Adjustable Wrenches

Adjustable wrenches... You either love 'em or you hate 'em. I own several sizes, and feel that they have a place in my toolbox. I use them to tighten or loosen bolts I know won't require a lot of torque. They have a common nickname (knuckle busters), and if used on a bolt with a rounded head or a very tight bolt, slipping often occurs, usually resulting in damage to some part of the hand.

One way to reduce slipping is to remember that the movable jaw should lead when tightening or loosening a bolt or nut. This the strength of design. The movable jaw is prone to shift around slightly under load, and if you count on it to stay engaged on the flats of the nut or bolt head under load, you are headed for trouble. By leading with the movable jaw, you are essentially forcing the nut or bolt INTO the movable jaw, not away from it.

This method may not eliminate slippage entirely,but it will greatly reduce it.

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

As I was growing up, my mother often said "No brains, no headaches." when referring to something my friends or I had done that demonstrated a lack of common sense.

One memory I have is an action so dangerous that I wonder how we weren't killed or at least brain damaged. We had to wait for winter to be fully upon us to engage in this foolish behavior, and that was to stand underneath the snow stream from the highway departments' huge snow throwers. They were used to widen or open roads plugged with snow from storms that seemed to rage constantly when I was a child. These units were capable of throwing almost anything that might be in their path, including the constant chunks of ice being thrown with the snow. The ice chunks ranged from marble size to six inches in diameter. There was also the potential for rocks or parts of frozen animals to land on our heads in addition to the ice chunks.

I'm not aware of anyone being seriously hurt by such antics, but I'm sure luck was the only reason. I remember looking at the snow stream as an adult and seeing numerous chunks of ice flying a hundred feet into the air and rain down with tremendous force. Our idea of fun makes staying in doors glued to a computer seem like a good idea by comparison.

No Batteries Necessary

The building construction industry utilizes CAD (computer aided design) systems world wide and I'm sure computers are responsible for cost savings in the industry that would stagger the imagination. A thought occurred to me about a tool that's probably headed the way of the spoke shave and other fine tools that gave the industry its start and that tool is the framer's square.

I've known carpenters in my past who treated their square like fine china. It was carefully handled and wiped down after each use. In effect, it was the old carpenters personal computer, capable of laying out common rafters, hip rafters and stairs. It incorporated a board foot scale as well as an octagonal scale, and I'm sure readers could name several other functions that this "no batteries necessary" tool could accomplish.

I just hope there are still some old hands out there that will take the time to teach a willing student the joy of using a framing square for more than cutting a board to length at a right angle. It would be a shame to have it succumb to advanced technology.

Rolling Tool Box

When a maintenance craftsperson receives a work order, he/she must consider which tools will be needed to complete the work. In an organization where planning and scheduling are fully engaged, hand tools should be the only consideration, as the planner would have delivered any larger tools to the job site.

Even so, the job may require several different hand tools, and getting them to the job site can mean one or more trips if you don't have a rolling tool box. If the maintenance department doesn't have enough money in the budget to purchase everyone a tool box on wheels, I think buying one is a good personal investment. A tool box makes cleaning, inspection and organizing a lot easier. When tools are stored in a tool bag they tend to be ignored.

A tool box won't be used on all jobs, but it will help reduce the potential for shoulder pain from carrying a tool bag every day for twenty years. In an organization engaged in reactive maintenance, a tool box makes even more sense, as the craftsperson never knows what tools will be needed for the fire fight of the day. Bummer...

What a Grind

Bench grinders or post grinders are quite safe, as long as some precautions are taken when when using them. Proper tongue guard and tool rest adjustments, in addition to keeping the grinding wheel properly trued with a facing tool is normally all that's needed to keep a grinder in good working order.

The operator needs to keep a couple of things in mind as well. First and foremost, is eye protection. Anyone who has been in the maintenance field for even a short time has probably seen objects embedded in the eye. It's not pretty. Never grind on the side of the wheel because it isn't designed for side pressure, and the stone can fly apart suddenly and violently.

Unbuttoned long sleeves and gloves are also dangerous, as the wheel can snag these clothing items, pulling arms and fingers into the wheel.

I worked with a millwright who wore leather gloves while grinding, because he could hold onto the metal piece longer before he cooled it off. On the surface, this seems like a good idea, but in his case the thumb of his glove got pulled between the tool rest and the wheel. The man's thumb went along with the glove, and the result was a thumb that was ground to the first joint before he hit the OFF switch.

On a large 5 hp grinder, there is no instant stop for the wheel, so it applied abrasive force to his thumb for some time after switching the grinder off. The millwright was an old timer and he knew better, but was in a rush.

I've been involved in many non-fatal accident investigations, and a common comment is "I was in a hurry." Take all the time necessary to get the job done safely. This will help ensure that your fellow workers are talking to you, not about you as you head for the emergency room.

Changing Times

As I reflect on maintenance methods I've observed during my career, I'm struck by how the industry spotlight continues to increase its focus on improving asset maintenance.

Working as a laborer in the 1960's on a blacktop crew didn't allow exposure to maintenance being done at the blacktop plant. However, I was called to duty for a week one summer to run the front end loader feeding the aggregate to the plant. From that vantage point, I was able to watch the maintenance crew in action.

The crew consisted of one electrician and one mechanical repairman. I was amazed at how quickly they could respond to a problem, get it repaired, and then go back to their little shack and wait for the next breakdown. I had never heard the term "reactive maintenance" back then, but that was what I was observing.

The owners probably had never heard the term either, but at the same time I'm sure they liked how fast their maintenance crew could get things up and running after a crash.

Just imagine what a little preventive maintenance could have done to improve the bottom line even with such a small operation! This was the era when a maintenance job posting would have had good "firefighting" ability as a prerequisite, I'm sure.

It's encouraging to observe that industry is now much more aware that to be a low cost producer, improved maintenance practices are paramount.

Ice Safety

Soon our thoughts will turn from whitetail deer to fish tales as the ice fishing season goes into full swing here in Minnesota. if you have not heard of this, we actually drive our cars out on the ice, drill holes in it, and fish all day in the freezing cold weather. It might sound crazy, but it is great fun when the fish are biting.

There are many sources of ice thickness information available, but when it comes to ice safety there is no such thing as too much information.

Here are the safe thicknesses:
- 2 inches or less STAY OFF the ice even on foot!
- 4 inches is safe for people walking
- 6 inches is safe for ATV's and Snowmobiles
- 8-12 inches is appropriate for automobiles
- 12-15 inches is safe for a pickup truck

Source: Minnesota Department of Natural Resources website

Being raised by an ice fishing father, I witnessed some close calls because of jumping the gun concerning safe ice thickness. Please adhere to these guidelines. We here at Nobreakdowns.com wish you all a safe and bountiful ice fishing season.

Bend From the Waist

Here's a little safety tip that experienced welders know well, but for someone learning on their own, it could help prevent painful burns.

When welding in close quarters, it's common for sparks to work their way into one's shirt, either through the neck opening or burning through the fabric. Instead of slapping at the offending hot metal, simply bend from the waist and let the spark burn through the fabric or at least cool off some, but not on your skin.

It takes practice, because it's so hard to remember to bend when the near molten metal is rolling around on bare skin, but it works.

Pry Bars

One of the unsung heroes of the tool world, in my humble opinion is the rolling pry bar. The tool provides tremendous leverage by its design, and doubles as a drift pin in most cases because of its tapered handle. The tool works best when leverage space is at a premium, or when something needs to pried apart that is held in position on locator pins, and must be lifted vertically. Using two bars 180 degrees apart makes an otherwise difficult task with screwdrivers, easy by comparison. In addition it saves wear and tear on screwdrivers, which should never be used as a pry bar or chisel.

