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So, I bought a truck. Not one of those lame new trucks though, I bought a beautiful old truck. A 1953 Dodge B-series 1/2 ton to be exact. She's awesome, and in great shape for being 55 years old. Of course she doesn't actually run, or start for that matter. Her brakes don't work. Nothing electrical works. She's got rust, though only one area of the passenger door is actually rusted through, otherwise just surface rust. Her bed is rotted out. The covering on her bench is shot. All her interior panels need to be replaced (if they're there at all). Sadly she is missing her hood ornament. The accelerator doesn't move. You know, the usual.

But at the same time, I think I already love her. She doesn't look like that picture any longer. I've pulled off all of the body pieces and have them stacked around my garage. I work on her when I can, covering myself in grease, rust, and dirt and of course a smile.

Here's a story that epitomizes our relationship. Last night I was working on removing the Driver's side door. Of course you need to remove this to get at the final bolts that hold on the front fender. Which in turn needs to come of so you can get access to the bolts holding on the grill. And all this needs to come of so you can pull the engine. Which needs to come out so you can get out the transmission. And the transmission needs to leave so you can work on the frame, etc, etc, etc.

Anyway, I'm working on the door right? Well the best way to remove the door is by driving out the hinge pins. Sounds easy enough, but then that doesn't take into account 55 years of rust and grit. The passenger side door hinge pins came out easy enough. Lube the hell out of them with WD-40, tap them with a hammer, and use a punch to drive them out. Done and done. For some reason though, the driver's side isn't that easy. I had given up a few days ago, and had left them to soak in their WD-40. Today I pounded on the upper one, and it moved. Hell yeah. I drove it out and all was good. I moved on to the lower one. I'm pounding away, but it's not moving. More WD-40, more pounding, and still not moving.

I try this for a good 15-20 minutes. Nothing. Screw this, those bolts right there, see them? Yeah, those hold this hinge on right? Let's just take those off instead and I can drive out this hinge pin later (I forgot to mention that this pin is in a difficult area to access. On the inside of the door, it's nestled between the door and the frame. To make matters worse, the support for the running board is right in the arc of your hammer and so blocks you from getting a good hit). I wrench free the four bolts, but nothing happens. The hinge is still attached. WTF. A visually examination reveals nothing. A tactile examination also reveals nothing. There's got to be a way to remove this hinge, I just don't know it.

Fine, the bolts don't do anything. I'm just going to have to drive this pin out the hard way. Back to the hammer and punches. Pounding and pounding, but nothing. I stop, stare at it hoping that I can figure something out, but there's really nothing to figure out. After all, this isn't rocket science, it isn't something that can be riddled out. There's only one way that pin is coming out, and that's by pounding it out. More WD-40, I start pounding. Each impact sprays a fine film of rust laden WD-40 all over me and the truck. I'm at my patience end.

I stop, rest, and let my temper subside (perhaps a useless tool case saw my bad side, but it's not talking).

All right, this pin isn't coming out on it's own (nor with my help it seems). I grab the grinder thinking I can cut it out, but because of the afore mentioned positioning of the hinge, I can't bring the grinder the bear on it. Shit. I'm cussing now, and feel a little despair growing in my gut. Fine. I angrily pound at the hinge pin. It moves a little.

It gives me an idea. I pound the pin as far as I can and then reverse it. I drive the pin back into place. Add some WD-40 and repeat. The third or fourth time I feel the end of the pin. I think it's further in. I'm excited. I escalate the process. I pound away. It's not going any further. I want to give up.

Screw that. No little pin is stopping me. I methodically go back at it. After three more cycles I'm pounding on one of my longer punches. Wait, did that strike sound different? Didn't that sound like the pin shifted? Hmm, don't get your hopes up. For good measure I give it a few more hits. And then I measure how far the punch is going in. Yes, that's surely deeper.

Three more cycles of pounding it back and forth, lubing it up with some WD-40 each time. And now I hear it, the pin is moving a tiny amount with each hit. You can tell, the way the punch rings with each hit. The tones is a little different when the pin moves. And then I look. That motherfucker is most definitely moving. I pound away, each strike lifting my heart a little more. And then with a glorious ring, the pin is free. I lift the greasy rust covered sucker grasping it triumphantly in my greasy rust covered hands and raising it above my head.

I give a heartfelt yell. I feel awesome. I just spent almost an hour and a half driving one little pin out of my trucks door hinge, and I feel incredible. It's funny, sometimes you can work on one thing for 10 minutes and feel like you've wasted your time, and then others you can spend hours on, and even if it's something that most people would see as trivial, to you it's time well spent.

I don't know what it is, but there was something in that moment. Something utterly ridiculous, but for me, something incredible. I know most people see my truck and they see a collection of rusted and dirty parts, hours of thankless labor, maybe many dollars to be spent. For me though, it's different. I look at her and I see the magic of holding a rust hinge pin a loft in my cold and dirty garage and I smile.

