PA-10
Registered User
Jacksonville, Fla.
Yesterday was not a good day of building.
I'm thoroughly enjoying building my J-3 replica. It's a Light Miniature Aircraft model LM-J3-W (www.lightminiatureaircraft.com) and I have about 480 hours into the project with tail feathers, fuselage, seats, and landing gear pretty much complete.
I just hate it when you get 99% finished with fabricating a part, and the one ingredient you need to complete it fails on you.
I fabricated two tiny clip angles to replace parts that I had made months earlier, incorrectly as it turned out. Aluminum angle, cut and drilled. Two hours of various tasks (measuring, etc. You know how it goes.) I get the parts ready to zinc chromate, and grab the fresh, never-opened spray can. The plastic cap is, as usual, far too securely attached to remove without tools and/or percussive action. Not unlike opening a brand new compact disc.
After much struggle, I eventually get the cap off, and the spray nozzle plummets to the shop floor and immediately rolls under the work table like a terrified rat seeking safety. With the clutter of unused material, dust, sawdust, venomous spiders, and things I don't even want to know about lurking in this nether region, I am not about to go fishing for the nozzle. I grab my empty can of zinc chromate and yank the nozzle off of it. This nozzle worked and was clear within the last 24 hours, so there's no reason it should give me any trouble.
I step outside, and with old nozzle on new can the act of gently pressing the nozzle into the hole causes the can's contents to immediately begin dousing my hand with unshaken paint. It's bypassing the nozzle and fanning out like a lawn sprinkler. Like a hand touching a hot stove, I yank the nozzle off. Then I attempt numerous re-nozzle-ostomies, but none take. The can rejects the tissue. Finally, I try brute force. With a paper towel (I do learn from mistakes) held over the business end of the can, I mash the nozzle in. Newly liberated paint enjoys its sudden freedom and seems intent on showing me its gratitude by smothering me. The towel is quickly soaked in green as well.
With the nozzle firmly in place, I discover that it will not resume the "off" position. Zinc chromate is filling the springtime air of the back yard, choking the birds and squirrels. In disgust, I throw the can onto the concrete and walk inside..
So now I have a thick comet-shaped patch of green paint on the driveway in front of the garage that will one day leave archaeologists scratching their heads.
I'm thoroughly enjoying building my J-3 replica. It's a Light Miniature Aircraft model LM-J3-W (www.lightminiatureaircraft.com) and I have about 480 hours into the project with tail feathers, fuselage, seats, and landing gear pretty much complete.
I just hate it when you get 99% finished with fabricating a part, and the one ingredient you need to complete it fails on you.
I fabricated two tiny clip angles to replace parts that I had made months earlier, incorrectly as it turned out. Aluminum angle, cut and drilled. Two hours of various tasks (measuring, etc. You know how it goes.) I get the parts ready to zinc chromate, and grab the fresh, never-opened spray can. The plastic cap is, as usual, far too securely attached to remove without tools and/or percussive action. Not unlike opening a brand new compact disc.
After much struggle, I eventually get the cap off, and the spray nozzle plummets to the shop floor and immediately rolls under the work table like a terrified rat seeking safety. With the clutter of unused material, dust, sawdust, venomous spiders, and things I don't even want to know about lurking in this nether region, I am not about to go fishing for the nozzle. I grab my empty can of zinc chromate and yank the nozzle off of it. This nozzle worked and was clear within the last 24 hours, so there's no reason it should give me any trouble.
I step outside, and with old nozzle on new can the act of gently pressing the nozzle into the hole causes the can's contents to immediately begin dousing my hand with unshaken paint. It's bypassing the nozzle and fanning out like a lawn sprinkler. Like a hand touching a hot stove, I yank the nozzle off. Then I attempt numerous re-nozzle-ostomies, but none take. The can rejects the tissue. Finally, I try brute force. With a paper towel (I do learn from mistakes) held over the business end of the can, I mash the nozzle in. Newly liberated paint enjoys its sudden freedom and seems intent on showing me its gratitude by smothering me. The towel is quickly soaked in green as well.
With the nozzle firmly in place, I discover that it will not resume the "off" position. Zinc chromate is filling the springtime air of the back yard, choking the birds and squirrels. In disgust, I throw the can onto the concrete and walk inside..
So now I have a thick comet-shaped patch of green paint on the driveway in front of the garage that will one day leave archaeologists scratching their heads.