Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

It’s nighttime, and I’m pleased to report several things.  Quittin’ time came early - 2030.  It’s Sunday, so the Sup gave me the night off.

He doesn’t seem real gung ho himself.  But, it’s been a hard day, and even the boss needs his beauty sleep.

This whole boat building exercise could become moot in a matter of minutes.  Hopefully not.  But, the Pacific Northwest in general, and eastern Washington in particular, have been experiencing the most devastating wild fire season in history this past several months.  We are literally surrounded by uncontrolled fires totaling hundreds of square miles.  But, today is one to put on the plus side of the ledger.  It rained, rained some more, and then even a little bit more.  So far, we’ve been lucky.  So far, life goes on more or less like normal.  So far, Miss Kathleen proceeds.

I’ve been guilty of a perverse sort of building routine on occasion.  I do on occasion put a roof up in the air, and then build a house under it.  It’s pretty much how I built our cottage in the woods.

And it turned out OK.

And, then there was Roughneck, the almost-tugboat.

The rough “roof” was literally hoisted into the air, and a boat built under it.

And Roughneck turned out OK, too.  But, I had to draw the line at rebuilding a boat trailer, with the damn boat still on it.  After that Masochism Tango with the keel and then the keel landing platform on the trailer last night, I finally got the hint.  It would be waaaaaaayyyy easier to just hang the boat up in the air; while I cut, and grind, and saw, and blast my way with the trailer.

And in honor of this temporary lapse to logical thinking, and proper order, I was able to change the once-keelboat trailer from this:

To this:

I even got the new, shortened rudder in place.  Scientifically reduced to 12 inches - another bow to logic, as one foot is way easier to remember than, say, 14-3/4 inches, or something.

Another day or so, and you just never know.  We could, maybe, put this hull in the water and see where to sling the roof.  Well, I gotta’ go.  The boss says we have business to attend to - out on the back lawn.

I got a lot done today.  But, about knockoff time, I came very close to being put out of business.  Maybe for a long time.  It’s a cautionary tale, probably worth the telling.  Probably.

There is a vital hitch, though.  Think of it like trying to be absolutely safe from airline crashes.  Yeah.  Stay out of airports.  Like that.

What I did today, that was pretty painful as it was, and could have been cause for a trip to the ER; is almost inevitable for anybody who ever attempts to modify, repair, or restore a boat trailer.  You just about always need to drill holes in them.  Little holes for fasteners to secure lights, and wiring.  Middling sized holes to mount rollers, and bunks, and safety chains, and stuff like that.  And, then sooner or later, you will need to mount something truly heavy duty.  Unless you have a brother-in-law that not only owes you money, lives next door, and can weld; you will have to occasionally drill a ½” hole in the frame.

I was just finishing the last of half-dozen of those mean-as-a-wasp-nest half-inch holes.  My goggles were fogged up.  I was sort of lying and sort of kneeling in a lousy position.  My brand new extension bit was already dull, so I was instinctively pushing harder with what leverage I had.  And, because the big bit was already dull, this hole had been piloted with a series of smaller drills.  “All I had to do” was step it up from about 3/16” to ½”.  A short aside, and confession.

About a year ago, my hand therapist fired me as a patient.  He told me, point blank, that if I was going to continue using that high torque drill motor - freehand on steel; that I “shouldn’t come crying back to him…”  And, until today at least, I’ve been pretty cautious.  I use U-bolts whenever I can.  I set up each session with the full knowledge the damn thing is gonna’ kick.  This particular “last hole” was no different. 

I did have the pistol grip braced against the side frame.  I did have the secondary handle braced against the same member.  I did have my left hand situated so that I could let it kick free.  But, like I was saying, my goggles were fogged up, I wasn’t in a remotely comfortable position, and I’ll admit to feeling rushed.  I had just negotiated an additional hour before coming in for dinner.  Half of that hour was already used up. 

So, when that big drill bit got to the point of breaking through, it certainly got out of alignment.  When it grabbed, my set of precautions went by the wayside in an instant.  Instead of coming to a stop against the trailer frame as planned; the drill motor spun about two or three more times.  Both hands took the brunt of the assault.  As I looked down at my left glove, there was already blood dripping out.  That’s the wrist that I crushed a few years back, and has a steel plate and dozens of screws in it to hold all the itty bitty bits together.

My first thought was, “There goes your writing career…”  The second, more to the point, “This looks bad, and I really don’t want to pull that glove off…”  It was bad, but the point of the story is that it could have been a whole lot worse.  And.

And, it can happen to anybody.  I can happen to me, again.

This is the scene of the crime, later in the evening.  Pretty innocent looking.

The tool is just as I left it, after realizing that my hand(s) had been smashed against the angle to the right.  Yep, it could have been a whole lot worse.

Once upon a time, I had this idea for a portable, clamp-on drill press/milling machine sort of contraption that I could make holes like this with.  I’ve gotta’ do something.  I may have to swallow my pride, and ask the therapist to take me back.  He’ll probably bust all my fingers, just to keep me “safe.”

None of my relatives can weld.

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