Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

I got home this evening, and the glue was set up.  More or less.  I really wanted to get the top levitated across to where the boat is.  There is a whole caboodle of stuff to do to this little piece of the overall puzzle.  Like, shaping the bottoms of the beams, and paneling the underside.  And, making foundations for the arch-topped windows that will grace the supports, and a bazillion other things.  Can’t be burning daylight on this project.

I couldn’t get any help just then.  So, I asked myself, how heavy can it really be?

The answer, which should have been obvious:  REAL-DAMN-HEAVY.  And, it still must go up another 20 inches or so to get things fitted to hold it in place.  Tomorrow, I’ll rig the engine hoist.  Like I should have done before balancing the huge thing on my back and assembling the cobbledtogether rack it’s balanced on now.  But, we almost...

I don’t suppose they built the pyramids this way.  I read someplace that those guys had a union.  Better luck tomorrow.

After an overnight of head scratching, and personal misgivings; the biggest single piece of a soon-to-be pilot house took about two hours to get hoisted into position.  The supports will take some doing, and jostling.  But, this next step shouldn’t take all that much time (FLW?).  It certainly would have been easier to carve it out of foam and glass it over, surfboard style.  I just didn’t think I could get a constant camber over that big a surface, that way.  Oh well.  Maybe next time…

This is as far as I could get it single handed.  Somehow this top had to climb another two feet in altitude.  And, then stay put while I create “walls” under it.

Horray!  The cavalry has arrived…  It’s amazing what an extra pair of hands is worth, when there is a big, heavy thing swinging over your head, and it needs to be convinced to sit still within an eighth of an inch of “just right.”  An extra pair of hands that is more than willing to pick stuff up and hold it in the air too.  This cavalry troop showed up at the buttcrack of dawn on a Sunday, no less.  Thanks, Jim!

Yep.  That’s duct tape and a 4x6 timber making the engine hoist long enough to find the middle of the coach roof panel when it’s 8 feet off the floor.  The bolts actually carried the load.  DT is good.  But, not that good.

This contraption is beginning to resemble concrete forms for a freeway overpass someplace.  Time to start with the boat parts.

Both Bosun the attack poodle and I (both wearing matching gray shirts) should be able to stand up under this gonna-be lid.  Ok, break’s over.  Gotta’ go get some sawdust flying.

All of my measurements seem to be in that universal standard, the Err-So.  Especially, when it comes to time spent on the current boat project.  I think it’s been about a week.  Err-So. I’ve got to admit there are many better ways to do things.  Like, for example, taking months to plan, and years to build.  Now, there’s an interesting concept.  Anyhow.

I’ll admit to being a touch peckish about this tiger that has me firmly by the tail.  It’s not like just about everybody hasn’t tried to warn me.  Kim Apel the architectural genius, and fellow naviculus morbiddus sufferer, told me straight out.  He said “Beware the rule of squares.”  Sort of like that mournful voice insistently attempting to warn Caesar.  “…beware the Ides of March…”  He told me that everything would be twice as big, heavy, expensive, awkward, and just plain, HARDER.  Like, Julius before me, I should have paid more attention to the seer.  Instead, I said, “Sure.”  And, thought, “Yeahbutttt.  I’m only growing from a 14 foot hull to a 17 foot hull.  And.  I’ve already done this about twice before.  Shouldn’t be such a big deal.”  And, yes, Shenanigan the designed and built by eye ersatz tug went together in a couple-three weeks.  And, heck.  This time, all I was gonna’ do was pretty much the same stuff, only different.

You probably know somebody like that.

If I was still working for the government, I’d be getting paid to put verbal spin on stuff like this.  But, since becoming a full-fledged civilian, I’ve developed the odd habit of frankness.  And, like Mark Twain said, it does save you a lot of memory work.  So, the unvarnished truth is that Roughneck is going to take a lot longer than I expected.  I brashly estimated it at six weeks from tear-out to trailer.  Maybe more like six months.  But, I think that sort of thing happens to Real Boatbuilders too.  Doesn’t it?

I’ve got a framed-in pilot house, an almost-complete coach roof,  and trunk cabin pretty-much-in-place;  on top of a replaced sole and engine mount/bilge pan.  I’ve mocked up the exterior shell, and done some experimental “lines in space” to lay out where deck edges and curves need to land.  I’ve even stood behind the wheel and made imaginary motor sounds - when nobody was around.  This boat is gonna’ get built.  Sometime.

This is what things looked like about a week ago.

And, this is where we are right now.

Earlier, this morning.

Vrrroooommmmmm…  And, just about EVERYTHING yet to do.  Like, cut that dashboard out, and make a real helm station, for example.  And, yes.  This girl will have curves where a girl aughta’ have curves.  It’s just gonna’ take a little longer than I expected.   That’s all.

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