This post is going to be short and sweet.
So, my good friend Orlando decides this will be the afternoon that he chides me into removing the shrink wrap from my very dejected boat (she is usually plying the waves by April). He is unwittingly right-on in warning me that the boat might be growing mold and mildew under that skin, but I saw through the pretense... He really just wanted to go fishing! (I really WAS worrying about the mold and mildew.)
But, deviously, I agreed to take on the boat while really needing his help for a much less appealing endeavor. In fairness, I didn't think my other less appealing task, which was to install the transmission/transfer assembly in the Land Cruiser, was any more than an hours' job (utt oh). But I needed help on this one, as the damn thing weighs well over 100 pounds (I guess about 125) and I can't do it alone.
So, he arrives and learns of my devious plan (ain't too happy 'bout it either) but, like all good friends, rolls up his sleeves and grabs a wrench. I'll let the photo's explain what's involved: NOTHING! Hear me? NOTHING! I had the lift. I had the straps. I had a MASTER FUCKING MECHANIC! It was 80 glorious degrees and low humidity. Plenty of light. We were motivated (recall... a fishing trip!). If we were missing anything it was a waitress and a Mai Tai.
So, here is the position of the tranny it took all of 10 minutes to achieve. The splined shaft is lined up with the PROPERLY aligned clutch/flywheel. Grease and oil where it was needed. I obsessed over this alignment, knowing how very important it is.
And here is the position after 2 hours of LIFTING, WIGGLING and SHAKING 125 lbs OF STEEL. TWO HOURS OF SCREAMING, BLAMING, YELLING, CRYING, AND TELLING EACH OTHER THAT WE WERE A DISGRACE TO THE HUMAN RACE AND SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN!
That's right, same dang place! I'd have had better luck getting my spline into Gisele Bundchen's clutch, for Christ's sake. Then, at 10:30 PM, about 5 minutes before the sky was to fall (really), and 4 minutes before I would lose all respect from a good friend, I made a suggestion. It went something like this, "WE PUT THAT FUCKING STRAP BACK ON AND DO THIS MY WAY YOU (expletives deleted) OR I AM GOING TO BED!" By now, we have gotten to a place that made me very uncomfortable. Murder-suicide! (I'm not really sure whom would have assumed the role of killer and who the killee, and thank God fate stepped in). Right before the crime was to take place, the Gods of Perpetual Motion let this 14 spline (?) shaft slip right into that freaking hole as nice as could be. And here are a couple to prove it!
Notice my honorable friend at the end of that ratchet? Still on the job after the boss berated him like a cheap whore! Okay, a very expensive whore. Thank you, Orlando!
I need a helper this weekend... Any takers?
(no animals were hurt in the making of this blog)
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