Head Protection

The first high paying job I ever had was as a laborer with a road construction company The job didn't last long, because I lied about my age (told them I was 18, when I was actually 17.) Two weeks later, when I got my first check, I got a pink slip as well, because my Social Security number gave me away.

During my two week tenure, I was assigned to a brushing crew, which is step one when making a road through the wilderness. It was at this early stage of my working career that I learned to appreciate the protection provided by a hard hat.

The more experienced workers on the brushing crew ran the chain saws, and the new guys like myself stacked branches into piles to be burned later. The chain saw operators would always yell "Timber!" whenever a tree was about come down, and with several guys running chain saws, we had to pay close attention whenever the word "Timber!" was heard.

One day, as I heard "Timber!" I turned to watch the tree fall and immediately heard "Timber!" again. As I turned around to look for the next tree, it was too late. The four inch diameter maple tree landed squarely on my head, which was protected by my aluminum hard hat. The tree drove me to my knees, put a large dent in my hard hat, and the hard hat suspension collapsed absorbing more of the energy as it is supposed to do.

The end result was a slight headache and a newfound respect for hard hats that followed me the rest of my working life. Since that day, I have never resisted any company policy requiring the wearing of hard hats.

International Maintenance Conference (IMC-2006) Daytona Beach, FL 12/5-12/8

The fantastic International Maintenance Conference (IMC-2006) is being held in Daytona Beach, Florida from December 5-8 this year.

We will be hosting a booth, and releasing our new SystemEyes™ web-based performance measurement application. Please stop by to visit us if you are in the area.

This is the finest maintenance and reliability conference around, and it's your loss if ya miss it.

Flashlights

In order to perform conveyor belt maintenance effectively, the craftsperson should have a quality flashlight on their tool belt. Most conveyor belts are enclosed, and for the most part, the lighting could be improved. Therefore, a good flashlight is a handy tool for inspecting belt rollers.

In poor light it's not easy to spot a stuck roller, and not seeing a one could have grave consequences if the roller gets red hot from belt friction. The belt and/or product being conveyed could catch fire, and put a an operation down for an extended period.

A quality flashlight isn't a budget buster, and is very useful in many other applications.

Punch Holder

Performing normal maintenance often requires removing tight fitting pins from large conveyor chains and numerous other applications. A punch that is slightly smaller in diameter than the pin being removed is commonly used for this task.

Usually, on a large pin, two people are involved; one to hold the pin and one to swing the hammer. Perhaps a sledge hammer is used, depending on the size of the pin being removed. There is a tool available in most industrial supply stores to hold the punch, that keeps the punch holder's hands out of harm's way, in case the hammer swinger has the nickname "Lightning" (A guy who never strikes twice in the same place).

I've witnessed severe hand and arm injury during my maintenance career, and the punch holder is one of the best ideas I've seen. It holds the punch more securely than a pair of pliers, and can accommodate any size punch, thus making the whole process a lot safer.

Hand Tools

When we think of maintenance, we tend to think big, like maintaining industrial equipment, or keeping a large office complex running. But how about the tools that are used to perform the maintenance? I'm talking about basic hand tools. My guess is most people don't take time to wipe down their tools and inspect them for wear. For the most part, few things go wrong with hand tools, but occasionally a problem will be discovered. I recall a pipefitter having a difficult time keeping his pipe wrench from slipping while trying to tighten a fitting. Upon closer inspection, he found that the replaceable jaws were worn from years of hard use. The remedy was simple; replace the jaw inserts and the wrench was good as new. Taken to the extreme, tools that are in poor repair can also be dangerous.

Take a little time each day and devote it to hand tool maintenance. You might be glad you did.

You Did What?

A recent catch phrase goes, "What were you thinking?" The phrase could be applied to an incident I witnessed while working at a smelter in Upper Peninsula Michigan. The mining company had bought a state-of-the-art copper casting machine made in Belgium. The unit was the first of it's kind in the U.S., and was different in that it was designed to cast copper in a continuous sheet at seven feet per minute. The sheet was approximately three feet wide by an inch and a half thick.

Liquid copper is poured into one end of the machine and the copper slab comes out of the other end. The copper going in is about 1200 degrees F, and after some cooling in the caster, the slab exits in a solid state at around 800 degrees F. The exit temperature is important to my story.

The casting machine combined with the cutting table was approximately one hundred feet long. If a person wanted to get from one side to the other, it involved a little walk to do so. But what if you're a maintenance superintendent who is in a hurry all of the time, and don't have time to make detours to get from one side of the machine to the other? You take a shortcut right?

I think we all can remember a time when we had a memory lapse. But the superintendent had a memory "blackout" the day we watched in horror as he stepped on the 800 degree slab to take a "shortcut." The soles of his work boots poured smoke as they liquified. He may as well have been on wet ice. He fell on the hot slab on his right side and using his gloved right hand pushed himself to a standing position and jumped off the slab in less than a heartbeat. Not bad for a man who had his retirement date written on his calendar.

It's amazing what humans are capable of in an emergency. He received no burns whatsoever, due to his coveralls and long underwear and his gloves which all insulated and protected his skin. Being in good physical condition also contributed to his good fortune, because he wasn't left floundering on the hot slab.

Our first question was "Why did you do it?" But looking back it would have been more logical to say "What where you thinking?"

Michigan vs. California

One day, a company from California ran an ad in our local newspaper to hire people to run a small operation that was intended to recover copper from the "poor rock" piles as they were called in our area, left over from abandoned mining operations.

There are numerous poor rock piles throughout Michigan's Upper Peninsula, left over from a bygone era when the area was one of the richest locations on earth.

The company from California had done some sampling of some of the piles and thought some money could be made sorting through the rock for copper that had been missed by the old operation, which had used crude equipment and had ignored the waste due to the massive quantity of copper to be found at the time.

I was hired as a night maintenance supervisor, and on the first night of operation in August, the discussion soon got around to all the exposed belts used to get the rock into the processing building. We all recommended enclosing the belts and heating the enclosures with steam tracing lines.

The California management said enclosing the belts was not in the budget. We persisted, explaining that when the really cold weather came in December and January, the exposed belts would be a problem due to the amount of water in the rock that was going to be run through the process.

The piles never froze solid, as some were fifty feet deep or more. As the temperatures dropped below freezing, one could see the vapor rise from each bucket load of rock being dumped into the process. Further evidence of pending problems could be witnessed by the amount of water on the belts and the accumulation around the tail pulleys.


As we encountered our first twenty below (Fahrenheit) night, all of our predictions came true. The first "opportunity" came from water freezing on the top surface of the belt. Because of the the front end loader feeding the system, the belts had to carry periodic loads, not continuous coverage of the belt. The loads would get almost to the head pulley of the main 400' feed belt, and the come sliding backwards down the entire length of the belt, consequently piling up at the tail pulley, jamming the belt, tripping the breaker and shutting down everything.

We would clean everything from around the tail pulley and restart, only to have the problem soon repeat itself. A second problem surfaced later in the night. Water from the wet rock ran over the edge of the belt and caused ice to build up on the underside, or drive side, of the belt. The result would be that the head pulley would slip, stopping the belt and all feed into the plant.

