Lessons

We were working on the new retaining wall the other day. Prior to laying the new wall I had stacked the blocks in that dirt area just in front. I completely forgot that it's the place where my dog, Trooper, likes to lay.  As soon as the last block was placed, he was quick to reclaim his spot. The dirt is cool and soft. It's a place he knows well, having lived here his entire life. He's comfortable and contented.

Trooper is a good dog. That is to say he's a near perfect dog, I just lack the wit to properly appreciate him. 

What a dog. I love him fiercely and I'm not a bit ashamed to admit that.

I held this life in my hands when he was only 5 days old. We were meant to be together.   

In 1995 I decided I wanted another Labrador Retriever. I grew up with them and had a powerful urge for another. Lu did the legwork and found a breeder a couple of hours away. We drove out to meet them and their dogs. I was escorted to a dirt area next to the kennels and the breeder opened a door. Out flooded a wave of black, chocolate and yellow puppies, their bodies wriggling with happiness at meeting someone new. They swarmed around my feet, lapping against my ankles in a deluge of Labrador joy. Shoes were chewed, strings fought and petting was demanded. I was in heaven.

Then he took me to the whelping box where I met one of the sweetest creatures God ever put on this earth. Sister.

Sister was a Black Lab, an absolute joy. I loved her instantly and knew I had to have one of her puppies. Lu was completely surprised. She expected me to take a puppy home that day. But I was hooked and God had a different plan in store for me.

Now, when one buys a purebred puppy from a reputable breeder it's first come first served. Johnny on the spot gets first dibs and so it goes until all potential picks are spoken for. Sister was bred with a Chocolate Lab so she was likely to have a more or less 50/50 split between black and chocolate. I was late to the party. Most of the likely pups had already been spoken for, both colors, down to third and even fourth pick. With one notable exception. That late in the game I got first choice black male. Sister gave birth to exactly 1 black male. Trooper. We were meant to be together. It was God's gift to me, one have never been worthy of.

Trooper was born to Sister on November 30th, 1995. The breeder called me to let me know and 5 days later I was there, standing beside the whelping box and gazing at my new friend. The breeder lifted him up and carefully placed him in my hands. I cradled that tiny form against my chest. He silently mewled and then snuggled in like he had always known me and was just wondering where I'd been.

I brought Trooper home 44 days later. I carried him out to the truck for his ride to his new home. He was fat and soft and warm in my arms. I placed him on the seat next to me and he snuggled against my leg. I put my hand down and he immediately put his head in my palm and went to sleep, somehow secure in the knowledge that this was where he belonged.  

With the exception of a few days here and there when I was out of town for training, we've been together every day since. Our lives entertwined. We learned from each other. I taught him what every good dog needs to know. Good behavior, fetch, hand, voice and whistle commands. He taught me patience, kindness, dignity and the joy in simple pleasures. He got the short end of the stick.

We hunted together, slept together, traveled together and learned together. He has been my constant companion. He has one last thing he's teaching me.

He's old and grey now, mostly blind and almost completely deaf. His left hip was replaced a couple of years ago and sometimes he limps a little. He takes medicine for his thyroid and bad allergies. He sleeps most of the time. His legs twitch in dream chases, his flews blow as he softly barks in delight at some doggie fantasy. But he's still alive. We can still go for walks. Still take rides in the truck. He still loves his nightly treats and having his tummy scratched at bedtime. He still greets me with manic enthusiasm at the end of my work day. He still knows when It's been a bad one and I need him to just love me. He still sleeps at my feet when I sit down to write. He still wants to be near me whenever I'm home. He's still my dog and that's all he's ever wanted to be.

As I watch as Trooper ages and gets ever closer to the Rainbow Bridge, I am reminded that I too am aging and drawing ever closer to the end of my time here. I'm not as fast or as strong as I was. I can't work as hard or as long as I used to. My body aches with old injuries. My youth is behind me and my elder days ahead.

But Trooper does not know that he is getting old. He still thinks like the happy, boisterous, clownish puppy he was. He makes no excuses and never misses an opportunity to have a little fun. He possesses a comic dignity that only another Lab lover can truly understand. He is content in being what he is and to let the world find it's own way. As long as we're together.

