Flat tire, split rims, no brakes, tempermental choke and all.
I've spent hundreds of hours sitting on this piece of plywood and operating this machine.
No brakes was never a problem, but its touchy choke and carburetor are beyond my mechanical ability to conquer, and now my baby just takes up room in the car port. So, a barter was in order.
It took this fellow's hands to speak to it. Started right up for him.
And his son drove it out of the car port on the way to its new home. Time for me to get rid of stuff.
Onto the highway, dropping pieces as it went--the ring for the flat tire split rim, and then the tire itself.
There goes my baby,
rolling off, down the road,
It's close enough to visit, so my heart, while empty, isn't broken.
Lots of forklift memories today. A pet magpie, injured after falling from its nest, loved the forklift. It would come hopping across the yard whenever I started it. The magpie, a badly-healed broken leg sticking out to the side, couldn't fly, but it could sure hop. Somehow, it could get up on the steering wheel, where it would take naps. Sure wish I had a photo of that.
Now, this was a long time ago. At least 30 years! We'd come across a car that had run off the road after the driver fell asleep. We used the forklift to pull the front fender away from the wheel so they could be on their way. Note the wrenches in my husband's hands and his dirty Levis.
Weeks later, we received this photo and a thank you note from the occupants.
Lots of changes since then. My husband replaced the propane engine with a gasoline engine, and I removed what was left of the white paint. We painted it yellow and black.
|Hard at work on the forklift.|
Ah, my beloved forklift. But, boy, is it going to be easier to park the RV trailer in the car port!