Post by baza on Nov 15, 2016 2:48:11 GMT -5
I am helping with some renovation work today.
I am wheeling barrow loads of dirt around. This load is particularly heavy.
There is what sounds like a gunshot, and the tyre is instantly flat.
Lesson #1. Don't buy cheap inner tubes.
Off to hardware store, get a solid front tyre and steel rim.
Home, take old plastic rim off and attempt to fit old axle to new tyre.
It is a pretty tight fit.
Spray it with WD40 to get it started and methodically start to tap it in.
Methodical tappinggives way to some vigorous belting.
Red mist descends.
I put tyre and axle on chopping block near wood pile and deal it a vigorous blow with the sledge hammer.
That appears to work so I apply great force with another couple of blows.
I discover that I have managed to drive the axle through the rim successfully, and also managed to drive the axle in to the chopping block and thus axle rim and tyre are all affixed firmly - actually tightly - to the chopping block.
And it ain't moving.
"You fucking sack of shit cunt of a thing" I announce loudly, impressing my neighbours greatly I should imagine, and dropping the house values by a fair bit. Dog slinks off and hides under the house.
-
I stomp inside, make a coffee and have a smoke.
Assorted "solutions" bang about in my brain. Some real doozys among them.
Once I have calmed down a bit I go out and have a look at the block and its' new attachment.
I figure that if I can get a pinch bar between rim and chopping block I may be able to lever it off.
"You'll probably bend the rim" sensible baz says in my head.
"Ah get fucked" says present baz and applies the pinch bar to the problem with a fair degree of violence.
After no more than about 32 minutes, the tyre is rotating on the axle but the axle is still adhering to the chopping block as if super glued.
Some vigorous sideways blows with the sledgey eventually loosen it somewhat.
And in no time at all, I get it all loose.
The rim is fucked.
Well done baz.
-
I recover the original plastic rim from the garbage bin and manage to put the new solid tyre on it. Not simple.
I put the wheel back on the barrow after concocting a new bracket to hold it firm.
About 3 hours have elapsed during this high comedy and I am due to start my shift at the charity shop I volunteer at.
-
After doing a couple of deliveries I am relieving on the counter.
This stupid old twat comes in looking for a refund (on a pair of $8 shoes if you don't mind) and the barcode reader won't read the receipt. There is a bit of a queue building up behind her, and the pressure is building.
I am, perhaps, not at my best as far as empathy levels at this time, and when this old twat decides to offer up her opinion about the level of service being exhibited, I am less than impressed and when she enquires whether I am interested in resolving her issue, I respond "not particularly", and serve the next customer. Anyway, I think it best to take a break before I give the old twat a backhander, and do so. (take a break that is)
-
The balance of the day goes ok. Until this well known party of 4 imbeciles comes in to the shop at about 10 to 5 (as they usually do) and then start fucking about looking at all manner of things they have no intent of buying. For all I know, they may be - indeed probably are - knocking stuff off out of the shop. I couldn't give a fuck if they are truth be told, as I am far more interested in getting the bastards out of the shop so we can shut.
They are impervious to being told "we're closing in 5 minutes" or suchlike warnings so I figure turning the lights off at 5 may provide the impetus for these cretins to figure out that it's closing time. I do and it works.
Cash count done, all is well.
Fire up bike out the back.
Head down pot hole lane.
Onto McNally St, give it a squirt. Home a couple of minutes later
4 big piles of dirt are out the back awaiting my (and my barrows) attention.
Fuck.
I survey the scene, go and get a beer.
-
Ms enna gets home as I am on about my third can.
We start talking about our respective days.
Soon enough, we are having a laugh about it all.
I am wheeling barrow loads of dirt around. This load is particularly heavy.
There is what sounds like a gunshot, and the tyre is instantly flat.
Lesson #1. Don't buy cheap inner tubes.
Off to hardware store, get a solid front tyre and steel rim.
Home, take old plastic rim off and attempt to fit old axle to new tyre.
It is a pretty tight fit.
Spray it with WD40 to get it started and methodically start to tap it in.
Methodical tappinggives way to some vigorous belting.
Red mist descends.
I put tyre and axle on chopping block near wood pile and deal it a vigorous blow with the sledge hammer.
That appears to work so I apply great force with another couple of blows.
I discover that I have managed to drive the axle through the rim successfully, and also managed to drive the axle in to the chopping block and thus axle rim and tyre are all affixed firmly - actually tightly - to the chopping block.
And it ain't moving.
"You fucking sack of shit cunt of a thing" I announce loudly, impressing my neighbours greatly I should imagine, and dropping the house values by a fair bit. Dog slinks off and hides under the house.
-
I stomp inside, make a coffee and have a smoke.
Assorted "solutions" bang about in my brain. Some real doozys among them.
Once I have calmed down a bit I go out and have a look at the block and its' new attachment.
I figure that if I can get a pinch bar between rim and chopping block I may be able to lever it off.
"You'll probably bend the rim" sensible baz says in my head.
"Ah get fucked" says present baz and applies the pinch bar to the problem with a fair degree of violence.
After no more than about 32 minutes, the tyre is rotating on the axle but the axle is still adhering to the chopping block as if super glued.
Some vigorous sideways blows with the sledgey eventually loosen it somewhat.
And in no time at all, I get it all loose.
The rim is fucked.
Well done baz.
-
I recover the original plastic rim from the garbage bin and manage to put the new solid tyre on it. Not simple.
I put the wheel back on the barrow after concocting a new bracket to hold it firm.
About 3 hours have elapsed during this high comedy and I am due to start my shift at the charity shop I volunteer at.
-
After doing a couple of deliveries I am relieving on the counter.
This stupid old twat comes in looking for a refund (on a pair of $8 shoes if you don't mind) and the barcode reader won't read the receipt. There is a bit of a queue building up behind her, and the pressure is building.
I am, perhaps, not at my best as far as empathy levels at this time, and when this old twat decides to offer up her opinion about the level of service being exhibited, I am less than impressed and when she enquires whether I am interested in resolving her issue, I respond "not particularly", and serve the next customer. Anyway, I think it best to take a break before I give the old twat a backhander, and do so. (take a break that is)
-
The balance of the day goes ok. Until this well known party of 4 imbeciles comes in to the shop at about 10 to 5 (as they usually do) and then start fucking about looking at all manner of things they have no intent of buying. For all I know, they may be - indeed probably are - knocking stuff off out of the shop. I couldn't give a fuck if they are truth be told, as I am far more interested in getting the bastards out of the shop so we can shut.
They are impervious to being told "we're closing in 5 minutes" or suchlike warnings so I figure turning the lights off at 5 may provide the impetus for these cretins to figure out that it's closing time. I do and it works.
Cash count done, all is well.
Fire up bike out the back.
Head down pot hole lane.
Onto McNally St, give it a squirt. Home a couple of minutes later
4 big piles of dirt are out the back awaiting my (and my barrows) attention.
Fuck.
I survey the scene, go and get a beer.
-
Ms enna gets home as I am on about my third can.
We start talking about our respective days.
Soon enough, we are having a laugh about it all.
