Do you know how hard it is to try to go back in time and write a story of your youth? When half your brain cells have taken an "old age" break, the other half don't even remember what day it is? When the day comes that only 25% of my brain cells are still awake, I can look back at this blog and recall what I had long forgotten.
I had to delete a couple comments last night. Not because they questioned the accuracy of my accounts, but due to the use of offensive language. This person questioned the time it took to change the starter on "that jeep" where I had said it took 17 minutes to perform. He's not from Texas, so he doesn't know that Texans live by the old code of the west...."never lie to yer momma"....or to a stranger, to a lover or to the government. I take pride in what I have to say....an' it ain't nuttin but the truth. Ya see, it's like this. Since I had done took that starter off "that jeep" a couple week ago, I knowed exactly what tools I gonna need and the sequence of removal. The necessary tools was in a little plastic container, so there was no need to crawl up under there to figger out what tools and sizes was necessary. They was right there beside me along with the brand spank'n new starter. Before I climbed under there, I says...."how long this gonna take Billy Bob"? So's I timed myself. Yup....17 minutes exactly. Give or take a few seconds. "Damn Billy Bob, couldn't ya said all that in less words"?
Now we come to the length of my silly stories. Since I like to write bout "The Adventures of Billy Bob", I like to be as accurate and precise as possible, sometime use'n words I never hear of before. As for be'n a "wild one", I don't think of myself as such.....MsB. Just a normal, half redneck all American boy.
I found many years ago that 2 liner accounts of a story is not only B O R I N G, but leaves the reader lost in the story. Ya got to have some spice. Details. A little humor. Yup, that what the old Billy Bob like....a little humor an' lot's of details.
Today there will be no story. Not 'cause I ain't got none to tell, but ain't got enough brain cells awake yet to recall the events of my life what might be considered interesting read'n.
Well, maybe just one little short one. Ya see, Billy Bob liked to go fish'n. Me and Gerry took off up to the lake in the old '51 Studebaker. We was gonna catch us up some them native trout in the creeks an' streams. We was traips'n through the weeds an' such and I comes up on....yes, a pissed off rattlesnake. Scare hell out me I betcha....that what he did. After I gets over all the scream'n an' back peddl'n, I nodges him with my fish pole to get him to calmly leave the scene. Damn, he done bite my fish pole. I'll just kick him out the way, that what I'll do....then go on down to the stream and catch me up some fish. Nope, he reach out to bite me right on the end my foot. Clamp his fangs down on the toe of my combat/hike'n boot he did. Now I gots a rattlesnake stuck to the end my boot. My toes was all wad up into a little fist inside that boot so there no way I gonna die from no snake bite. So here I am, danc'n round with a snake hang'n on for dear life to the end my boot , a fish'n pole in my hand and there ol' Gerry over there laugh his ass off. So's I swak that snake with my fish pole....Bam, swak him a good 'un. I all shook up ya know. Bout a hunnert time I swak that snake with my fish pole, what is now all broke to hell an' gone. By this time that snake is come loose from my boot an' strik'n at anything what moved. Since I'm all ready danc'n round like a fool, I stomps that poor snake to death. As much as I hate to kill a snake, this one I felt I had no other choice at the time. Plus he scare the hell out me. God rest his soul.
Yup....wind is blow'n up a gale again today. Camp chairs blowed all over the yard. Ain't gonna be much done outside that for sure.
Did I ever tell ya bout the time......
?
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Foot in pocket.....stupit stuff
Ok......where to start? I rekon the first thing to do would be to crawl through all the mud, dirt an' grime up under "that jeep" and change the starter. Although it's still working after yesterdays episode of almost stranding me at the lake. It's not know'n how hard to "wack" a starter, but know'n where to "wack" it. It' not a hard job to change the starter, but it sure is a dirty one. I suppose this mean old Billy Bob is gonna have to take another shower this week.
Have ya ever turn the tv off, turn the cell phone off, grab a cup of coffee an' go outside, find a nice quiet secluded spot to sit and ponder? Just let your mind wander anywheres it want to go? That what I do quite often.