I called the plant manager to ask his assistance to resolve the situation. His answer was simple, and he wondered why I didn't think of it. He said to fill a 55 gallon drum with fuel oil, light it, and position it under the belt near the tail pulley to keep the belt warm. The crew couldn't believe me when I returned with the news. We did as instructed, and the fire worked as a temporary solution. We manned the barrel to avert disaster, and changed the guard every half hour because of the cold.

Around 4:00 am, the temperature got down to thirty below, and during one of the changes of the guard, the belt was left unattended for five minutes. "Murphy" stepped in to do his work, and sure enough the head pulley started slipping again, giving the fire a non-moving target. The belt caught on fire over the barrel, and proceeded up the entire length of the belt in the time it takes to say "Oh boy!"

We had no means to fight the fire, and by the time the fire department arrived, there was little fire left to put out, save for some remnants of the belt that had fallen to the ground.

Previous to this disaster, the company had experienced many other cold related problems too numerous to describe, and the belt fiasco was the last straw. The company shut down a week before Christmas, and at least for me, it was the best present of all.

The plant may have been operable, exposed as it was, in California, but in the cold of U.P., it never had a chance. It's sad, because even though we were never told anything about profitability, it seemed like a lot of copper was being recovered.

Tubing

My first exposure to floating down Wisconsin's Apple River occurred in 1973 when a friend suggested we give it a try. We brought three tubes. One for ourselves, and one for adult beverages and snacks. We tied a cooler inside the third tube, and proceeded on our journey along with a whole bunch of other tubers.

It was a bluebird day, hot and sunny, and it didn't take long to feel the sun's heat. My friend and I are both of Scandinavian descent, and subject to a quick sunburn. For the most part, the river moves slowly, and the trip is a good opportunity to enjoy the water, sun and conversation.

We battled the sun's rays by frequent dunkings, and consumption of beer to restore lost fluids. The trip took about an hour and a half, and by that time we were out of liquids, and our exposed flesh had that boiled lobster look.

At the very end of our tubing adventure, we had to negotiate a little white water for about one hundred yards (roughly 100 meters, for those on the metric system). My friend flipped his tube in the rapids, and while under water, he managed to cut his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and lost his glasses as well.

We laughed about it all the way home, however my friend's wife didn't see the humor in our story, and kind of gave me the eye as if I were responsible for her husband's misfortune.

I don't remember having to even twist my friend's little finger to help me drink the beer, but as the "single guy" I had the same experience previously with some of my other married friend's wives, and was thus accustomed to it.

As I recall, we dropped our empties into the river, because it seemed like the thing to do. As I reflect, I see we helped contribute to the silver looking bottom that the river had a reputation for at the time. I'm sure dropping cans into the river is no longer acceptable, and that's a good thing, as the river is really a beautiful resource best left as nature intended.

It's Not the Horsepower It's the Torque

The pickup truck craze kind of got it's start in the early 70s. Ten years earlier, there were a few around, but most of the people I knew got along with their cars. If something large needed to be hauled, people simply hooked a trailer to their car and got it done.

My father always wanted a truck, but with five kids, he deemed it impractical, and never did buy one, even after we left home.

My Dad was a practical man, and took great pride in doing things himself. When it came to making a concrete driveway, he figured let's do it like eating an elephant, one piece at a time. In order to make concrete, you need aggregate (gravel). So we hooked up his "home-made" trailer (I said he was practical) to the old 1956 Plymouth Plaza, and headed for the gravel pit.

The guy running the loader at the gravel pit asked how much gravel we wanted, and my Dad's answer was, "Just up to the top of the ten inch side board." The trailer was little over four feet wide by eight feet long. That way we could haul sheetrock when necessary to renovate my Dad's home. Practical huh?

Getting back to the gravel... The loader operator filled the trailer per my Dad's instructions, plus a little more. We drove onto the scale to get the weight of the gravel. We then paid the clerk, and I placed the receipt on the seat of the car, never looking at it. I was behind the wheel, and I told my Dad that the car felt a little sluggish as we left on the seven mile ride home.

Things are different now, but back then there was a notorious hill name Van Orden's that we had to ascend in order to get home. It wasn't long compared to Montana hill standards, but it was a pretty steep. As we started up the hill, I thought it would be prudent to get into second gear right away. However, the 230 cubic inch, 125 horsepower straight six engine seemed to protest pretty strong about second gear, so I double clutched the "old girl" into low (no low gear syncros back then).

Things were looking pretty good until the last three hundred feet or so, and I turned to my Dad and shared that certain look you get when it appears death is imminent. But, we laughed like tough guys and simultaneously said, "She'll make it." The hill had a left turn at the top, and I swear as we topped the grade the engine sounded like it was turning at about thirty rpm. After that, things got a whole lot better, and we made home without further incident.

When we got in the driveway, my Dad said, "Let me see that weight slip." He laughed, and showed me the slip. It said 4800#! We both got all rattled again when my my Dad said, "What if the engine had stalled?" We both could see us rolling backward down the hill being pulled by all that weight, with no trailer brakes, and no power assisted brakes on the Plymouth. It was a hell of a thought.

That engine didn't have a lot of horse power but it did have a lot of low end torque.

Venting About the Slug

I have been working in maintenance and engineering roles of various kinds for nearly 20 years now, and I think it is about time I said my piece about the ridiculous units of measure we use in the United States for many things.

Now, I understand that switching to the metric system is not without its troubles, but now that we have resisted it for several decades, we have a complete mess. Who can count the number of errors created by our combination of several different systems?

Consider this:
How many meters are in one kilometer? 1000
How many feet are in one mile? 5280

How many centimeters in one meter? 100
How many inches in one foot? 12

At what temperature does water freeze in degrees Celsius? 0
At what temperature does water freeze in degrees Fahrenheit? 32

At what temperature does water boil in degrees Celsius? 100
At what temperature does water boil in degrees Fahrenheit? 212

What is a standard unit of mass in the metric system? The kilogram
What is a standard unit of mass in the English (American) system? The slug

The SLUG? Come on! What is THAT?

Look at just this short list, and it is a miracle that we can even function using the old system that the elegant and efficient metric system should have replaced years ago.

Well, I have said what I wanted to say. Now, I have to wrap it up. I am planning to spend my weekend with my 13/32" wrenches and 3/8" socket set, working on my lawn tractor with it's 38" deck and 11 horsepower motor. I need the tractor to mow my lawn, which is almost 2 acres. An acre is 208 feet by 208 feet, in case you didn't know.

Car Safety

Trying to come up with a topic about safety, led me to think about how far the auto industry has advanced since I first hit the road in 1961 behind the wheel of my father's 1956 Plymouth Plaza.

Compared to my grandfather's day, a few advancements had been made. Examples would be safety glass, hydraulic brakes, bias ply tires and perhaps improved shock absorbers.

Since the sixties the list of safety improvements has grown considerably. We take a lot for granted with today's cars, but just think of how far we've come.

Today we have radial tires, power steering, power brakes, seat belt/ shoulder harnesses, airbags (up to eight on some models), traction control, ABS, inflation indicators for the tires, collapsing steering columnes, crush zones, automatic headlight dimmers, obstacle sensors for backing up, cameras for backing up, sensors to warn when we are too close to another car on some models, factory installed communication systems, disc brakes, stability control to help prevent rollovers, stronger passenger compartment construction and child seat restraints.

I'm sure more safety improvements are on the drawing boards, but the list is impressive, isn't it? Now, if we could figure out how to make a cellphone inoperative in a car that is moving...

Thanksgiving

The holiday season is upon us, and we here at Nobreakdowns.com want to wish everyone a sincere Happy Thanksgiving. Holidays can be the loneliest time for some people, so if you have a friend or relative that lives alone, or is in a senior care home, taking time from your busy schedule to simply call and wish them well will do wonders for their morale.

