Since Your Humble Blogger is well-known to be licensed to drive only surface vehicles and near-surface single-motor bugsmashers, what’s he doing up in the thin air, in the native habitat of things that have Mach numbers?
No, he did not take all the money from the advertising that is not on this blog and buy a Citation X (or an Aero L-39, which is probably more nearly what he’d like to afford). He got up here in the usual way of commoners, with a ticket and a humiliating wait-scope-snarl-n-grope drill from the mouth breathers at TSA.
As you read this, he is crammed into the Human Mailing Tube enroute to N’Awlins, where he’ll meet the Blogfather for a week of museum crawling, music, miscellaneous debauchery, and visiting violence upon his diet.
Sorry ’bout that, Dr. Cardiologist.
Accordingly, while we’ve banked some posts to keep the blog running, you may see some slower responses in the comments and from @Hognose on Gab.
Thanks to all for the cool suggestions of things to do and see in NOLA, and any local WeaponsMan readers are welcome to ping us here in comments, at Gab, or hognose at network impossible dot com and maybe we can work a partisan link-up in to this trip.
RV-12 Airplane Progress
After a veritable French farce of errors getting hold of replacement cadmium-plated washers, which are apparently eco-villainry of the most noxious kind, we began to make progress on the second wing. (Can’t fly on one wing). We got held up a little by misplacing a tube of Loc-Tite 243, which is called out by the plans. We have several other flavors of Loc-Tite, including the tantalizingly close 242, but not the 243. (The difference? Both are similar removable adhesives, but 242 is formulated for fasteners of a nominal 1/4″ to 3/4″, and 243 is for smaller ones). FAA regulations are such that, to bend a phrase of Twain’s to our use, “you need the exact thing, not its first cousin.” So as this post was drafted it’s uncertain whether our next-day LocTite 243 will arrive in time for us to fasten the electrical connectors in place, and skin the wing. The picture placed here (if any) will be a progress-brag. Or not.
Annnnd… the 243 was delivered in plenty of time, and we applied it to our fasteners (2 each) and slipped washers onto them, and screwed them through a wing rib and a doubler plate into the standoffs they go into, that hold an electrical connector at the wing root (so that the wings can be quick-detached with snap connectors for lights and stall warning wiring). The first one was no problem.
On the second one, the screw turned just too easily after the first couple of turns. Your Humble Blogger the tried holding the screw steady and having the Blogbrother rotate the hex-section standoff with an open-end wrench.
“Stop when it gets as hard as the last one.”
“It’s not getting any harder at all — hey! It’s not even attached.”
As it turned out, the thing screwed all the way in, but rather than take any strain at all, split across the threaded section about a thread-and-a-half from the screw head.
Naturally, we have eight gazillion spare fasteners that do not include any more of those screws or standoffs. (The standoff is ruined because the broken shaft of the screw is inside it. We’ve got a set of screw removers, but automotive sizes, not something that works on a 1/8″ screw). We have enough cadmium-plated washers to turn the Rong Brothers Aeroplane Factory into a Superfund site.
Crap. He’ll get to try the bolt again when a new one comes from Van’s. And some standoffs.
What Else is Going On?
At the urging of gardening guru David the Good, we’re playing in National Novel Writing Month, trying to finish a short (50,000 word) novel that fills the temporal gap between the outbreak of World War II in the Pacific, and our protagonists’ later adventures against the power of the Empire of Japan. We’re bending the timeline a little to get one guy from Panama on 8 December to Wake Island before the climax of the battle there, which, as you can imagine, doesn’t do him any favors at all. And the other guy? Boy, does he ever get a crummy job. (We failed to double word count on the 5th, which is actually a thing people try to do. We actually failed to write a word. Meanwhile, David did, and he’s been doing a painting every day this month.
While Traveling, Small Dog Mk II…
…will be warehoused in doggie durance vile, canine calaboose, hound hoosegow, puppy penitentiary.
Which is to say, the little guy, who gets terribly anxious if he can’t see his trained feeder monkey, will be boarded. (Original plan had him joining us on a road trip through the southeast. The change to a one-stop in urban NOLA put the kibosh on him joining us). This will either break him of the separation anxiety, or break Your Humble Blogger of traveling.
It is a battle of wills, between two stubborn individuals with counterposed walnut-sized brains. Like the election, the outcome is uncertain.
Updated to add — the drop-off went surprisingly well, and he seemed comfortable in the arms of the boarding kennel’s (“Don’t call us that, we’re a dog spa,” she insists) when we exited.