Ever since I got completely outa’ control and cleaned up my shop, and repainted the floor; I’ve been thinking about getting a new logo and stationary made up to go with all the fanciness.  Well, I have managed to get a respectable amount of crap thrown around and stacked in the corners and along the bench tops and stuff here and there.  That was gonna’ happen.

I’ve been sorta’ running about 3 shifts around here, with time off to work on honeydo’s and make sure that Valentines Day, St. Patrick’s Day, and Mother’s Day have adequate staff to handle last minute inspirations.  Of course.  Seems like there’s been tractor repair, trailer repair, truck repair, boat motor repair, and even some actual boat building going on out there concurrently.  So, I’d say that the rubble-level is about back to the “comfortable” stage.  Well, anyhow.

The logo is pretty easy to dream up.  And, the rest of the literary stuff I can turn over to the promo folks who work in my Planning Dept.  They don’t seem to have a lot to do lately, since just about everything we do out in the shop is on a make-it-up-as-we-go basis.  And, I’ll get back to that in a jiffy.  But, first, a bit more about this letterhead stationary thing.

There can’t be more than a handful of holdouts from that now-past era where people actually communicated with hand written notes and typewritten correspondence.  I did recently get a letter from Boyd Mefferd, certainly a gentleman of a different sense and time.  It was on PAPER.  And, wonder of antediluvian wonders, he actually TYPED it with a typewriter.  You may actually be old enough to remember typing stuff.  You know.  Before it even made sense for those blonds to get White Out on the computer screen.  Almost back before Noah took command of the A. R. K.  Almost before Mr. Hicks was born.

And, speaking of.  I was one of the gang who finally outed him.  You know, old Mr. “We don’t have an answering machine” Hicks.  Once upon a time I tried to send a story to him via his daughter’s email address.  Guess who answered?  Yeah.

And, Bob is about the only other one I can think of to actually mail stuff on a letterhead to.  Now that he actually can spell “F-a-c-e-b-o-o-k.”  There’s no turning back.  Anyhow.

I’m thinking that a proper logo/slogan for my far flung operation would include the following:

Almostcanada Boatworks
No project too bizarre
We make it up as we go

And, the graphics would include appropriate representations of angle grinders, splitting mauls, and come-alongs.  Well, maybe some less-refined implements as well.  I’ll have to ask the promo guys for help with this.

But mention of “making it up as we go” brings me to an oxymoron.  I’ve got a sort of progress report on Punkin’ Seed to send along. 

Only yesterday, I was about all caught up, and could maybe shut things down for a whole day shift, and maybe even keep the lights out for a while, too.  Well, it could happen.

Soooooo, I got Roughneck hooked up to Big Ole, and tossed a few boxes of Top Ramen in with the Dinty Moore cans.  (Tell me again, why we need refrigeration, Johnny Mack.)  A couple pair of dry socks.  And, I was headed for Kettle Falls.  It’s about 100 miles to the north, and I really need to get up there to clear up some matters of importance to the July messabout/cruise called the Nor’Kopeli.  Anyhow, off I went.

When, I got out on the highway, and put pedal to metal, we seemed to top out at about 40 knots.  That, and I don’t think the entire total of eight spark plugs were actually causing explosions at every opportunity.  But, we seemed to be able to get up to about 50 knots on the downhill runs.  So, I kept going.  I was also looking for a bingo field.  Just in case.

Well.  We were still chugging and snorting when we got to Priest River, Idaho.  They have a river in Priest River.  One with a launch ramp.  Yeah, like you probably guessed, the river’s name is the Pend Oreille River.  And, heck.  A launch ramp is a launch ramp.  So, we sputtered and coughed our way down the ramp and launched.

Right away, I could tell events were gonna’ have a high level of consistency.  Yep.  You could say that Roughneck’s main propulsion equipment was more than a little recalcitrant in making a lot of noise and smoke.  I was offering my own suggestion of what smoke and noise was supposed to be like.  But, all the sailor language in the world wasn’t gonna’ make up for the fact that the gas hose wasn’t exactly hooked all the way on to the gas tank, exactly.  So, when I got that matter rectified, the damn thing still didn’t want to start. 

After long enough to know better, I decided that the old 2-stroke would clear his throat if we could get out away from the dock and run “full blast” for a while.  So, we went up river for a few miles, and anchored for lunch.  And, a nap.  Of course.

As it got on toward dinner time, I opted to return to civilization.

The small matter of knowing exactly where my sleeping bag was, had little bearing on not staying out over night.  Well, maybe just a little.

So, I brought on the day shift guys, and let them go ahead and put in some overtime too. 

Those guys were a wonder of make-it-up.  At one point, one of the guys was trying to make a mast crutch.  He had a pile of stuff dumped out of a coffee can, right there next to a pile of trailer wheel bearings.  And, I think there was maybe a fuel pump and maybe a few sections of running thread too.  Probably a snatch block and even a few 8-32 machine screws (without nuts or washers to match, of course.)  Almost before I realized it, he had a mast crutch made outa’ a length of ½” pvc pipe, a chunk of UHMW that had once been a bottling works conveyor belt system rail guard,  a piece of shop vac attachment pipe, and a few other components laid out - and assembled. 

The whole job just about went like that.  By the time the foreman knocked us off, little Punkin’ Seed was just about ready to go off and see if she still leaks. 

This time as an antique white sloop.  She was born to be a cat boat, and I have had a series of colors painted on her in the past year of so.  Green, red, white, and even terra cotta.

This is during a loose-fitting session with sails, blocks and pad eyes, and various pieces of running and standing rigging.  I’ve got the night shift foreman with me, here, and I must say that he was pretty impressed with what the day guys can get done.

Maybe it’s time to knock the guys off again, early, and go see if she floats…

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