Everyone today seems to be busier than ever, and finding time to make that call can be difficult. Rest assured, the call, or better yet, a visit with some special treat that the person is known to enjoy will be worth the effort.

Someone else will get immense satisfaction from it as well, and that person is you.

The Little Pickup That Could

I used to burn firewood, and like a lot of people I've known, I really enjoyed cutting it. There's something about chainsaw exhaust and fresh air that makes it fun for me.

I borrowed a friend's four-wheel drive pickup one fall, for fear I would get my car-trailer combination stuck because of a recent extended rainfall. The soil in the area where I wanted cut the wood had a lot of clay in it, and I was sure my car would have gotten stuck.

My wife and son and I cut a pickup load for firewood, and started for home. I had to drive up a very slight grade to get to the main logging road, but in a few seconds the wet clay loaded up on the tires on the truck and we couldn't move. It was the only way out, so we started walking, hoping to find help as we walked toward home.

In about a mile, we came upon a group of college age guys in worse shape than we were, by far. Their old Suburban was frame deep in the mud, and wouldn't budge. As we studied their situation, another man happened by with a 1963 two-wheel-drive Chevrolet pickup, and asked if he could lend a hand. We all kind of snickered as we scoped out his truck. He said, "I'll get you out if you want me to." He showed us his tow chain, which was about one hundred feet long, in the box of his pickup. In addition, he had an old car tire.

The Suburban was off of the main logging road about twenty feet, and faced the road at a slight angle. The man said to connect a shorter chain he carried to the frame of the Suburban, and then around the tire. He then looped the end of the long chain through the tire, and connected the other end to back of his pickup.

He backed down the road, past the Suburban until the chain was tight. Then he asked, "Are you ready?" The owner of the Suburban said, "Yes." The man floored his little six cylinder automatic transmission truck, and as he flew by the Suburban, he had about a one hundred foot head start.

When the chain tightened in the opposite direction, the Suburban literally leaped out of the mud, almost giving the driver whiplash. The tire acted as a huge rubber band, cushioning the shock of the instantaneous load applied to the chain. Neither the chain, nor any part of either vehicle received any damage.

The driver of the two wheel drive pickup had a child-like grin on his face, when he said he had reached thirty miles per hour as he hit the end of the chain. The ease of unsticking the larger vehicle demonstrates that when used properly, momentum can be your friend.

By the way, the guys in the Suburban gave us a ride back to our truck, and with a little nudge I was unstuck as well, and on my way.

What a Job

As I reflect on various jobs I've held over a long working career, the modern saying "What were you thinking?" comes to mind. One summer, I worked for a local construction company, the owner of which was known to be a tyrant. Once you were working for this guy, you realized that if you wanted to keep your job, you kept your mouth shut about any injustices you might observe.

One day, I was told to drive a water truck to a work site about forty miles away. No big deal, you say? How about a five ton truck with a seven hundred fifty gallon water tank full to the brim with no brakes except for the hand brake, which would bring the truck to a grinding halt as long as you weren't exceeding three miles per hour!

I asked the shop mechanic if he could fix the brakes before I left, and he said there was no way. The shop was overloaded with higher priority work. "Higher priority than no brakes?", I thought? The shop mechanic said "Just take it easy and you'll be OK."

My only option at that time was to quit and go home. However the money was great, so I lit a cigarette, jumped in the truck and proceeded down the road.

It's amazing how alert you can be when you're behind the wheel of a large vehicle with no brakes. You find yourself looking down the road at intersections a mile ahead of you, and wondering if the car waiting to turn out on the highway is going to do so at the last second, and if he does, where will your escape route be? Lots of scenarios go through your mind. Things like "loose cannon", and such.

The ride really got interesting going through a small town on the way to the job site. I was glad that there were no stop lights, or even stop signs along the route, but that didn't stop me from smoking around ten cigarettes during the one hour drive.

I arrived without incident, and passed the truck off to the assigned driver, and assumed my duties on the paving crew, as a laborer.

Around ten o'clock that morning, we got word that when the water truck driver went to fill the truck at one of the many rivers in the area, he ended up backing over a car at an intersection. Even though he had managed to stop the truck with the hand brake, he didn't engage the clutch quickly enough, and as he started forward, the truck rolled backward on top of the car waiting behind him at the intersection.

Now that I'm in the twilight of my career I think of how quickly I'd refuse to do such a dangerous thing. I guess you really are bulletproof when you're young.

Street Sweepers

During my high school years, I was fortunate to have a good friend whose father was the street commissioner in our town. Once I turned sixteen, I pretty much had a summer job in the bag.

In the 60's, the town budget could ill afford a powered street sweeper. Therefore, it was our job as common laborers to sweep the streets by hand every spring. Our brooms were the heavy duty type with six-inch woody bristles. It didn't take long to wear the bristles down to a nub.

We would pick a starting spot in town, and on a daily basis, sweep the accumulated debris (mostly sand used to increase traction during the winter) into piles that would be shoveled first by hand into a following dump truck and later as the town was able to afford one, a front-end loader. The loader operator would then empty the bucket into the dump truck greatly assisting us with the cleanup.

I'm not certain, but I think a rough estimate of the length of combined streets would be ten miles. The whole procedure would take a couple of weeks.

I now live in a town ten times the physical size of my home town, and I when I watch the new sweepers finish the whole town in a couple of days, I often think back to my street sweeping days.

It's a study in human nature to reflect and wonder why we never griped about what today would be a daunting task, at best. I think the reason we never complained, was that we were under the impression that every town used human street sweepers. If there ever would have been a street sweeping competition back then, I would have said sign me up! We were good at our job.

If a poll was taken to determine the most beneficial technological advancement in the last fifty years, I doubt if the modern street sweeper would be on the list. I know it would be on mine.

Trench Safety

I worked in building construction field as a laborer early in my career, and witnessed first hand the consequences of poor safety procedures when digging a trench. Another laborer and I were assigned to spread pea gravel on the bottom of a trench for a sewer line to a newly constructed senior citizens home.

We accessed the trench which was fifteen feet deep and four feet wide with an extension ladder. A loader would deposit a bucket of pea gravel in the trench, and my partner and I would level it with shovels.

We worked about fifty feet behind the excavator and never gave a thought to our safety. I don't know if a trench box had been invented yet, or that the decision had been made that the soil was stable enough not to slope the sides, or if anyone had even thought about a possible cave in.

As we proceeded with spreading the gravel someone screamed, "the trench is caving in!" My partner and headed for the ladder as fast as we could, as the trench gave way. The walls gave way from the bottom up. I remember distinctly because as I looked back as we franticly climbed the ladder, seeing the sand engulf my shovel handle, which I had left standing up when we ran for the ladder. I remember bumping into my partner's feet with my head, and feeling the sand around my ankles as we climbed to safety.

Our supervisor asked if we were OK, and we said "Just a little shook up." The supervisor then said that we could go back down in the trench as soon as the excavator operator got the trench open again. We went back into the trench, which had been widened to about eight feet, with little concern about another cave in and finished the job without further incident.

To this day, I'm amazed not by the company's lack of safety procedures, but by our total lack of concern for our own safety!

Today no one would think of going into a trench without a trench box, but forty years ago I don't think many people had even heard of one. There has been a quantum leap in safe work practices since then, but everyone needs to consider their own safety and question any procedure they don't feel comfortable with. You may not get a second chance.