And that is his final lesson to me. I will not acknowledge my approaching infirmities. I will not let them get purchase on my soul, whatever they may do to my body. My body may age but I won't. 
I will love each day and approach it without fear or regrets. I will celebrate and laugh and find joy in the small things. I will live what life remains me as fully as I can. Come what may. I will ride my bicycle. I will go on that pheasant hunt I've always dreamed of. I will kiss my wife. I will tell my child and grandchildren that I love them.

I will scratch my dogs belly.

I owe it to Trooper.
Thanks Pal.

Bubba

I recently finished a class for work. It was the Instructor Development Course. To graduate I had to pick a subject, write a tutorial and actually teach the class. I chose Police Bicycle Patrol.

But what angle to use? I pondered and pondered. Then it hit me. My nickname.

See, as some of you know, I'm a recovering meathead. A powerlifter. A guy who specializes in picking up and putting down heavy things. Never world class, I can say with all due modesty that I was pretty good at it. At my largest I was about 270 pounds (239ish at the moment). A badly blown Achilles tendon, a second shoulder surgery, a motorcycle crash wrecked hip and a host of chronic aches and pains convinced me that at 50, it was time to find another athletic outlet (hence my move into pedal powered transport). All this to tell you that my nickname was/still is, I swear, Bubba. 

So, Bubba the Bike Cop was born.

What's Wrong with this picture?

The class was on how to start a bicycle patrol, starting with uniform and equipment. I led the class on what a bike cop needs to do the job. I presented Bubba as What Not To Do and as a starting point for our theoretical bicycle patrolman. Yes, that is yours truly. I'm still carrying too much on top and, yeah, that's what happens to ones legs when one catastrophically rips an Achilles tendon. I'm working on it. Really.

Much to my surprise and delight, the class was a hit. They really got into equipping Bubba and pointing out what a goober he was. Really, really got into it. I'm still trying to live it down. I passed the class and actually got a good score on my presentation so I guess the humiliation was worth it. I got an A and I exposed others (some of whom are or will be chief officers) to the real benefits of the bike. Another win for bicycling!

But it is clear to me now that I will be Bubba among my circle of peers for the rest of my career and probably my life.

Eh, I can live with that.

Sweet Baby Schwinn

DONE.

The bike is done and I'm back on my meds again. The wife will be so happy.

When last we left our project it was basically done but not yet together. Let's now join Insane Crazy Welder Boy, already in progress.

Ok. Assembly day.

Here's the crank in place. It went in easy as pie with only a little grease and even less swearing. It's off the donor and yeah, it's a single gear. It's not rusty and simplifies the build considerably because I don't have to come up with a working front derailleur. That's a good thing because I seem to be short exactly 1 front derailleur. Also a close up of the repair, sanded and painted.

I gathered all the brake pieces I had and put them in a 1 big pile. Then I seperated them into 2 smaller piles; Parts I recognize and parts that are obviously from a crashed UFO. I took the parts I recognized and managed to make 2 brake systems. I even managed to use the old, hard rubber pads. If you put them on the grinder and go past the outer hardness there is a whole new layer of nice rubber goodness underneath. And joy of joys, they're all schwinn.                                                                                                   

Rear

Front

Here's those bars I cobbled together with levers and some grips I had laying around. Doesn't saying I have stuff 'laying around' sound a little too convenient? It's all true. I swear.  The levers went on with only a little prying and crying. And some hammering. Again.                                     

Here it is with bars, crank, pedals and seat.

It seemed to be missing something....

I kept the original Schwinn World badge from the original bike. I carefully polished it but otherwise left it alone. It's things like this that make me love this bike.                                                                             

A couple of very, very small screws in hands better suited to holding heated metal make for a comedy of dropped things and colorful language. Even the dogs left in disgust.                                                                                                   

Ah. Schwinney goodness!