I were do'n that last night an' I got to think'n bout how people are different. What they done with their lives. How they progressed into what they are today. How old Billy Bob got to where he is today, and still be alive could be on the best seller list for "The Idiots Guide to Survival". I ain't talk'n bout liv'n out in the woods and surviv'n the elements an' stuff like that. I'm talk'n bout still being alive with all the "stupit" things I done in my lifetime. "Hey watch this". "I'm gonna turn this old car over". "Git out the way...move....git out my way, I'm com'n through". "Holy shit, I'm fall'n out this tree". I fell lots of times under different circumstances, so I know what I'm talk'n bout when I say "Holy Shiiiit". Yes Billy Bob, you did some stupit stuff.
"Git the damn dog back in the boat". Ya see, we loaded up the dog in the boat and head off across the lake. Well, the dog didn't want in the boat, no way, shape or form. So we headed in close to shore an' push him out....think'n he would go lay up under the truck. What he didn't. He followed us, legs a flap'n, till he was wored slap out....gonna drown I betcha. Now we gotta get this damn hunnert pounds dog back it the boat an' he don't want back in the boat. I gets out the boat to hoist him up, but the damn dog sticks his hind foot in my pocket....now we are one together. I sinks. Dog sinks. Foot still in pocket. So Gerry jump in the water. Now we have 3 people in the water and the damn boat is drift'n away. By this time, we have drawed a crowd of onlookers....all cheer'n us on.....while I'm still try'n to get that damn dogs foot out my pocket. Needless to say, I survived, Gerry survived and that hunnert pounds dog survived.
Did I ever tell ya bout the time....it were back in bout 1958....I went camp'n. Sleep on the ground an' stuff. Here come this big ol' rattlesnake crawl'n cross ground into my camp....like he gonna make camp with Billy Bob. I don't think so, not on your life. So's I takes this stick an' start pok'n it at him, teas'n an stuff like that. I ain't skeered no snakes ya know. This just piss him off. He coil up gingl'n his rattles and hiss's stuff at me. Well, I ain't gonna have none that, so's I starts hiss'n right back at him. Can you believe he try to bite me a few times? I keep pok'n at him till he finally have enough and he was head for the bushes. Nope, you ain't get'n off that easy....I reaches down an grab his tail and fling him right back in camp. Well yeah I let loose his tail....I ain't that stupit ya know. This went on for bout five minute and that ol' snake just flat give up....lay there on the ground like he was dead or something. Play'n possum that what he was do'n. I turn to walk away an' take one last look. That rattlesnake was gone....poooof, just like that. No snakes were harmed or injured in the writing of this story.
Remember all them chores I was talk'n bout yesterday? Well, I didn't make it past that comfortable couch. Who would have ever figgered that?
Ok....got things to do.....replace a starter ya know.
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Well, that didn't take long. How bout 17 minutes flat to pull and replace a starter?
Portions removed by author....
Now that I got all that done an' did, the wind blow'n up a gale, "what ya gonna do now Billy Bob"?
Have ya ever turn the tv off, turn the cell phone off, grab a cup of coffee an' go outside, find a nice quiet secluded spot to sit and ponder? Just let your mind wander anywheres it want to go? That what I do quite often.
I were do'n that last night an' I got to think'n bout how people are different. What they done with their lives. How they progressed into what they are today. How old Billy Bob got to where he is today, and still be alive could be on the best seller list for "The Idiots Guide to Survival". I ain't talk'n bout liv'n out in the woods and surviv'n the elements an' stuff like that. I'm talk'n bout still being alive with all the "stupit" things I done in my lifetime. "Hey watch this". "I'm gonna turn this old car over". "Git out the way...move....git out my way, I'm com'n through". "Holy shit, I'm fall'n out this tree". I fell lots of times under different circumstances, so I know what I'm talk'n bout when I say "Holy Shiiiit". Yes Billy Bob, you did some stupit stuff.
"Git the damn dog back in the boat". Ya see, we loaded up the dog in the boat and head off across the lake. Well, the dog didn't want in the boat, no way, shape or form. So we headed in close to shore an' push him out....think'n he would go lay up under the truck. What he didn't. He followed us, legs a flap'n, till he was wored slap out....gonna drown I betcha. Now we gotta get this damn hunnert pounds dog back it the boat an' he don't want back in the boat. I gets out the boat to hoist him up, but the damn dog sticks his hind foot in my pocket....now we are one together. I sinks. Dog sinks. Foot still in pocket. So Gerry jump in the water. Now we have 3 people in the water and the damn boat is drift'n away. By this time, we have drawed a crowd of onlookers....all cheer'n us on.....while I'm still try'n to get that damn dogs foot out my pocket. Needless to say, I survived, Gerry survived and that hunnert pounds dog survived.