Dedication

It seems a guy that lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains made a claim the he had the smartest coon dog that ever lived. At least, no ever came forward to dispute his claim. Ever since the dog was a pup the owner was sure he had a winner.

When the they would go out hunting, the owner soon realized that if he said, "I hope we get a big coon today.", invariably when the dog would be barking that he had something "treed". Sure enough, a huge coon would be looking down at the hunters.

One day, the hunter said, "I hope we get a small coon today. You guessed it! The treed coon was real small.

The guy thought to himself, I could make this hunting a lot easier on me. So, he came up with a plan to ring a bell on the porch of his house, and show the dog a coon hide stretcher board and see what the dog would do. The dog looked at the board and took off.

An hour later, he returned with a coon that fit the board perfectly. This went on for a long time, and then one day the guy's wife said to him, "I'm going to iron clothes out on the porch today because it's so hot."

As she took the ironing board and the clothes out to the porch, she inadvertently hit the bell with the ironing board. The dog took a look at that ironing board, and the guy says he hasn't seen him since!

Thar She Blows!

I spent four years of my working career as a gas turbine generator field representative. In the summer of 1973, I was overseeing a retrofit of several large turbine generators at a peaking plant south of St.Paul, Minnesota. The purpose of a peaking plant is to have power available to bring on line quickly in the event of a power brownout caused by increased demand for electricity.

The summer of 1973 was quite warm, and one day the Twin Cities (Minneapolis & St. Paul, for you non-Minnesotans) were experiencing a power brownout. All of the turbine generators were on line to accommodate the increased demand from air conditioning systems.

One of the plant operators informed me that he had received a vibration warning light on one of the turbines. The light indicated that something was amiss with the number two bearing on the affected turbine generator. The normal procedure is to monitor the situation to see how fast or if the the situation worsens. In this case, the vibration started to increase rapidly, and at the rate it was happening, the bearing and/or the turbine generator were in jeopardy.

My recommendation was to shut it down immediately. The plant manager said to wait, while he got an directive from headquarters. The VP he spoke to said, "We are in danger of a blackout, run it till it blows." I got on the phone to my supervisor, and told him of the developing situation. His answer was: "It's their turbine. It's their call."

By this time we could feel the ground buzzing underneath us. Myself and several others, including the plant manager, had never seen a turbine "blow" before so we went outside to observe.

As we watched, the turbine was shaking so badly that the inch and a quarter hand rails on the catwalks looked to be six inches in diameter. In about one minute, there was a tremendous BANG!!! from within the turbine, that caused all of us to run for cover. Next, there was a horrible mechanical grinding of parts for a few more seconds, and then almost silence as the turbine slowed to a stop.

The shaking caused a fire in the generator enclosure, that was snuffed out by the carbon dioxide fire suppression system. The whole unit was very hot, so I recommended that we wait an hour or more before opening any doors to inspect the damage.

The plant manager was a nervous guy. His patience ran out in about ten minutes, and he opened a door to the generator. As he opened the door, smoke poured out, followed quickly by a ball of fire that nearly engulfed him. He was lucky to escape with only his eyebrows and eyelashes singed off.

Everyone stood back and watched, as the generator burned to crisp, as there was no more carbon dioxide to extinguish the flames. The combination of hot metal from the initial fire, hot oil from a broken bearing oil line, and the fresh air made for a lethal combination.

The fire burned out quickly, and after waiting another hour, we opened up the turbine enclosure to find all seventeen stages of compressor blades and all three stages of turbine blades in the exhaust stack downstream of the turbine. The turbine rotor resembled a corncob.

To make a long story short, it was eleven months and several million dollars later when we started up that turbine again. That was the most extreme example of "run to failure maintenance" I have ever witnessed.

Garbage Can Becomes Projectile

Winters don't seem to be as severe as they were forty years ago. I don't have any theories for why things have changed, but in the 60s' I recall snowfall so extreme in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan that during the course of the winter the streets would become very narrow.

Eventually, there was nowhere to push the snow, so the the street maintenance crew would bring out the "big gun", which was a large FWD industrial snow blower. It had an engine for propulsion and an even larger one for the snow blower.

The snow blower would deposit the snow into the yard of whatever house the driver happened to be passing at the time. As anyone who has used a personnel sized snow blower to remove snow from their driveway realizes, the snow that is blown from the chute becomes very dense where it is deposited.

Bearing that in mind, one can see the comedy of the following description of what occurred on a typical day of street "widening."

The FWD snow blower is slowly progressing up the hill on my street. Overnight, there had been a large snowfall and it had buried our neighbor's steel garbage can that had been placed at the curb the previous day. Because it was buried, my neighbor forgot about it. As the triple augers and four foot impeller advanced on the hidden garbage can, it was suddenly launched from the discharge chute. But, now it was about the size and shape of a basketball.

The can ricocheted off of the compacted snow, and went through my neighbor's picture window at about one hundred miles per hour!

I say the story is funny because my neighbors weren't at home, so no one was hurt in the incident. The village insurance plan took care of repairing the damage, and in the local coffee shop the garbage can incident was all the "buzz" for a couple of days.

Hard Hats Work If You Wear Them

Applying the proper torque to the head bolts of a large twenty cylinder diesel generator package can be a daunting task on a hot day inside the protective enclosure.

If memory serves me there are twelve head bolts per cylinder that need to be torqued to 1200 foot-pounds. The job is simplified by the use of a 12:1 multiplier that is placed over two bolts at a time and rotated around the head until all bolts have been tightened. Even with the multiplier (gear reducer), 100 pounds must be applied with a manual torque wrench, and by the time even a few cylinders were completed, my arms would be feeling the pain.

One particular 95 degree day, my supervisor volunteered to help me. I would pull on the wrench handle, and he would push to get the required 100# of force. It wasn't long before our hands were wet with sweat and my hands slipped off of the wrench just as we were to getting to the click that indicated 100 foot-pounds of torque.

My supervisor was shorter than me and was leaning into the task. The wrench unloaded toward his head, and the handle caught him just above the bill of his hardhat. He was knocked out for a minute, and I shudder to think of the damage that would have been done if he hadn't been wearing his safety headgear.

As it turns out, he ended up with only a headache after a few hours of observation in the emergency room. Over time, my supervisor would laugh along with myself and the rest of the crew, as I described how fast he went down when the wrench hit him.

12 Gauge Drill

The hunting shack that I frequented most was quite remote, as a lot of shacks are even today.

We always were extra cautious to avoid an accident that would require emergency care way out in the sticks. Before the availability of CB radios, we were on our own if someone needed to hauled out due to an emergency. Cell phones were science fiction at that time.

It was two miles to a paved road, and another five miles to the first phone. So, when we got our first CB radio, we all felt a little more comfortable, being able to call for help if necessary, and have an ambulance waiting on the highway.

We brought all the necessary equipment and tools to install our first CB radio on Saturday morning. We were going to run the antenna wire outside the shack to attach it to the antenna. We realized that we had forgotten a brace and bit to drill the hole through the top plate of the wall.

We had no generators back then (no one could afford one), and we certainly didn't have a battery operated drill. As we contemplated who would be going back to town to get the brace and bit, it occurred to me that we did have a drill after all. It was in my gun case. My single shot 12 gauge shotgun.

The older guys immediately said, "You can't use a gun to drill a hole." The young guys said, "Why not?" The older guys replied, "Because that's not the way to do it."

So, we sat around for another ten minutes before one of the older guys said, "What the hell, it's quicker than going back to town."