I think today might qualify as the worst day of work ever. In fact it's been a great start to my week I think. Here's what's going down, the HVAC system has been off line all day.

Now, I know there are worse problems in the world, but then I'm not trying to compare mine to those problems. I just feel like bitching. And feel very justified in fact. So in most buildings on a cool November day, like today for instance, if the HVAC system wasn't running it wouldn't be too bad. Probably a little bit cool, and definitely stuffy. Well this is not the case with my building. I share my lab with a bunch of equipment that is always running and generates a lot of heat. We have two varieties of freezers (-20 and -80 degree C) a couple of different refridgerator, as well as incubators (32 ands 37 degree C). So looking over at the thermostat on the wall I see that it's a not very pleasant 87 degree F in my lab right now.

That sucks.

I'm sweating while sitting at my desk doing nothing. I feel like a fat person eating. And I know I complained before about always spending my days in a 72 degree climate controlled box, well this is worse. Give me climate control over sweaty stuffy heat.

To top is off, I'm pretty tired and the heat is making it hard to stay awake. Poor me. Life's just not fair some times.

I just realized that it's been quite a while since I posted last. I apologize for my lack of regularity, it happens sometimes. And in fact it kind of ties in with what I was thinking about today. I know this is a topic I've brought up before, but then it seems to be a rather central theme to my life, so deal with the repetition.

I've been reading this book, Truck: On Rebuilding a Worn-Out Pickup and Other Post-Technological Adventures, and it's actually pretty good. If you're wondering why I read such a book, well it's because I have a plan of buying an old truck from the 40's or 50's and fixing it up as my work truck. Any, back on topic. The interesting thing about this book, other then random anecdotes and lots of talk about the frustration of rebuilding anything, was the parallels with life in general. In fact it invokes Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (which if you haven't read, you should, even though it can drag).

There are primarily two central ideas in Zen. First that there is an idea of quality, and this idea is what should be the driving force in everything we do and make. And second, the idea of gumption. Gumption is the driving force that brings us to do anything. It is only with full gumption that we are ever able to achieve quality.

Now take a look at truck. It mirrors Zen in many ways, from the obvious that one is about repairing a motorcycle and the other is about rebuilding a truck. But more deeply they both explore the concepts of not only what is worth doing, but how one must work to accomplish it. In truth I feel that Robert Pirsig (author of Zen) does a more thorough job of elucidating the more intellectual concepts then does John Jerome (author of Truck). But then, I think that was also his goal. Anyway, I'm not interested in writing a book report, if your curious, by all means read the books and I'll discuss them.

The thing that strikes me in both it the idea of keeping up motivation. I'll use Pirsig's term, because I like it. Gumption. Here's the way he sees it, and I feel he is quite right about it. Gumption is like a reservoir of motivation. Before beginning a project this reservoir fills and initiates your action. Then as you work the reservoir drains away to feed your efforts, much like water in a hydroelectric dam. The problem comes when you push too hard, or go too long. You tend to run your gumption dry and then you stuck.

A good personal example of this is my most recent kitchen remodel in what is now our old house. I wanted to add a dishwasher to make life easier (doesn't always seem that you have to make your life more difficult to in turn make it easier?). To do this there were a couple of obstacles to overcome. The existing counter had to be ripped out and a new one built to accommodate the dishwasher (in addition to plumbing and running electrical for the dishwasher). Then the kitchen also was not completed from the last remodel, so I also had to agree to complete all the work previously left undone. To top it off I wanted to pull out the tile counter tops that were falling apart and put in some new wooden one I would make. All in all a fair amount of work, but by no means un-doable. I took a week off work thinking that I could finish it all in one week (my first mistake). There was no way I could complete the work in that time frame, but I tried any way. I pushed myself as hard as I could, and by the end of the week I had burnt through my gumption so severely that I'm not sure it will ever come back for that project. Now I see the things I've not finished and I'm not sure what it would take to get me to work on them again.

Here I am faced with the lessons from both books. Never force yourself to continue when all gumption is gone. In fact, never let your gumption sink too low. The idea is to lead yourself along. Instead of working until you can't stand to work anymore, stop a little early. If something starts going wrong, rest, let your gumption build back up before tackling it again. Make sure you never wear yourself out. If you stop early, when you just begin to feel tired of the project, and maybe even a little hungry to keep working, and take a good rest your gumption will build back up and next time you under take the project you'll enjoy it more and things will go more smoothly and more successfully.

Properly managed, your tasks shouldn't wear you down and the dread won't build up. Part of the problem I think is that in general people underestimate the amount of time a given project will take. In the example I gave of the kitchen remodel, if I had been realistic and said that instead of one week of work that there were two or even three weeks of work I would have not pushed myself too hard. I would not have tried to get too much done, and I wouldn't have grown to hate the project. I know this is true. I don't mind remodeling, in fact I generally enjoy it. But then there are those projects I push too hard on, and can never get myself to finish them.

