The Secret Ingredient

Sometime in 2005, I believe during the short interval between leaving Socorro and moving to Durham that August, Dad offered me his spare can of anti-sieze compound. The spark plugs in the ChevOldsmobuiac had rusted into the block during it's long Virginia hibernation and years of dusty New Mexico roads. I did not wish to repeat the extraction battle with the new plugs in a few years.

"One can will last you a lifetime!" he opined.

I turned his kind offer down on the basis of not wanting to haul a container filled with a nasty, sticky, hard to clean substance across states in the same space as my precious backpack, treasured powermac, and clean underwear.

I did, however, end up purchasing my own can in 2006, when my attempts to repair sticking brakes were severely hampered by the rear wheel being firmly stuck to the axle, requiring days of bust'rloose, hammering, and rough driving with loose lug nuts to overcome.

Chaos through endurance.


Since that time, my small jar silvery Teflon slime has become something of a religion for me, as I apply it to every metal-metal contact that does not serve some critical function (e.g. like brake pads...). Lug nuts, the back of rims, sheet-metal screws, sparkplugs, the list goes on. 21 year old cars in humid climates simply want to rust in two directions: together and apart. A small coating of the silver stuff does wonders to keep things in workable pieces.

I'm beginning to suspect it should be standard equipment.

This weekend I was rotating the tires on the ChevOldsmoBuiac, and I looked into the can anti-seize, and realized that dad was wrong. I realize now that he has been aging cars in the bright Colorado sun for far longer than he did on the east coast, where 300 days of sun and low relative humidity provide active denial to the chemistry of oxidation.

Given my battles, I will likely run out in another 5 years.

It's Still Not Your Camera

Linda McCarty's Photos from the 60's

Amazingly good work.

Surprisingly, there are still places that are not rusted, even a year later.

13 year old oil filter in a 21 year old car.

Interesting shadows and tortured metal.

Varicose veins.

Grilled cheese sandwich with a slab of meatloaf on it.

The dog nuzzles his snazzy new pad.

Big box of turtles

That's not an elephant.

This is what the flowers see.

Orange orange orange orange orange. Nothing rhymes with orange. Except orange, of course.

24 ga. Fuckup.

Three weeks and still no name...

...but we call it the motorpickle from time to time.

Big Light Box

One of the rooms in my brother's house is nearly empty, containing only a bed, two speakers, and few personal affects. It faces east, and the blinds are drawn closed.

It is a giant light box.

Chinese Fire Drill

Part of the morning ritual is the morning walk. Sometimes it's the morning drag.

It is on these ritual walks that humiliating things happen.

Today, the Dog nabbed a piece of grass, and instantly starting to choke on it. He braced against the leashed, hacked, gagged, then wretched.

A few pieces of soggy kibble splashed on the sidewalk.

He briefly sniffed, then ate the surprise treat.

Chinese fire drill.

Bike Chain Cleaning

I have been neglecting a lot of things I wish I weren't. I blame the dissertation, but it's likely more than that at work.

Among the things that had gone too long was the bikes drive chain. It needed a good cleaning. The crud kicked up from 18 miles a day during the summer in Dover for 2 years, and then 8 miles daily last year had mixed with constant re-applications of lube to produce an evil schmutz that seemed to get on everything.

"I get greasy just looking at your bike," she had said.

I finally picked up the sword, erm, can of brake cleaner and a tooth brush, and got to work. Working on bikes is far easier than cars. The parts are small and light, and everything you need fits into a small toolbox.

The crankset and cassette came clean pretty easily, but the chain was a real travesty. I soaked in goo-gone, wiped it clean, soaked it in a washtub with hot water and dishsoap, scrubed it with a toothbrush several times, changed the water and did it again. Then, in an act of desperation (everything it touched was still getting greasy!), I put it in the dishwasher.

I want to say that helped, but the white towels still had light grey smudges when I handled the chain. At least it was metal-white, and not black. I thought it was black-anodized before. Apparently not.

I had heard that high-teflon lubes were essentially permanent. I now have to agree.

I re-coated it with a light coating Pedros Extra Dry, gave everything a spin, then toweled off the drips. The drive train feels much lighter now. It's so nice, clean, and mechanical now. That should have been done along time ago.

I was stupid and pushed a crossbar completely out of the chain, then dinged the bar trying to shove it back in neccisitating the removal of a link. Other then that, the drivetrain is in surprisingly good condition. I have likely doubled (or more!) the milage since replacing the stock parts (circa 1995) with the current ones in 2006, and I would have expected concommitant wear. Perhaps the combination of riding on streets and better components has resulted in a longer life span.
 
Certainly, there are parts that are wearing. The sound of grit is audible in the bottom bracket. The rubber bearing cups are dry-rotting. The rear derailure in particular is suffering from my exuberant shifting. It's loose on its mounting, and both gears have considerable play. The tires are a little questionable, but they are not giving regular flats.

Let it roll, I say, let it roll.