, no broken bones.
I'm beginning to love my little tractor. Even in the mud and the muck, it comes through.
Soon I'll have electricity, and maybe I'll have time to figure out how to resize pictures so I can post them.
Tom, happy with his little tractor.
It rained before I could shovel out the loose stuff. Not just any rain; monsoon stuff.
I'm building on clay. The rain turned loose clay into sticky, icky, gooey muck that clings to a shovel and your shoes. The kind of yuck that has to be beat off a shovel and jerks the boots off your feet if you dare take a step. Oh yeah; you're getting the picture. But, I have perceviered. I'm ready for the rebar.
It sure would be nice to have some electricity on the job site though. So I call, and then go by, the local co-op. They send and ex--pert out to place the temporay power pole. Now that doesn't mean that he actually does anything. He just tells me where to put the pole. He's a regulay rocket scientist too.
"Will you be driving in this part of the lot sir?", he asks, pointing to a spot pretty much right in the middle of my driveway. Stevie Wonder could have seen that it was a bad spot for a pole. I was nice.
"Yep."
"Hmmm, then. Let's see. How about over here?", he asked, pointing to a spot obviously off to the side of my driveway.
"Now that would work buddy."
Without bending over he throws a flag, a very official power company flag, into the dirt, thereby marking the exact spot for my temporary power pole. Now I can get on with my project with one hundred amps of co-op power. Just send me the bill.
Ah, but now we get to the tractor part.
A good buddy of mine is excited to learn that it is time for a power pole. He gets on the horn checking with the network of friends to see who may have one. Lucky for me, Bee Bop has one.
Now for those of you who think that Bee Bop sounds a bit strange of a name for a friend, remember, I'm from the south. In my circle of friends I have not only a Bee Bop, but a Taco, and a Bo Bo, and lots and lots of Bubbas. The leader of the pack is a long time friend named Ham.
Ham calls me back pronto to let me know that Bee Bop has a power pole and he is on his way to Bee Bop's house to pick it up. He'll deliver it the next day when he gets off work.
Great! I'll be waiting.
When Ham arrives he finds a muck hole beyond belief. It's been raining and my driveway, although it looks good, takes all of his four wheel drive finesse to maneuver. He gets the trailer, and power pole as close as we can slip and slide our way in. So much for his Chevy; now it's time for my Mitsubishi.
I pull in close with the front end loader and pick the pole up. After Ham pulls his truck and trailer out of the way, I carefully position the pole next to the hole I dug the day before. As luck would have it, my neighbor Terry shows up just in time. Yep, I actually have some friends with normal names.
With Ham and Terry guiding it in, I drop the pole in place, and then maneuver the front end loader to the top of the pole. When all is ready, I lift. So far, so good, but the bucket will only lift so far, and we still have a ways to go. With Ham and Terry steadying the pole, and both giving directions at the same time, I move the tractor forward. My home made root rakes have the pole in very tenuous control as the bucket reaches the limit of its upward lift. Now I very carefully inch forward as my two buddies coax the pole into the hole. It wobbles, it wiggles, and it threatens to crush my two best buddies, but eventually, it falls into the hole. No blood shed, no broken bones.
I'm beginning to love my little tractor. Even in the mud and the muck, it comes through.
Soon I'll have electricity, and maybe I'll have time to figure out how to resize pictures so I can post them.
Tom, happy with his little tractor.