I loaded a #6 birdshot shell in the gun, put some cotton in my ears, stood inside the shack and placed the barrel two inches from the top plate and squeezed the trigger. Instant hole! End of story.

Please don't try this at home.

Dog With a Habit

My cousin Ernie once owned a black and white Springer spaniel he named Spot. Ernie invited me to go partridge hunting with him one day, and it was clear as we got into the car that Spot loved to hunt. He was beside himself with excitement as we headed to a favorite hunting area.

When we stopped the car and let Spot out, he charged down the road and Ernie said, "Don't worry, he's just letting off steam. He'll be back soon."

In a few minutes, Spot came back, clearly ready for some serious hunting. He started casting back and forth across the dirt road, looking back for approval every couple of seconds. We hadn't been hunting for five minutes when Spot flushed a partridge.

Since the bird was on my side, I swung and shot the bird. Spot retrieved it like a true champion, and I placed it in my game bag.

As we started walking again, I noticed that Spot just walked beside me. He didn't seem to want to be out front. I asked Ernie, "Is he tired already?" Ernie replied, "I forgot to tell you that he needs to take a drag from your barrel before he will start hunting again." I said, "You have got be kidding me!" He said, "No, just point your barrel toward the ground so he can sniff it."

I did so, and Spot took a very long and loud sniff of the residual gunpowder smoke that remained in the barrel. His eyes kind of rolled back for a second, and he was back to serious hunting again.

We bagged a few more birds that day, and every successful shot required a smoke "fix" before we could proceed.

Spot lived to a ripe old age, and was never able to shake his addiction. Truth be known, Ernie never considered therapy either, for fear of Spot losing his edge. Spot was truly one of a kind.

Shaving Cream is a Tool

If you ever find yourself working on a critical piece of equipment, and you are worried about debris, rust or small particles falling into the tiny passages of a casting, try shaving cream!

Just spray the shaving cream into any opening that you want to stay clean, and the foamy material acts as an excellent temporary barrier. If anything does fall onto the cream, it is easy to see, and can be retrieved with the flick of a screwdriver.

The beauty of this tip is that you don't have to worry about getting pieces of shop rags or towels jammed down into the holes where they cannot be extracted, or worse yet, you don't notice! Nobody likes to find out they have to take the darn thing apart all over again to remove a rag!

With shaving cream, just reassemble the machine, and start it up. The shaving cream dissolves instantly, and is mostly air. In 99% of the cases you run into, there is no problem with contamination. This is an old engine rebuilding trick I learned a long time ago. I hope it saves you some misery.

Mine Shafts

When I was in fifth grade, I recall going into an abandoned copper mine shaft with some other fifth graders to watch the older kids throw rocks off the ledge we stood on, to listen and hear how long the rocks took to hit the water below.

To access the ledge, one would have to carefully walk down a steep gravel bank descending into the earth, until it leveled off about twenty feet down. The dangerous part was trying to lean over the edge, without falling into the abyss. As scary as it sounds, no one ever fell over the edge. To this day, I have no idea how deep the the shaft was, but I remember it took quite a while for the rocks to hit the water.

Occasionally, one of the older boys would light a rolled up newspaper, and throw it over the edge. We would watch the flame get smaller and smaller, but we could never see it hit bottom.

Going down into that old shaft was pretty exciting stuff for a fifth grader, but it wasn't long before the school principal found out about it, and had the mining company seal the hole.
As I reflect, the year they sealed the hole was 1953. Little consideration was given to capping all the abandoned shafts back then, and I remember finding another one while hunting with friends in 1972.

Since that time, a concerted effort was made to cap all of the old mine shafts in Michigan's Copper Country, and I don't think you could find an open one today. There is one shaft that you can visit in Hancock, Michigan, that has the shaft blocked with a heavy steel mesh door. It is at the location of the old Quincy Mine, which is a popular tourist attraction. You can get a feeling for the enormous depth of these mine shafts, without the risk to life and limb. Incidentally, the Quincy Mine was closed when it got so deep (over 6000 feet) that it could not longer be effectively cooled, due to the heat generated inside the Earth.

I wonder if others who grew up around mining towns have had similar experiences?

Remember Vision?

Growing up the oldest of five children meant not getting a lot of "store bought" toys to play with. That's not to imply we were poor. We had food, clothing, a roof over our heads and great parents, but there was little left over after the bills were paid.

Consequently, we had to make our own toys, and think of things to do to keep occupied. I know my story isn't unique, but when I consider the changes that have taken place since my grandfather's time to my grand children's, it amazes me.

When my father was growing up, he had little time for play. His after school life was mostly work, mainly to help his family make ends meet. When he had an opportunity to play, it was with homemade items, just like my brothers and sisters, and me.

We had less work to do than my father's generation, but we had regular chores to do before play, and play required imagination.

When I became a father, I kind of followed the style of my parents. My son was free to be a kid, with only minor tasks, such as making his bed starting when he was around seven years old. When he turned twelve, he had to help with the dishes, and I introduced him to the lawn mower, and snow shoveling in winter. Aside from that, there was no other work for him to do.

My son was introduced to computers in ninth grade, but after school, he could take them or leave them. He much preferred hanging out with his friends, shooting hoops, listening to music, and later in his teen years, cruising chicks.

The real changes occurred when my two grandsons arrived. They were born into a totally computerized world. They started computer training at three years old while in day care, like most of the children their age. The older they got, the more computers where available.

After having a class for computers, they could work with shared computers on their breaks. Then computer assignments sort of forced my son to buy a home computer. Pretty soon, it seemed as though my grandson's lives were overrun by computers. Now at ten and twelve years old respectively, if something isn't computerized, it's not worth even so much as a glance.

Oh, and about those chores? You're kidding right?

When they come to visit my wife and I, the very first thing they want to do is get on the computer. It seems that nothing on earth interests as much as much. I wonder what is going to happen on their next visit. I no longer have a home computer. That should be a hoot.

They clearly lack imagination. If you shut off the computer, and tell them to play outside and get some fresh air, as my Mother used to say, it lasts about five minutes. Playing non-computer type games causes them to roll their eyes, so that doesn't work. There is one other thing that will get their attention, and that's a television.

As I observe my grand children and their friends in everyday life, I worry if the lack of imagination that seems to be pervasive in today's "computer society" will have lasting effects when it comes to making the big decisions, say in elected office.

It seems to me that when it comes to deciding what to do about poverty, world hunger and other important things like climate change, the answers might not be available from computers. It will take people with vision and imaination. I hope they are still out there.

Common Sense

In the pre-OSHA years, there were few written guidelines for the wearing of safety equipment. Most people used common sense when it came to what to wear for protection, and precious few wore hard hats, safety glasses or steel toed shoes. Most of what's called personal protective equipment (PPE) today could be worn by welders to protect them from sparks and ultra-violet rays, but that was pretty much it.

Today, few people would be found running a heavy jackhammer without steel toed shoes, because of existing OSHA regulations, and most people do this as second nature. But, that mindset hasn't always been present.

In the summer of 1969, I was a supervisor for a small construction company in Detroit. We were contracted to remove old antiquated stoker boilers from local schools, and replace them with natural gas or fuel oil fired boilers. In most cases, we had to cut a hole in the roof large enough to remove the old boiler. One day, as we were preparing to make a hole, I went up to observe.

I saw immediately that the jackhammer operator had loafers on, and I told him he should be wearing steel toed shoes. Since there was no company policy in place to enforce such a thing, I could only say, "Be careful." when he told me "where to go".

The jackhammers we were using weighed about one hundred pounds. I turned to leave, and hadn't gotten off of the roof, when I heard a scream and looked back to see the operator dancing around on one foot and holding his other one.