Did I ever tell ya bout the time....it were back in bout 1958....I went camp'n. Sleep on the ground an' stuff. Here come this big ol' rattlesnake crawl'n cross ground into my camp....like he gonna make camp with Billy Bob. I don't think so, not on your life. So's I takes this stick an' start pok'n it at him, teas'n an stuff like that. I ain't skeered no snakes ya know. This just piss him off. He coil up gingl'n his rattles and hiss's stuff at me. Well, I ain't gonna have none that, so's I starts hiss'n right back at him. Can you believe he try to bite me a few times? I keep pok'n at him till he finally have enough and he was head for the bushes. Nope, you ain't get'n off that easy....I reaches down an grab his tail and fling him right back in camp. Well yeah I let loose his tail....I ain't that stupit ya know. This went on for bout five minute and that ol' snake just flat give up....lay there on the ground like he was dead or something. Play'n possum that what he was do'n. I turn to walk away an' take one last look. That rattlesnake was gone....poooof, just like that. No snakes were harmed or injured in the writing of this story.
Remember all them chores I was talk'n bout yesterday? Well, I didn't make it past that comfortable couch. Who would have ever figgered that?
Ok....got things to do.....replace a starter ya know.
********************************************************************
Well, that didn't take long. How bout 17 minutes flat to pull and replace a starter?
Portions removed by author....
Now that I got all that done an' did, the wind blow'n up a gale, "what ya gonna do now Billy Bob"?
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Snake bit....
Old Billy Bob has stepped in many traps in his day, but he has also set many traps of his own. Yesterdays post was one such trap....and I catched up a weasel.
On with the day. You guessed it, there ain't no wind blow'n again this morn'n. Just like yesterday morn'n. Mother Nature is trying my patience by start'n off with a perfect day and bout the time I get all fire up to head off to the lake, she throws a monkey wrench in my fire. Ok....look'n at this weeks weather forecast, I can expect 18 mile a hour wind "again" this afternoon and the same for the next 4 or 5 days. And then.....a week of beautiful weather with winds in the single digits. I can live with that. But what to do in the mean time?
It's been suggested that I "give up and move to a retirement home". Well, I gave that much thought and the idea gives me shiver bumps all over. As long as I can still swak a golf ball 200 yards, cast a fish'n plug in a 5 gallon bucket bout a hunnert feets away, have the energy to blow up a "bubba boat" (not often), and git out of bed every morn'n with a whole new outlook on life, I think I will just continue to traipse around the country "do'n my thang". Sure I have a few health issues that weren't there before. And a few problems what come my way ever now an' then, but not to the point that I would give up.
Ok.....here's the plan. Since the wind ain't blow'n yet....although the fish ain't been bit'n in the morn'ns.....I'm off to the lake. Me an' Sadie Mae.
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Is all I can manage to do is make silly mistakes? Ya see, I was at the local fish'n hole right at bout 8:30. The wind was blow'n over there, but it weren't blow'n at "da house". I had done figgered I would have time to blow up the "bubba boat" an' go out on the lake, but was too late....wind blow'n a hunnert mile a hour. So's I break out the waders an' walks out there where them bass fish live. I casted an' casted up under bushes, out in the open seas....I casted everwheres. Nobody was home. Probably out in the middle of the lake grocery shopp'n or hav'n a birthday party for one their fish puppys. That what ya call a young fish what ain't learn to walk yet.
But I ain't done yet. I was sit'n in "that jeep" an' decides it was time I gonna go home. Turns the key an' "click" or plunk, or what ever ya wanna call it. "I tole ya Billy Bob to change the starter last week". I were get'n all prepared for crawl'n up under that thing and yank'n that starter clean out, throw it out in the lake an' put the new one in. But 'fore I do that....knock the hell out it with a hammer. What I did. Sparks fly ever which way every time I swak it. Get back in an' turn the key....start right up....I'm good to go. See....I can fix stuff.
Rekon I gonna do some house clean'n now.....maybe. Dishes, vacuum, take the trash out, wash some winders....stuff like that. But that depends on if'n I can stay clear that comfortable couch over there. You know what I'm talk'n bout....nap time.
