Awoke sore and achy wondering what had hit me until I rolled over and mentioned it – and She replied with the same aches in the same places – could only mean one thing: Golf. Had not swung that wild club in over a year or more, and the 2nd day
of after weird exercise is always the one that catches you out.
Better remember to limber up next year. Meanwhile the sinus and goober Infitada has waned substantially today, with all signs pointing towards clearing-up instead of a tumor or worse. After a week of yucky green and streaky stuff with post-nasal sore-throat, and now with the advent of a high-pressure system overhead (hot weather) I had not expected this result. Yay! Ow!
All the yardwork last week and prior, out in the “garden” turning over rocks with clearly mildewy residue beneath – and wind – and then hauling them around in the Little Green Deathwagon – something must have insinuated itself in my nasal cavity and begun to fester. Fortunately (I suppose?) my strength was not depleted and my body rallied.
The murky brown haze that hung over the Lost City of Sacrament yesterday has been replaced by a wall of hot, steel-gray haze – the city is gone nowas far as anyone can tell. Hill-country temps escalating into the upper 90’s, the whole Valley is gone too – as if we are alone in an oasis of Heat. So this is what retirement is like: now I must wander out sweltering, hitched-up in high-waisted pants with a good section of sock showing, and find someone younger than me to badger.
UPDATE: And today (Friday) is better yet, and I need to get some seat-time on the bike.
Came across this while hitting the Antiques stores with my wife and her BFF. A WWI Springfield Armory 1918 bayonet cut-down by American Fork and Hoe for WWII and the M1 Garand, with a scabbard of Victory Plastics body and a Beckwith/New England Pressed Steel throat (B 1/9 N marking).
1918 Springfield Armory M1907 bayonet
American Fork & Hoe cut-down spear-point bayonet
American Fork & Hoe produced cut-down spear-point Springfield Armory M1907 bayonet
Need to get the “cam wire” figured out, but I managed to figure out how to set the shoulder back on a case using this infernal whirling contraption, and measure it with my headspace comparator gauge-thing!
Sorta. That is I cheated and compared it to an actual round, and then made adjustments screwing the die-down until it matched, which is a way of overcoming my near complete math illiteracy.
So now it goes up and down and around and around – albeit somewhat jerkily as any Steampunk device ought-to, and Piggyback is an appropriate name, but you could call it Hunchback too, from the condition I’ll develop, bending over and fiddling with it…
It’s bit of a kludge, like RCBS never threw anything away, they just rearranged the configurations. It’s one presssitting on top of another, the rams are joined by a link that fits like a male-female case-holder.
UPDATE: Hold on, let me reorient this:
Here’s the new superstructure mounted atop the old RS-3 press. It’s semi-manual, so you pop-in a case and then another and then another and it rotates and goes up and down and when one comes around finallly for a bullet you place the bullet on top and press it up, meanwhile another case is being de-primed and another is being primed, and one is loaded with powder, etc.
The Upside is the shell-plates are the same as the Pro200 and now I have a bunch.
Downside is the arbor height and ram-stroke only accommodates cartridges 2.260″ tall so .30-06/.308 etc. is out – it’s .223 and pistols for me with this baby (and the v.3 is a shorty also). :
And this is the bottom half.
And it’s held together and operated by this ram connector.
Fully functional and a good idea, engineeringwise…but it’s definitely not super-smooth in operation though that effect can’t be attributed to this link, it’s just an overall design issue.
The term Steampunk fits I think? There should be a whistle attached somewhere and a bevel-drive gizmo-something running off the side, and sections wrapped in crocodile skin.
The top die-head is shared with the earlier RCBS progressive press, the “Ammomaster”, and it is changeable but not that easily – it would be a bit like removing your tires to change the transmission, or visa versa…
I don’t have a powder measure rigged-up and have to buy one, so I don’t know if it throws everything onto the floor…
Meanwhile I’m looking for primer tubes and a powder measure…
I’ve had small knives since I was small, but when I was seven, with allowance money earned from making my bed each day and other household chores, I was allowed to buy myself a Cub-Scout lock-blade folder. It required a note from my Mom, and with that the man running the Boy-Scout supply-shop in town sold it to me. Both my older brother and I had those early knives for whittling.
I have a couple Swiss Army knives, a couple Leathermen multi-tools, my Kukri, and some bayonets to go with various rifles; the Krag pig-sticker, a Utica M1 Garand bayo and an Arial Cutlery M1 Carbine bayo. Swords have always held a certain appeal, and I was fencing (foil and saber) for a few years in College and – but I’m not a big knife-guy, not much more than utilitarian purposes require.
The household kitchen is well equipped with German steel, but I mainly prepare food nowadays with a couple Japanese Santoku’s we picked up at Long’s on Maui when the condo-provided implements proved to savagely dull and unworkable.
And so anyhow, I got a hankering for a blade that would compliment the Gentleman’s Heater I recently acquired. Something stainless with bone scales. I looked online at Amazon and came across a somewhat familiar name – Kit Carson. The M4.
Classy and stylish, the M4 knife hits all the required notes – but I had to get it for another reason. Back in Ancient History Daze, pre-WWII when my dad was a kid, his social-climbing mom went researching the family archives in order to ensure her ability to hob-nob with the local chapter of the DAR – and she came across a family link to the legendary Kit Carson. The real clincher to the DAR membership was a Revolutionary War brigadier general who fought (and was killed) in South Carolina, but Kit Carson was an interesting rock to turn-over, and since early boyhood-time with the Cub-Scout knife and all, I have had a small, reddish-brown, cloth bound book copyright 1941 of the American Adventure Series KIT CARSON – by “Frank L. Beals, Assistant Superintendent Chicago Public Schools.” It’s a kind of school-book or something, with questions at the end of each (short) chapter, and as much Legend and Fable as anything else – but written in pencil are some of the first underlining and notes I ever took. Kit Carson.
(Updated to include links)
Something I came across when I was searching for art by hot-rod artist and deviant Robt. Williams… Must be Chicago.
From Matthew 2:1 – Epiphany is the season of illumination!
And… the transitive property of two being none, technically I need at least three of everything, and so I do – four actually.
The coil-powered snow gizmo: H/t To SDA
Can’t say much for the music but spacy seems to do the trick.
In the whole 5-gun meme I responded variously in comments about certain picks, but NJT’s post reminded me of one I forgot, so I went to find a picture of it – and was amazed…
And the amazement grew… This is a stunning accomplishment in aviation. I am awestruck.
The symphony is back…and I love it.
click to enlarge
click to enlarge
click to enlarge
click to enlarge
click to enlarge
I had some stuff to drop-off at the Animal Shelter – some doggie blankets and a stack of old towels. On the way home in the rain I drove along Highway 237, past a place where I once worked and a low, red-brick bar, where Evel Knievel once got into a dust-up and was arrested for punching his fifth wife – or something. Both buildings obliterated by Time’s all-consuming gray moustach flecked with bits of food.
The wipers made a soft and infrequent ~whap~ as I drove past the former flagship 3-Com campus buildings where I did technical drawings for a year as a temp. Evidence of it’s past association and also the neighboring Palm Computing signs have disappeared beneath the over-arching corporate badges of Marvell Semiconductor. The dive dance-bar was now a gaping hole between two other buildings – at least its absence served as the promise of a new beginning. Further along another ghost appeared in the mist, the old home of Netscape now housing Symantic, and down the street the building where Intel started in 1968.
I made a left and drove home to the mailbox where I pulled out a community flyer on retirement planning and a Crimson Trace catalog… Oh great.