It took a while for him to explain what happened, and as we waited for the ambulance he stated that he had used his foot to position the chisel, and when he started the jackhammer he left his foot against it. When the chisel penetrated the four inch thick roof, the one hundred pound hammer landed on his toes initiating the dance. We found later that three of his toes were crushed and he missed six weeks of work.

The point of this story is to wear your PPE, not because you have to, but because it's the "common sense" thing to do.

The Power of Suggestion

I was stationed in Bermuda for twenty-nine months in the US Navy. At that time, the Navy sponsored a civilian forty-foot diesel powered fishing boat called the Fortuna, to take Navy brass or local Bermudian dignitaries on ocean fishing trips.

The day I was transferred to the base, I was asked if I would like to be first mate on the Fortuna. The job meant leaving the dock every Thursday at 6:00 am, and staying out until 3:00 pm. I took the job gladly because fishing was second to breathing for me then, as it is now.

I was introduced to the civilian captain whose name was John. He was an old salt and told me that he would check me out on our first trip and decide whether I'd have a steady job. I found out from my sailor buddies that nobody liked John's salty attitude and that's why the turnover rate was high with first mates.

On our first trip. I did just as I was told and displayed total respect for John. In a few hours, I could see we were going to be great friends. I really wanted to keep the job because it meant being able to leave my regular Navy job behind once a week and go fishing.

We took mostly Captains out on our fishing excursions, and for the most part I was treated great by the upper brass. I baited hooks, landed fish, fetched sandwiches and beer, and generally had a great day.

On one of our trips, we had a know-it-all Captain on board, who decided he would make my life miserable by pulling rank and berating everything I did. I didn't realize until then, the awesome power of suggestion. Captain John asked the Navy Captain if he felt OK. The Captain snapped back, "I feel fine." Captain John waited about fifteen minutes and asked again, "Are you sure you feel fine?" More annoyed, the Navy Captain snapped back, "I feel great. Why do you keep asking?"

John replied, "You look a little green, that's all." In another ten minutes, the Navy Captain stated that he did feel a little strange. John said, "You do look worse." Well, it wasn't more than five minutes and the Navy Captain had his head over the side getting rid of his breakfast. He also said he was done fishing.

As we turned about, John looked at me and winked. "Nobody treats my first mate like a slave." is what the wink implied.

Over the next twenty-nine months, John used his power of suggestion technique several more times when the brass treated himself or me with a lack of respect.

Doctors and Schedules

Recently, my wife underwent eye surgery, and as we arrived early for our predetermined appointment time, we were glad we did. The nurse told us that the doctor had changed his schedule, and that my wife would be operated on one hour early.

I've always subscribed to the rule, "Early's on time, and on time is late", so fortunately we were able to accommodate the new schedule.

As I sat in the waiting room, it occurred to me that doctors are maintenance people, just like me. Doctors maintain bodies and I maintain equipment. I know the skill levels don't compare, but the function does. I thought, "What if I were a maintenance manager, and I arrived at a meeting an hour early, or worse, an hour late?"

This action would be frowned upon, to say the least, and I'm sure it would require an explanation at the plant manager level. I thought, this isn't the first time a doctor wasn't on time, although in my experience this was the very first time one had ever been an hour early.

I was left wondering. Why are doctors never held accountable for being late for an appointment?

I considered that maybe we are intimidated by their education, but then thought we have no qualms about getting in heated discussions with college professors and politicians who have the same or more education. So I ruled that out.

Then I thought maybe if we don't mention their horrible schedule compliance, perhaps there is some benefit beyond our comprehension. My pondering came to a halt when the nurse arrived to say my wifes' surgery went well, and I could visit her in post-op. It occurred to me then, that maybe we give doctors so much leeway to minimize the risk of them making a "mistake" with the scalpel. That seems far fetched to me, and I'm still wondering why we treat doctors differently.

Isn't it strange that we routinely allow people who are chronicly late, often rude, in a hurry, tired and sometimes downright weird take a knife and cut us open while we are sleeping?

Mahogany Ridge

Growing up in Michigans' Upper Peninsula I was exposed to deer hunting stories from early childhood. My father would come home after a day of hunting with his buddies and tell the family about great stalks, successful or not. These stories were told and retold and the ones that became folklore are with me today.

By the time I turned fourteen (legal hunting age at the time), I had completed hunter safety training, which was taught by fathers back then. I was fueled by the desire to make my father proud, and I was ready to enter the ranks of the "deer hunter".

At the end of a day of hunting with my dad and his buddies a couple of years later, I was somewhat puzzled by a statement from one of them. He said, "I guess you won't be running the "Mahogany Ridge" today, right Roy?" My dad looked a little sheepish, as he looked at me and said, "No. I've got to bring my boy home."

I asked my dad on our drive home what the guy meant. He said I would understand when I was older.

Flash to the future.

I'm deer hunting after I got out of the service with my cousin and my friend Jerry. Jerry asked if we were going to run the Mahogany Ridge after we were done hunting. I hadn't heard the term since my teen years, so I asked, "What does that mean?" He said it was a euphamism for leaning on the bar in any local watering hole during deer season, and was an explanation for why so many hunters never filled their tags.

That was my favorite sport in those years, so my ready answer was let's do it. Jerry had never gotton a buck, and this season was no different. So, we ordered a couple of adult beverages and discussed the past day's events.

Jerry must have gotten dehydrated during the hunt, because he over-corrected and soon he needed help getting into his car. My cousin and I drove him home, and when we got to his parent's house, Jerry still couldn't walk. My cousin helped me get Jerry on my back, and I carried him to the front door. It was dark out, and as I walked by a picture window on the way to the door, I heard Jerry's Dad holler, "Hey Ma, Jerry got a buck". His Dad was waiting at the door when I dropped Jerry onto the front steps, and you could have knocked him over with a feather when he saw that it wasn't a buck at all, but his drunk "buckless son", and thus another legend was born.

Small Companies Can Do Maintenance Properly

We work with companies of all sizes, and occasionally even a government or two.

One thing that I have noticed recently, is that small companies really struggle to grasp how they can adopt proactive maintenance practices.

For example, we all know that planned and scheduled maintenance is more effective, less costly and offers a lot of benefits to the site. So, why are the small manufacturers having such a difficult time DOING it?

It's simple, really. If you have only a couple of technicians (or even only one), and there is no supervisor (Production just tells them what to do), how can they plan and schedule? There is no one to do it, right?

Wrong! It is a complete load of horse apples that a small facility cannot do proactive maintenance. It is money well spent to get organized, document your equipment and parts, set aside time to plan and schedule, and manage your maintenance work like a business!

If you are in this situation, take heart! Setting aside adequate time to plan and schedule will increase the speed of work execution by 50-75%, so a single technician could do both. I have personally done this, and it is an absolute fact. Stop making excuses, and get to it.

The only difference between a small operation and a big one is that smaller sites sometimes have to blend the roles and responsibilities so a single person can do two or more things. This can be a challenge, because of competing priorities.

So, manage the business!

Vacation Deja Vu

One dark fall morning, as I was putting gas into my car, an eighteen-wheeler pulled up to the diesel pump next to me. As the driver got out of the cab, I asked him if he had felt his truck strike anything on his run. He said no, and asked why I would ask such a thing. I told him to turn around and look at his truck.

Lodged in the grill was the remains of a six point buck that was one leap from safety. It didn't occur to me then, because the Chevy Chase movie Vacation wouldn't be released for another twenty years, but I made an immediate connection after I had seen the movie.