On with the day. You guessed it, there ain't no wind blow'n again this morn'n. Just like yesterday morn'n. Mother Nature is trying my patience by start'n off with a perfect day and bout the time I get all fire up to head off to the lake, she throws a monkey wrench in my fire. Ok....look'n at this weeks weather forecast, I can expect 18 mile a hour wind "again" this afternoon and the same for the next 4 or 5 days. And then.....a week of beautiful weather with winds in the single digits. I can live with that. But what to do in the mean time?
It's been suggested that I "give up and move to a retirement home". Well, I gave that much thought and the idea gives me shiver bumps all over. As long as I can still swak a golf ball 200 yards, cast a fish'n plug in a 5 gallon bucket bout a hunnert feets away, have the energy to blow up a "bubba boat" (not often), and git out of bed every morn'n with a whole new outlook on life, I think I will just continue to traipse around the country "do'n my thang". Sure I have a few health issues that weren't there before. And a few problems what come my way ever now an' then, but not to the point that I would give up.
Ok.....here's the plan. Since the wind ain't blow'n yet....although the fish ain't been bit'n in the morn'ns.....I'm off to the lake. Me an' Sadie Mae.
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What the hell is this? Good eat'n?
11:45.....or there 'bouts Is all I can manage to do is make silly mistakes? Ya see, I was at the local fish'n hole right at bout 8:30. The wind was blow'n over there, but it weren't blow'n at "da house". I had done figgered I would have time to blow up the "bubba boat" an' go out on the lake, but was too late....wind blow'n a hunnert mile a hour. So's I break out the waders an' walks out there where them bass fish live. I casted an' casted up under bushes, out in the open seas....I casted everwheres. Nobody was home. Probably out in the middle of the lake grocery shopp'n or hav'n a birthday party for one their fish puppys. That what ya call a young fish what ain't learn to walk yet.
But I ain't done yet. I was sit'n in "that jeep" an' decides it was time I gonna go home. Turns the key an' "click" or plunk, or what ever ya wanna call it. "I tole ya Billy Bob to change the starter last week". I were get'n all prepared for crawl'n up under that thing and yank'n that starter clean out, throw it out in the lake an' put the new one in. But 'fore I do that....knock the hell out it with a hammer. What I did. Sparks fly ever which way every time I swak it. Get back in an' turn the key....start right up....I'm good to go. See....I can fix stuff.
Rekon I gonna do some house clean'n now.....maybe. Dishes, vacuum, take the trash out, wash some winders....stuff like that. But that depends on if'n I can stay clear that comfortable couch over there. You know what I'm talk'n bout....nap time.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Short post....
The wheels of time goes on and the grinding of bones continues. Yeah I think that pretty much describes ach'n bones an' sore muscles. That's the way I see it anyhows. Everybody scream'n "ya gotta get exercise....walk, walk, walk". Well, if'n I can be this sore from just sit'n on my ass "do'n nuttin", can you imagine how I would feel if'n I was to take a walk? Damn, forget that.
Ok, what the deal with get'n up a hour before you can see outside. What can ya see in the dark? Nutt'n, that's what. But I did it anyhows. Now that I have screwed up my entire day by get'n up too early, I have to reschedule everything I had planned for the day. What weren't very much to start with. Nuttin excit'n anyhows.
Ok, I have two problems what need some 'splain'n this morn'n. I ain't got the answers. How the hell do you determine if a AGM battery is good or not? Ok, somebody is gonna say to break out a hydrometer. Well no....that won't work. This battery is completely sealed....turn it upside down if'n ya want to. Ya see, when Bro in law give me this battery, he say it brand spank'n new....just need a charge. Well, the damn thing won't take a charge. Why???
The other thing is the "tow in" on "that jeep". Yeah, I'm still work'n on "that jeep" Ya see, when I goes down the road, "that jeep" go anywhere it want to go, not where I'm aim'n at. An' then if'n I happen to hit a "chug hole" or maybe a concrete block, the front end get all nervous an' start jump'n back an' forth....some call that shimmy. I call it "scare the hell out me". Now before y'all make a determination on what wrong, ya got remember I removed the rear sway bar 'cause it were in the way of the "long arm" suspension some fool had installed. Note to readers.....two alignment shops flat refused to attempt to align the front end. Not long ago I removed the 4 inches lift kit, and adjusted the tow in....go down the road straight like a arrow. Yesterday I break out my trusty tape measure and "what the hell", got 1/2 inches tow in. That ain't right. How that happen? This is "that jeep" from hell, so maybe these little things is expected. "Break out the tools Billy Bob".