In Truck John Jerome faces the same problem with the truck he is working on. He tries to finish it too quickly, and burns himself out. It takes a six month break before he is ready to get back to it and actually finish the truck. I think anyone who has taken on a long and involved project knows that feeling.

All right, so now I have a basic idea of how I work. Does it help? Not really... Yet I think. It's one thing knowing how you should operate, and another thing entirely actually doing so.

And so this has become a sort of mantra for me. Especially now that I'm getting ready to undertake my own truck rebuild, a project that could well take a year or two to complete. Forcing yourself to burn intensely for a short period and tearing through the work is easy. Turning it down and sustaining it at a level that not only keeps you going, but keeps you enjoying and doing quality work, now that's a horse of a different color.

This is why I think most people stop enjoying their hobbies when they turn them into their livelihoods. It easier to maintain a lower level when you have to make time to do something then it is to do the same when all you have is time.

That ends our lesson for today. So remember class, slow and steady wins the race.

So lately, not counting today, I have not been keeping up on blogging. There is a pretty good reason for this: I've been busy (or at least distracted). About three weeks ago now Jenny came home and told me she had found a house she wanted to buy. Half just humoring her, I went and looked at this house. It was a monster craftsman bungalow, probably close to 3000 square feet. From the outside you could see the potential. My interest was grabbed. We started poking around. We walked down the little path besides the house that led to the back yard. Out we step into a concrete wonder land. There's a pool (of the normally above ground variety) that has been half buried and surrounded with concrete. Next to this is a large water feature made of rocks and concrete. And next to that a concrete patio. 'No way', I say, 'are we buying this house'. I imagine hours of back-breaking labor trying to break out and remove all that concrete.

But the seed had been planted, and in fertile ground. It sprouted and we began searching houses. I told Jenny, 'We're going to do this different then last time. No looking for two weeks and then buying. We're going to take our time and find the perfect place.' With those sage and prophetic words we began looking, on our own. Last time we bought a house the market had been so hot that houses sold in a day, Realtors were like sharks, and we just chum in the water. It was a feeding frenzy every time we called to see a house. They'd hassle you mercilessly when they found out you didn't have a Realtor. This time things were different. The market is a buyers market. Houses sit routinely for months before selling. Realtors are civil and polite.

Anyway we look, and drive by many houses. And then on the third or fourth day I see it. I come across a listing for a house that looks perfect. Even by just seeing the RMLS add I knew I wanted. I call and set up an appointment. On the way there I tell Jenny, 'I'm 87% certain we are going to be buying this house.' We get there and meet the sellers. The show us around. It's a beautiful old farm house built in 1903. It's much bigger then our current house. It has a big garage, and a basement with his and her craft rooms. I am fully in love with this house by the end of the tour. Now I am 100% certain I want this house (remember those 'prophetic' words I spoke earlier? I was being facetious). Now I have to convince Jenny.

I set up 10 house viewings for the weekend and we go through them all. By the end of it she's convinced. We call the sellers; problem There's another offer, and they have already have a buyer for their house. Crap. We don't have a buyer. We could offer, but it wouldn't be strong enough with out a buyer. Wait. What about my parents? They've been talking for years about buying a house in Portland and renting it to one of my sisters. I call my Dad (actually my Mom first, she's easier) and try and work it out. We crunch numbers, look at figures, look at the thing from the bottom and from the top, but no, it's not going to work. My Dad says no.

The house I've been fantasying about (I had literally been dreaming about it, both the night and day varieties) suddenly began to dissolve in my mind. We were not going to get the house. Shit. We were heart broken (by now Jenny too had fallen in love with the house, after all it is perfect for us). We go to bed thinking that we've lost the house. And then it happens. I wake up around 4AM, restlessly tossing in bed. And it hits me. We don't have to sell our house at full price. We only need 75K for a down payment. I get out of bed and email my Dad and go back to sleep.

In the morning I call the seller and tell them the scoop. 'There's still a chance', I say, 'but I can't guarantee anything'. Fine they say, but we need to know by 1PM or we will accept the other offer. No pressure or anything. I call my Dad. He likes the idea. We can work something out he says. Elated I call the seller back, 'It so on', I say (I think I worded it differently though). Are you sure? Not sure at all, but knowing I have to commit, I say yes. Fine, we will reject the other offer and accept yours.

I did it.

And from there it's all been formalities (actually a lot of pains in my ass, but pretty much the same thing). Anyway, I think you can see why I haven't been writing much lately. My thoughts have been filled up with mortgages, credit ratings, house inspections, wheeling and dealing. I'm not so sure you'd want to be reading that stuff, though I could be wrong. Things are settling down again now. So I think I'll probably be writing more in the near future. We'll see.