Because the driver never felt the collision, he had driven for miles with the buck dragging under his front bumper. When he stopped for fuel, all that was left was the head and neck of the deer. The driver was astonished, stating that he had never seen such a thing.

Remember the scene in Vacation where the motorcycle cop pulls Chevy over to ask why there is a leash and collar attached to the rear bumper of his car? It's a film classic.

Understatement

It was sometime around the late 60's. I used to frequent a local coffee shop every morning on the way to work, to meet with friends and listen to the owner of the coffee shop wax philosophical about current and past events.

Joe was the type of guy who would read the headline of some newspaper story and invent the text. His stories were sometimes a few steps removed from what actually occurred, but it made for some good listening.

One day, Joe asked if anyone had heard about the new discovery called a laser. We indicated yes we had, but new little about it. Joe said he read about lasers in a monthly periodical and and was sure that a laser beam was fast! In fact, he said he'd go out on a limb and say that a laser beam was faster than a .30-06 bullet, which was a frame of reference he fully understood.

Those of us who knew that lasers travel at light speed remained silent and those who didn't marveled at this newly acquired gem of trivia. You need to understand that contradicting Joe would result in delayed warm-ups for your coffee, cold toast, looking the other way as you tried to get his attention, or other retaliation until he felt you had payed your dues. Joe never got mad, but he did get even.

Nobreakdowns.com Goes Live!

We passed an important milestone yesterday, when our newly updated website, nobreakdowns.com went live.

Please stop by to check it out, and see the latest new products for maintenance and reliability professionals.

Our new online performance measurement tool, SystemEyes™, is rolling out soon, and offers a revolutionary new way to measure the performance of an entire process, no matter how large or small it is.

The other big news is System in a Box™, offering maintenance professionals a 12-18 month systemization program that includes detailed printed materials, audio coaching via an included Apple™ iPod™, telephone conference calls every month with experienced maintenance coaches, and much more!

Stay tuned for more details!

Why Honey Boy?

My wife's uncle was an engineer on the Rock Island Line for over thirty years. His story about how he got the nickname, Honey Boy, has stuck with him through all of his years of being a train engineer. It is brought up at almost all of the retired Rock Island Line engineer's reunions.

My wife's uncle was a fireman before he became an engineer, and one day the engineer told him that he was going to slow down the train so that my wife's uncle could take a gallon jug of honey from a man waiting up ahead. This was to be done "on the fly", without stopping the train.

Her uncle is poised on the access ladder to the locomotive, with one hand on the railing, preparing to use his other hand to transfer the jug from the waiting beekeeper to the steps of the locomotive.

As the swap was being made, her uncle miscalculated, and the jug hit the railing, breaking and spilling its one gallon of sweet contents all over his body, head to foot.

He had no spare clothes so the resulting ride home was very uncomfortable and sticky to say the least, especially since they were at the start of their twelve-hour shift. The details are lost in the telling and retelling of the story, but one detail remains. My wife's uncle is still called Honey Boy.

Never Use a Riflescope As Binoculars!

As I stated in earlier post, here in Minnesota the firearm deer hunting season is nearly upon us. This a hunting safety tip that I hope every reader will abide by. Once, while hunting my home state of Michigan, I was walking on a river bottom when I happened to look up a steep bank on my left and thought I saw the sun glint off of a mirror.

My curiosity was aroused, so I took out my binoculars to glass the hill, and saw a hunter looking at me through his rifle scope. I started waving my arms franticly and screaming, I'm a man!

The guy said, "I know. I was just trying to see if I knew you." Can you believe his answer? Had I been older, or perhaps had a heart condition at the time, I'm not sure I would be writing this message right now.

Please, never use your scope to watch a person. If you see movement and need to distinguish between a deer or a man, and you see it's a man, stop right there and lower your firearm.

Use some common sense, people!

Safety Training

Those of us in the maintenance field have received, to a large degree, more safety training in one year than our spouses might receive in a lifetime. The training might include ladder safety, stair safety, chemical safety, slipping hazards etc... right on up to first responder training with the CPR practice doll.

Shouldn't we be taking this training while it's fresh in our minds and bringing it home to our spouses and children? Nearly all safety training has some application in the home, except maybe nuclear level detectors.

A busy wife/husband might not have time to take a first responder course, but simply teaching the basics of what you were taught at work might mean the difference between life and death for a child, just like it could make the difference for a fellow worker on the job.

We have ladders, steps, chemicals, power tools and spills at home, just like at our workplace. Take safety home with you everyday. You might be glad you did.

Computers-Ya Gotta Love 'Em

Some maintenance people that are just being introduced to computers probably aren't aware of the fact that they have the greatest maintenance tool in their arsenal right in front of them. New users of computers range from maintenance craftspeople to maintenance managers, and there are more of us than you might think! Don't fight it anymore, this is a great thing to learn!

Information on nearly any product or equipment you might be interested in is just a mouse click away.

I'm not a computer geek by any stretch of the word, but I do know that as I become more confident from daily exposure to computer use, answers to everyday maintenance questions are right at my finger tips. It's a fabulous research tool, because others have done all the hard work of cataloging all of the information. All we maintenance professionals need to do is type in a word or two, hit search, and go along for the ride.

It takes a while for person with little exposure to computers to realize that it's nearly impossible to do harm to today's computers. So, my advice is to use this "new" tool every day to the max! The more you explore the more you will realize why I say this is the greatest tool ever devised for industrial maintenance.

By the way, we hit a milestone in 2006. In 1956, a gigabyte of memory cost $10 million dollars. This year, that same gigabyte of memory costs less than a buck!

Too bad that gasoline has gone the opposite direction :)

Word Power

I'm a morning person, and on a recent Saturday morning I arrived bright and early at the bakery section of my local grocery store to pick up some fresh baked goods. As I looked over the huge selection of mouthwatering treats, it occurred to me that a whole lot of work goes on behind the scenes every day at thousands of bakeries.

Just as I was thinking about that, a lady came out from behind the counter with a flour covered baker's apron and hat, pushing a cart of fresh bread to place on display. I said to her "Thanks for what you do." She stopped dead in her tracks, and and stared at me for a second.

I thought perhaps she didn't understand what I said, but it turns out it was a look of disbelief. She told me she had worked there since the store opened and had never been thanked before by a customer. She said I made her year.

As I sacked my choice of baked goods, I made a mental note to take time to simply say thanks to others in her situation. I can't imagine how it would feel to work at a job and not get a thank you from time to time. By the way, thank you for what you do, too.

Notebook vs Memory

As a member of the Baby Boomer crowd I'm always amazed by the memories of my younger friends. Especially the twenty to thirty year old group. They are capable of going to the grocery store to pick up ten or more items without making a list! The only way I could do that was if I was picking up a ten-pack of something.

I've arrived at the point that if my wife asks me to pick up more than one item, I write it down. Five years ago I could remember three items without writing them down, but now it's down to one.
Without my pocket sized spiral notebook and pencil, I am sunk.

I often wonder if this is the harbinger of something worse? My wife reminds me that I have a lot of other things on my mind, but that's not always so, and yet I still forget. She also reminds me of my fine memory when I was thirty years younger, but I can't remember that either.

I think it's lack of concentration from simply aging that's responsible. So, I say to you older workers, just get a spiral pocket notebook and let that be your paper memory. You will feel less frustrated and be able to engage in normal conversation with someone without repeating your list of things to do in your head over and over as you try to grasp what the person right in front of you is saying.

My paper memory. I never leave home without it.