Remember yesterday morn'n I was tell'n ya there weren't no wind? Well, there weren't any till I load up "that jeep" with all the necessary items to go to the lake to blow up an' launch the "bubba boat". Then it start blow'n a gale....big ol' waves an' stuff....scare hell out them fish. Well, this morn'n there ain't no wind.
I promised myself that todays post would be a short one. So......that's all folks. Maybe.....
Ok, what the deal with get'n up a hour before you can see outside. What can ya see in the dark? Nutt'n, that's what. But I did it anyhows. Now that I have screwed up my entire day by get'n up too early, I have to reschedule everything I had planned for the day. What weren't very much to start with. Nuttin excit'n anyhows.
Ok, I have two problems what need some 'splain'n this morn'n. I ain't got the answers. How the hell do you determine if a AGM battery is good or not? Ok, somebody is gonna say to break out a hydrometer. Well no....that won't work. This battery is completely sealed....turn it upside down if'n ya want to. Ya see, when Bro in law give me this battery, he say it brand spank'n new....just need a charge. Well, the damn thing won't take a charge. Why???
The other thing is the "tow in" on "that jeep". Yeah, I'm still work'n on "that jeep" Ya see, when I goes down the road, "that jeep" go anywhere it want to go, not where I'm aim'n at. An' then if'n I happen to hit a "chug hole" or maybe a concrete block, the front end get all nervous an' start jump'n back an' forth....some call that shimmy. I call it "scare the hell out me". Now before y'all make a determination on what wrong, ya got remember I removed the rear sway bar 'cause it were in the way of the "long arm" suspension some fool had installed. Note to readers.....two alignment shops flat refused to attempt to align the front end. Not long ago I removed the 4 inches lift kit, and adjusted the tow in....go down the road straight like a arrow. Yesterday I break out my trusty tape measure and "what the hell", got 1/2 inches tow in. That ain't right. How that happen? This is "that jeep" from hell, so maybe these little things is expected. "Break out the tools Billy Bob".
Remember yesterday morn'n I was tell'n ya there weren't no wind? Well, there weren't any till I load up "that jeep" with all the necessary items to go to the lake to blow up an' launch the "bubba boat". Then it start blow'n a gale....big ol' waves an' stuff....scare hell out them fish. Well, this morn'n there ain't no wind.
I promised myself that todays post would be a short one. So......that's all folks. Maybe.....
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Blast from the past....
Sometimes somebody will mention either a place or a name an'n old Billy Bob goe into "think'n" mode.....'member stuff from the past. Well that what happen last night, right here on Billy Bob's Place. Riverhauler made a comment bout me swin'n and Lake Isabella. He also disputed that a Corvair engine can run 8,000 rpm's. But that ain't the subject for right now.
I know that somewheres in my blogs I had mentioned that I lived on Lake Isabella, worked at Lake Isabelle and played in the water at Lake Isabella. I were but a mere teenager back in them days.....late 50's. Bought me up a little speed boat called "'Lil'Flip". 12 foots hydroplane with a 40 hp, slightly modified Mercury outboard on it. Go a hunnert mile a hour if'n I want to. In the 50's, we modified everything what had to do with a motor. Factory weren't good enough....had to put the "backyard" touch to it.
Lake Isabella is where I learn how to water ski. Girls like that kind of stuff ya know. And no, I had still not learned how to swim. Why I didn't float I don't know. I just sinked.....poooof, just like that. My first attempt to go scoot'n across the water on a set of skis was only to be dragged to the bottom....weeds an' stuff down there, big ol' rocks. Didn't take me long after spit'n sand an' weeds out my mouth that I figger out to let go the rope. I learn to ski that day, although embarrassed by the continual laughter and hee haws. 'Specially from the girls I were try'n to impress. "Yee Haa, here comes Billy Bob, go'n a hunnert mile a hour....he gonna crash". Never did learn how to ski on one ski. Every time I try to drop one ski and cruise past them cute girls on the beach, I were sink'n again. Busted a ear drum do'n that stuff an' ain't been on skis since. That why I says "huh" a lot.
