The poor little things! No wonder they’re so sour all the time.
A visit from Ian – to his own range, it must be said – usually means steel plate repair. We’re always shooting through chains, but usually I can fix it on site with a couple of wrenches. I keep lengths of chain cut to size and new bolts right at the target stand.
Usually he doesn’t bring his Vickers*.
In this case not only was the chain cut and the bolt damaged, the bolt’s head was peened to where I couldn’t even get a wrench on it.
Fortunately I’ve been upgrading my own repair facilities with a genuine work bench Landlady wanted out of her barn for some reason and a pretty good vice I just got from J, who didn’t want to store it anymore. I almost argued with him about it, because I’m an idiot, but from the state of its lubrication it hadn’t been used in many years anyway. Now it works great.
So I can do it right, and with the bolt’s abused head locked in tight I could spin off the nut without resort to a hacksaw.
And now it’s ready for remounting! What could be more wholesome?
Maybe we should chip in and buy some for Bloomberg, and then he’ll stop being so negative on everything.
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*I’m lying. The Vickers didn’t really do this, it just sounded cool.
As we used to say when I wore a uniform… Why slow dance when you can rock and role.
Yup, pokin’ holes in things relieves stress and makes me less negative for a little while. Somebody should do a cost-vs-benefit analysis of shootin’ compared to traditional talk therapy.
Nice looking vise!
I’m especially heartened to hear that you’ve acquired a new vice as well: I thought you were pretty much vice-ridden already, and had collected the whole set!
Gives me something to look forward to. I might become even more of a reprobate before I die.