True Grit

Tonight: sore throat.  I was tempted to create a new exception for non-febrile cold symptoms.  Nope, not backing off now.  Still, I dragged my feet leaving the house and didn't get in the car until 9:30.  Hit Home Depot (closed), Lowe's for 120 grit paper, then checkout and 0.2 hours of sanding with this little yellow number, which Lisa picked up today. [See following post for photo].


Afterward, I walked Lacey to do her stuff in the grass behind the tiedowns on Taxiway Alpha.  Within spittin' distance of the old man's ramp.  I picked it up anyway.

Generacions

Back in action, this time with a belt sander.


Now this isn't your father's belt sander. 'Cause it actually belongs to MY father. Unlike my grandfather's finish sander, which actually belongs to me. That's because my grandmother (on my mother's side) gave it to me last year -- my grandfather (also on my mother's side) having passed on years ago.


Before SHORTING OUT last night after a few days of operation, Grandpa's finish sander hadn't been used since (at earliest) the first half of '95.  Probably more like '85.


Enter the belt sander that belongs to my father (on my father's side), which is technically on loan, but in a "I'll never want this again" kind of way.  Just a few days ago, the belt sander had been spurned, in favor of the finish sander. Yes, It seems this simple paint-prep job is shaping up to be an epic generational contest.  At the moment, the advantage is clearly with the fully functional and reasonably safe baby boomer tool.  Okay, that's what I must use to make some progress tonight.  But after only a few square feet, it is obvious that the belt sander is way too ham fisted for use on paint.  Of course, Don knew that already.


So should I try to repair the metal behemoth that NEARLY FELLED ME last night?  Or buy a new tool just to finish the last hour's worth of work?  My father-in-law (on my wife's side) just arrived in town, and told a harrowing tale of an old acquaintance who was fatally electrocuted by a metal-chassis power drill.  After that, my father-in-law gathered up all his all-metal power tools and dumped them in an all-metal trash can. 


Hmm.


But now I am SURE that I hear the sound of a band rehearsing in a distant hangar, and I must investigate.

Sparks Will Fly

Sanding was cut short at 0.1 hours when my grandpa's old sander tried to electrocute me. It seems wires were exposed by the petrified insulation where the cord passes through a grommet at the end of handle (right next to my un-gloved wrist!)

Last night I had lowered the (quite heavy) sander down from the ladder by its power cable. Maybe that caused it to split. It didn't spit sparks at me until tonight.

Family Sanding

Lisa and I put in about 0.5 hrs sanding Don's drywall mud. The family was patient, but tired.

RV-7 Ride

Several hours with the family and Don, with completing scraping and gluing, and Don mudding everything. Now it's just sanding before we are ready to paint.

We also met David, another former tenant of our hangar (Jay Yau having been the first), likewise with a builder site, www.rv-7.com. David stopped by having heard about us and our rumored Sonex project.

The highlight of the day was Don getting a ride in David's very impressive RV-7. Erika was very disappointed that she couldn't go too, and extracted a commitment from me that she would get the first Sonex ride when we complete our airplane.

Fair enough.

Breathing Solvents

Whole family spent 1.5 hours in-hangar: Lisa mopping walls, me on the ladder scraping and gluing, kids causing mayhem.

As a consequence of all the close contact with grime, dried paint, altitude, Elmer's, fear, children fighting, and spray adhesive, my hands were encased in sticky black goo of indeterminate chemistry (though apparently inert w.r.t. water, soap, alcohol, and baby oil). This unpleasant coating took half of Buckeroo Banzai and most of the special features to remove. Tomorrow I'll wear latex gloves.

Chinese Pilots

BEFORE

AFTER

While I was spending my lunch hour at the hangar sticking old drywall tape back on with Elmer's (really), my through the-wall neighbor Jay Yau stopped by for introductions and to see my plane.

Since I don't have one, he told me about his: an RV-7 project, and a completed Murphy Rebel which he flew to Alaska.

For the full story, Mr. Yau was eager to point me at his URL: www.chinesepilots.com.