It was in the Navy when I finally learn how to swim. No not in basic training. It were out there where it was either swim or drown. A little island in the Mediterranean Sea called Malta. Me and my buddy took off walk'n....he says, "lets go to the other side the cove". I can't swim I tell him. "I'll help ya". Yeah right he'll help me. Left me out there in the middle that cove....that what he did. An' I sinked, that what I did. Then I sinked again....all the while arms flap'n, me scream'n obsinities....."git me out of here". Finally make it to shore wored slap out, gonna beat buddy's ass.....soon I rest up a bit an' git this water out my lungs.
First thing I do when I was climb out the water, I step on a freak'n sea urchin sit'n there in the rocks....one them little spiny sea creatures. Took a week to dig them spines out my foot. But I can swim now.
Went off to the lake yesterday....gonna catch me up a 14 pounds bass. I didn't catch up nuttin. Was windy again so no "bubba boat" in the water. Today there ain't no wind....yet. And there also ain't no sunshine.
Ok, back to the little Corvair engine and 8,000 rpm's. I don't care what engine you got, modified or not, but when you open that throttle wide open, ain't got no load on it, that sucker gonna turn 8,000 rpm's rather you like it or not. Most times it gonna blow slap to pieces before you shut 'er down. The only case of not achieving this high rate of revolutions is call "valve float". This is when the exhaust and intake valves remain in the open position, no longer creating suction of fuel and air through the wide open carburetor. If'n ya ain't never experienced floating valves, ya ain't never experienced liv'n on the edge. It will scare ya....sound like a hunnert Singer sew machines on steroids. The Corvair issue is now closed.
I know that somewheres in my blogs I had mentioned that I lived on Lake Isabella, worked at Lake Isabelle and played in the water at Lake Isabella. I were but a mere teenager back in them days.....late 50's. Bought me up a little speed boat called "'Lil'Flip". 12 foots hydroplane with a 40 hp, slightly modified Mercury outboard on it. Go a hunnert mile a hour if'n I want to. In the 50's, we modified everything what had to do with a motor. Factory weren't good enough....had to put the "backyard" touch to it.
Lake Isabella is where I learn how to water ski. Girls like that kind of stuff ya know. And no, I had still not learned how to swim. Why I didn't float I don't know. I just sinked.....poooof, just like that. My first attempt to go scoot'n across the water on a set of skis was only to be dragged to the bottom....weeds an' stuff down there, big ol' rocks. Didn't take me long after spit'n sand an' weeds out my mouth that I figger out to let go the rope. I learn to ski that day, although embarrassed by the continual laughter and hee haws. 'Specially from the girls I were try'n to impress. "Yee Haa, here comes Billy Bob, go'n a hunnert mile a hour....he gonna crash". Never did learn how to ski on one ski. Every time I try to drop one ski and cruise past them cute girls on the beach, I were sink'n again. Busted a ear drum do'n that stuff an' ain't been on skis since. That why I says "huh" a lot.
It was in the Navy when I finally learn how to swim. No not in basic training. It were out there where it was either swim or drown. A little island in the Mediterranean Sea called Malta. Me and my buddy took off walk'n....he says, "lets go to the other side the cove". I can't swim I tell him. "I'll help ya". Yeah right he'll help me. Left me out there in the middle that cove....that what he did. An' I sinked, that what I did. Then I sinked again....all the while arms flap'n, me scream'n obsinities....."git me out of here". Finally make it to shore wored slap out, gonna beat buddy's ass.....soon I rest up a bit an' git this water out my lungs.
First thing I do when I was climb out the water, I step on a freak'n sea urchin sit'n there in the rocks....one them little spiny sea creatures. Took a week to dig them spines out my foot. But I can swim now.
Went off to the lake yesterday....gonna catch me up a 14 pounds bass. I didn't catch up nuttin. Was windy again so no "bubba boat" in the water. Today there ain't no wind....yet. And there also ain't no sunshine.
Ok, back to the little Corvair engine and 8,000 rpm's. I don't care what engine you got, modified or not, but when you open that throttle wide open, ain't got no load on it, that sucker gonna turn 8,000 rpm's rather you like it or not. Most times it gonna blow slap to pieces before you shut 'er down. The only case of not achieving this high rate of revolutions is call "valve float". This is when the exhaust and intake valves remain in the open position, no longer creating suction of fuel and air through the wide open carburetor. If'n ya ain't never experienced floating valves, ya ain't never experienced liv'n on the edge. It will scare ya....sound like a hunnert Singer sew machines on steroids. The Corvair issue is now closed.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Fish on.....
