Itinerant's Still Lame Cow in Cheyenne
Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 9:01 am
Haven't had the time to save my life from the destructive scenario of my left rear wheel ripping free of the hub/stub axle:
I am now in Cheyenne WY, a whole thousand miles since identifying the crack in the drum. The cracks *have* migrated. This one has gone right past the arrow of two days ago:
The upper one in this photograph has managed to stay mostly put, but the lower one has meandered right off the paint:
Am I some kind of idiot? Well, yes. We need to *prepare* the new drums. Here in Wyoming, on an abandoned roadway parallel to I-80, I cleaned the new drums of their protective wax:
I painted the outside surfaces, tested each threaded hole and seasoned them with antiseize (ah, German, they all threaded beautifully):
Inspected the paint's reflectivity off the machined surfaces:
Then drove 328 miles further into the I-80 traverse of the Rockies, which is actually very gradual and poorly vegetated. No big firs and craggy peaks, why it looks (and felt br-r-r-r) like it is about a month after the retreat the of the glaciers:
Found a brief respite from the rain and painted the insides of the drums. Yes, I did wipe the friction surfaces free of paint:
The rain then came down hard and I enjoyed driving past places like "Sinclair, Wyoming" with an appropriate olfactory track of interior smelling fragrant with paint fumes:
I was advised that I had crested the Continental Divide more than once, all up above 7,000 feet:
There was some beauty in the unexpected chill and damp:
I do not mind the aesthetic destruction of ridges, not when it is 56* and raining. It is a better way to keep you all warm in your houses.
Chloe has been running so well, mile after mile, hill climb after hill climb, hour after hour, I felt a little pang of empathy as I drove past this unfortunate moment in Grandpa and Grandma's trip:
If I get the drums ON TODAY, I will let you know . . .
I am now in Cheyenne WY, a whole thousand miles since identifying the crack in the drum. The cracks *have* migrated. This one has gone right past the arrow of two days ago:
The upper one in this photograph has managed to stay mostly put, but the lower one has meandered right off the paint:
Am I some kind of idiot? Well, yes. We need to *prepare* the new drums. Here in Wyoming, on an abandoned roadway parallel to I-80, I cleaned the new drums of their protective wax:
I painted the outside surfaces, tested each threaded hole and seasoned them with antiseize (ah, German, they all threaded beautifully):
Inspected the paint's reflectivity off the machined surfaces:
Then drove 328 miles further into the I-80 traverse of the Rockies, which is actually very gradual and poorly vegetated. No big firs and craggy peaks, why it looks (and felt br-r-r-r) like it is about a month after the retreat the of the glaciers:
Found a brief respite from the rain and painted the insides of the drums. Yes, I did wipe the friction surfaces free of paint:
The rain then came down hard and I enjoyed driving past places like "Sinclair, Wyoming" with an appropriate olfactory track of interior smelling fragrant with paint fumes:
I was advised that I had crested the Continental Divide more than once, all up above 7,000 feet:
There was some beauty in the unexpected chill and damp:
I do not mind the aesthetic destruction of ridges, not when it is 56* and raining. It is a better way to keep you all warm in your houses.
Chloe has been running so well, mile after mile, hill climb after hill climb, hour after hour, I felt a little pang of empathy as I drove past this unfortunate moment in Grandpa and Grandma's trip:
If I get the drums ON TODAY, I will let you know . . .