Rear wheel with derailleur and chain. The chain is from the donor. I got to use my new tool, the chain breaker and a masterlink that kinda, sorta works. I think the anvil and a ball peen hammer are on the upgrade list. Notice the black painted hub shield. Dewd, it like rocks and stuff. Totally.    

Cables all hooked up and a thumb shifter from...you guessed it, the donor. I hate that frame but I shamelessly stole its parts.                                                                                                                                          

And here it is in all it's beautiful blue Schwinn glory. The brakes brake, derailleur derails, pedals pedal and crank...uh, cranks. The frame is solid and the wheels spin easy if not exactly up to Gary Fisher trueness specs. The rust is all gone and the paint is moderately attractive. It has a seat and a very unique handlebar.                                                                           

Is it road worthy? Is it safe? Beats me. I'm certainly not going to go first. I enlisted a lovely and far too trusting test pilot. "Hey honey, can you come here for a second?"                                                       

Nothing broke. Everything worked and a good time was had by all. In fact, Lu immediately put her claim on it and declared it was just the thing for casual rides with her mom. Now that's misplaced confidence!            

                                     

Lu's Tribute Collage                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                                                        

 Before. Ewww.

                                                                                   After. Mmmm.

All attempted humor aside, I'm very proud of the work I did on this project. I took a pile of rust and bentness that was headed for the recycle (heh heh) bin, another donor someone also left in a field to rot like the Schwinn, 31 dollars in parts and about 16 hours of actual work time and got a pretty neat bicycle.

It's not a trainer or racer. You'll never see someone doing a century on it. It'll never see a hill higher than what the local streets can offer. It's got ancient brakes, 27 inch tires and a handlebar that's a phrenologists dream. It's a 5 speed instead of 10. It has an ungainly lump in the frame that causes people to ask "what the heck is that for?"

But everything works and she rides just fine.

In my eyes she's beautiful. Maybe because in a very real sense, I created her. I took some parts and an idea and made something of value. Maybe only valuable to me and the missus but valued all the same. To me this is way more than just a Schwinn World Traveler with some different and unusual parts and repairs.

Oh, the Schwinn is still in there, don't doubt it for a second. In fact I think she's aware of her new lease on life. Her escape from the oblivion of being melted down to provide steel for some hipster doofus' nose bolt. I think she's proud of her new clothes and her new purpose. I think she's pleased.

I know I am.

To Doohickie, the motivation and inspiration for this project I say, Thank You my friend. I've never had so much fun. The hours I spent totally engrossed in her and completely unaware of job, personal problems, world problems, stresses or even my surroundings were some of the most pleasant I've spent in years. So much so that I'm looking for another challenge.

To all my friends who have encouraged me and commented on my progress, thank you again. I hope you are happy with the results.

It has been an absolute ball and I have no idea what's next.

Now if you'll excuse me, I hear Sweet Baby Schwinn calling my name.

I'm think I'm going for a ride.

No Welding This Time. Sigh.

We're getting closer. Actually, as you read this the bike is officially done. It's just gonna take at least 2 more posts to cover it all.

This is the official list of new parts I just had to buy. Two 27 inch tires, two 27 inch tubes, two rubber tube protectors (the guy at the bike shop called them spoke condoms. He's a funny guy) and a set of cables. The pedals pictured are off my wife's Gary Fisher but it turned out they wouldn't fit (wrong size threads) so I went with the set off the donor frame. I also stole her old seat.

Total? $30.00.

Remember the cruiser handlebars off the donor frame? Remember how I said I was a cheap bastard? You do? Good cause I decided to straighten them, cut them off and make a flat bar out of them.

I absolutely love power tools. The real reason I did this project was just to justify owning them. I heated them up with my trusty oxy/acetylene torch and bent (And hammered. Let's not forget the hammering) them more or less straight then cut em down to a more human size.

I got this. A little bumpy but they'll work just fine and look okay once I get the brakes and shifter mounted. I hope.
Of course I couldn't do this alone. I did have some expert help. They're taking a break here. Just before this shot they were all over that bike, slobbering on things and generally making themselves useful.

The frame needed some final finishing. I decided to smooth some rough edges with Fast Steel and a sander.