Well here it is another one them yukky look'n days. Nothing like yesterday where the sun come out and warm things up. In fact it got so warm I had to take my long sleeve off before noon.
Ha.....some folks think they know all bout motors an car stuff. But they don't. Rookies, that what I says. Ya see, when Corvair come out with their little flat 6 opposing cylinders air cooled engine, it weren't intended to be no rac'n engine. But low an' behold, some backyard rec'n enthusiast clowns start tinker'n an' modified them to produce humongous horsepower and torque, turn way up in the 250 hp range an' 8,000 rpm ....and not blow to smithereens as some may think. When ya got a Corvair Spider with a supercharged engine sit'n there out in the yard, what ya knocked all the winders out of with a ball peen hammer, ya got to do something with the still perfectly good motor. Ya put it in a 24 foots boat....that what ya do with it. Sucker go a hunnert mile a hour. So yes, a Corvair engine will turn 8,000 rpm rather ya like it or not. But it scare the hell out ya when it do.
Load up "that jeep", me an' Sadie Mae and head off to the lake yesterday right bout 1 a clock. Damn, the road is under water where I were park'n a week or so ago.
Lake is com'n up maybe a foot a week from the way I figgers it. I were sit'n there watch this boat over there by them old bush stickups an' damn, they catch'n fish. Thought real serious bout put'n "bubba boat" in the water, but the wind was com'n up....again.
While I were sit'n there, these two fellers wade out there an' on the first cast I holler at 'em...."not there....over there by the bushes". On the second cast I just shakes my head. He done cast the same place. He don't no nuttin bout fish'n.
BAAZAAAAMMM, just like that, he catch up this big ol' fish. Who would'a thought there was a fish where he was cast'n? Bout 6 or 7 pound I would say. But then, a fisherguy like me always see the fish bigger than what it really is. Then he kilt it.
Maybe I do that today if'n the sun decide to come out. I got them brand spank'n new waders what come all the way up to my neck, so I ain't gonna get all wet an' catch me up some kind of deathly peemoania or something like that. Damn....I git'n all excitis.
Flat chunk that beef stew soup out in the tall grass this morn'n. Done ate up all that stuff I could handle. Maybe the critters will appreciate it more than I did. Note to self.....'don't make a hunnert gallon next time'. Sheesh, ain't nobody can eat that much soup.
Ok...I got things to do....laters
Ha.....some folks think they know all bout motors an car stuff. But they don't. Rookies, that what I says. Ya see, when Corvair come out with their little flat 6 opposing cylinders air cooled engine, it weren't intended to be no rac'n engine. But low an' behold, some backyard rec'n enthusiast clowns start tinker'n an' modified them to produce humongous horsepower and torque, turn way up in the 250 hp range an' 8,000 rpm ....and not blow to smithereens as some may think. When ya got a Corvair Spider with a supercharged engine sit'n there out in the yard, what ya knocked all the winders out of with a ball peen hammer, ya got to do something with the still perfectly good motor. Ya put it in a 24 foots boat....that what ya do with it. Sucker go a hunnert mile a hour. So yes, a Corvair engine will turn 8,000 rpm rather ya like it or not. But it scare the hell out ya when it do.
Load up "that jeep", me an' Sadie Mae and head off to the lake yesterday right bout 1 a clock. Damn, the road is under water where I were park'n a week or so ago.
While I were sit'n there, these two fellers wade out there an' on the first cast I holler at 'em...."not there....over there by the bushes". On the second cast I just shakes my head. He done cast the same place. He don't no nuttin bout fish'n.
BAAZAAAAMMM, just like that, he catch up this big ol' fish. Who would'a thought there was a fish where he was cast'n? Bout 6 or 7 pound I would say. But then, a fisherguy like me always see the fish bigger than what it really is. Then he kilt it.
Flat chunk that beef stew soup out in the tall grass this morn'n. Done ate up all that stuff I could handle. Maybe the critters will appreciate it more than I did. Note to self.....'don't make a hunnert gallon next time'. Sheesh, ain't nobody can eat that much soup.
Ok...I got things to do....laters
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Up on the roof....