It's not fast and it's not steel but it is harder than bondo so...

Cut off a chunk.
Knead it to mix in the hardener.
And spread it on. You have about 15 minutes so you know, no hurry. BTW, fingers make great putty knives.

Time to sand. Woo Hoo, more power tools!

Frame's done. Time to paint. The missus had some very nice blue paint in the shed and there was plenty for the project so I....appropriated it. And hey! It's Rustoleum.

The fork. Please ignore that original yellow. The frame covers that up. I swear. I actually checked this time.

The frame. Does my ass really look like that? Maybe it's just the camera angle. Yeah, that's it.

All the parts together in one place. Can you feel the excitement? I was still certain I was going to be able to use those pedals. Without checking to be sure. Hey, everyone is wrong occasionally.
The wheels. I started out thinking I'd replace all the spokes. Yeah...not. Real budget buster. The funny bike guy said forget it. Just tighten them and let it go. So, new plan. Polish the rims and paint everything else.

This time I got some real help. Isn't she cute? Thanks sweetie!

Painted the hubs but still not looking too good. Gonna have to go further. Words to send a sane man screaming. Luckily, I'm not sane.
Taping off the rims. Are we having fun yet?
Ready for painting. Hubs, spokes, gears. I painted everything.

And hey! It's a wheel. Whadda ya think?
I'm going to post the final assembly and test ride later this week but here's a teaser.

The frame with the newly painted and tire shod wheels mounted.

Is it looking like an actual bike?

Will it work and ride?

Is this all just an exercise in humiliation?

Tune in next week for the final installment of Insane Crazy Welder Boy and find out.

More Frame And wheels

Ok, Insane Crazy Welder Boy here with more proof of my insanity. This is all Doohickie's fault. I swear.

The paint and sanding Faeries apparently decided to skip my house this week so I was forced to do the job myself.

First up, getting rid of the old paint on the frame. Tools? Wire wheel on the air grinder. Heh heh. I love power tools.

I decided on this versus sanding because of all that rust. Remember, this is a mild steel frame, not aluminum. The rust was mostly surface but needed a firm hand. You gotta let that rust know who's the boss or it'll walk all over you. Look, the crazy man is wearing eye protection again. Proving even crazy people have some sense.

It works very well though. Besides, it's all kinds of fun! See the cool work table? I made it out of a bar stool and a concrete paver. Yep, I'm that guy.

Of course there are some minor drawbacks to this method. See that wire? That's one of the wires from the wheel and it's embedded in my right forearm. I also got some in my face and all over my clothes. I looked like a metal porcupine. Propriety precluded taking a picture of the ones in my face. Besides, I couldn't figure out how to aim at my face without being able to see through the camera. I need to take up yoga apparently.

Here's a closer look at that repair, looking down on it from above. See? Rough but mostly straight. Mostly. It should be strong and that's all I care about so there.

All done with the paint removal and down to the bare frame. Have I mentioned I've never done this on a bicycle before? I have? It shows? Darn it.
I decided I needed to paint the bare frame, to get an idea where the problem areas were and to protect it from further rust. Yep, that's a can of OSH enamel. I had it on my shelf. It's cheap, sandable and covers well. This might be the final color. Unless I run out and have to find something else. I've gotta keep the costs down remember and that means using what I have wherever I can.

Really, I'm just cheap.

It needs a final sand, especially around the repaired area, but not too bad if I do say so myself and apparently I have to. Certainly no one sane person would.

The wheels were badly rusted. I thought I was going to have to replace them but the rust was all on the surface. I was able to power buff most of it off. I'll try the trick Doohickie gave me with lemon juice and aluminum foil for a final polish but I think they're definitely salvageable.

Hey, there's a wheel there! Now if only the hubs were going to be that easy. Sigh.

I didn't get to the worst, the rusty derailleur, crank set and the chain. I think all are history but remember that other frame I have? The one I hate? Yeah, it's got a good chain, derailleur and crank set. It's a single chain ring but beggars can't be choosers. Everything fits and I'm pretty sure the donor bike won't care.

Even if it does. Have I mentioned I hate that frame?