Ya see, it was like this. The other day when the wind was blow'n a hunnert mile a hour, the crank up vent in the kitchen flew wide open.....poooof, just like that. And it stayed open 'cause there ain't no way I gonna be climb'n on the roof in no hunnert mile a hour wind. So I just left it that way. Well, last night I was lay'n there in bed an' I hears some explosions. Since it was Saturday night, I just figgered there was a party across the border in Mexico. Well it weren't. It were lightning an' thunder. I says to myself...."da kitchen floor gonna get all wet". Yup, you guessed it, old Billy Bob was on top of "da house" at 1 oclock with a piece of bail'n wire. See I tole you, old Billy Bob can fix anything. Duct tape, WD-40 and bail'n wire....fix anything what moves and anything what ain't supposed to move.
I already tole ya bout the boat I put a Corvair engine in it, but did I ever tell ya bout driv'n nails in the clutch to get back to the dock? Ya see, behind that Corvair engine was a 4 speed truck transmission an' behind that was a shaft and propeller. Ya might say kind of "redneck" rigged. Then ya might ask why I had nails in da boat. Well, ya never know when ya gonna need a nail. Anyhows, we was out on "sea trials" Just mak'n sure everything was tip top shape. That when the clutch start slip'n.....shaft and propeller quit turn'n while the engin is scream'n 8,000 rpm's. An' we 2 mile from land....out in the gulf. No food. No water. No life jackets. No nuttin but a hand full of nails and a hammer. With the type of "redneck" installation of the motor and transmission, the clutch was exposed. Well shoot, drive some nails in the clutch. That what we did and in no time flat we was crash'n into the dock. Ya I did....crash slap into the dock.....broke stuff.
Today may be the last day of the blizzard what blowed through south Texas a few days ago. I got me a bad case of "git out the house" from all this sit'n round all cramp up like this. Might just run over to the lake an look around. Still too cold to attempt to launch the "bubba boat". Probably chicken out anyhows. Ya see, the older ya get, the more ya worry bout ya gonna drown. Weren't like that when I were younger. I see that swim pool, take off in a dead run and jump slap in it. Oh crap, I can't swim. Almost drown my ass out there slap'n my arms an' legs like a fool. "Call the Coast Guard.....anybody. Git me out here".
Was think'n bout go'n up the road a piece, but figgered I'm better off right where I am till this crazy weather decides what it gonna do. Ain't got no where in particular to go and ain't in no hurry to get there. That one the things I like bout be'n retired and liv' in a "shak on wheels". Just go when ya get the urge to go an' don't never look back.
Ok....I got things to do.....laters.
I already tole ya bout the boat I put a Corvair engine in it, but did I ever tell ya bout driv'n nails in the clutch to get back to the dock? Ya see, behind that Corvair engine was a 4 speed truck transmission an' behind that was a shaft and propeller. Ya might say kind of "redneck" rigged. Then ya might ask why I had nails in da boat. Well, ya never know when ya gonna need a nail. Anyhows, we was out on "sea trials" Just mak'n sure everything was tip top shape. That when the clutch start slip'n.....shaft and propeller quit turn'n while the engin is scream'n 8,000 rpm's. An' we 2 mile from land....out in the gulf. No food. No water. No life jackets. No nuttin but a hand full of nails and a hammer. With the type of "redneck" installation of the motor and transmission, the clutch was exposed. Well shoot, drive some nails in the clutch. That what we did and in no time flat we was crash'n into the dock. Ya I did....crash slap into the dock.....broke stuff.
Today may be the last day of the blizzard what blowed through south Texas a few days ago. I got me a bad case of "git out the house" from all this sit'n round all cramp up like this. Might just run over to the lake an look around. Still too cold to attempt to launch the "bubba boat". Probably chicken out anyhows. Ya see, the older ya get, the more ya worry bout ya gonna drown. Weren't like that when I were younger. I see that swim pool, take off in a dead run and jump slap in it. Oh crap, I can't swim. Almost drown my ass out there slap'n my arms an' legs like a fool. "Call the Coast Guard.....anybody. Git me out here".
Was think'n bout go'n up the road a piece, but figgered I'm better off right where I am till this crazy weather decides what it gonna do. Ain't got no where in particular to go and ain't in no hurry to get there. That one the things I like bout be'n retired and liv' in a "shak on wheels". Just go when ya get the urge to go an' don't never look back.
Ok....I got things to do.....laters.
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