Gang aft a-gley

This is a '64 Chevy Truck Transmission. A 4 Speed, even. The other stuff is not the subject here. Many years ago this tranny had been grafted into a '53 Chevy Truck. It was a nice combination, lots of low end torque and all that. But one day, disaster struck, as it seems want to do, and this classic bit the dust. I was saddened by this, of course, but did not despair. After a time, I located a '70 model that seemed to fit in the budget. It was a rust-bucket of course, and had a 3 speed transmission that was prone to jump out of 1st gear. But, having swapped transmissions and even engines out under the old Oak Tree, I thought "no problem". I had this functioning 4 speed and the change would result in an even better truck. Alas, after I had removed the faulty member, I realized with dismay, that the shifter would come up though the firewall, instead of the floorboard.
Now, years later, the '70 Chevy is history, but the transmission remains. I suppose someday we will haul it to the scrap-yard. I'm so lucky to be married to an understanding woman.

River Walk

Rainy day. Gloomy sky, everything is wet and grey. Rain dripping from the roof, splashing on the bricks below. But yesterday was beautiful, so beautiful we had to take a walk along the river. It's good to get away, into the woods. This time of year with most of the leaves gone, you can see beyond the little place where you're standing, kinda get the big picture. This is the Broad River. They've made a really nice place along here with a trail that follows the river for several miles. In the summer it is a great place to cool off. There are some picnic tables spread out along the river, but you better get there early on a weekend. A lot of people tube down the river, and you might see a kayak or canoe. Our son let me barrow his kayak and that was a lot of fun. I am amazed how easily one can paddle upstream around the rocks and everything. I took my Sweetie down the river once in a canoe. We bounced off a few rocks and now she won't do it again. This time of year it's pretty quiet though.
We did see a couple geese out there, and this fellow was catching a few rays.

Final Destination

Let's just say, we've been furiously grabbing garbage for several hours now. The packer has been packing and packing, but can only do so much. If we don't do something we will have garbage blowing out of the top of the truck all over town. It's time to take a ride in the country. We run the packer blade all the way back, and if we haven't gone too far with things, it should seal everything safe in the truck. This is important because the police frown on littering.
When we get there, we will have to run over the scale. For some reason they must keep a careful account of just how much stuff comes out here. A big reason is money. The County charges by the pound for garbage. But we have to pay them. This seems somehow wrong. I mean, this is our garbage, and we are delivering it to them. They don't even have to go get it themselves. But be that as it may, we will have to sign a ticket, and they will bill the city. Threatening to just keep our garbage won't help.
Now we'll travel down a dusty road, cross a creek, and eventually wind up on top of a hill that used to be a big hole. After they dug the huge hole, great sheets of some kind of rubber looking stuff were spread out on the ground, then garbage, and more garbage. There is a system that collects the water that ends up in here, and pumps it out. That's not my problem and I'm not sure what they do with it. It's probably really exiting, but, like I said, that's not my problem.
This is where the birds are. It's cool to see the buzzards hanging out in the dead trees. There weren't any around when I had the camera, so you'll just have to take my word for that. We will dump our garbage out on the ground along with everyone else's, and unless it looks like there is something good in there, they will run over it and crush even more with these big crusher things. This is one parked. It's probably tore up. All this kind of stuff seems to tear up a lot. We keep our mechanics busy too.
Finally they will cover all the garbage with dirt. And that will be that. Out of sight, out of mind.

I'm not sure why I wrote all this stuff about garbage, and I only scratched the surface. I do have a life other than this, but someone once said to write about what you know, so I maybe I got this out of the way now.

On The Route

Hello again. Now we are out on the "route". We've left the "Shed" and made it though town without incident. (Just as a side note, our modern facility is sometimes referred to as the "Shed" by the few old hands who remember when it really was a shed. Back then we worked out of an old tin building with little heat and rats in the walls. But all that is in the past, now we've got running water and everything.)
This is what we see as we make our way along the street. The cans are actually pretty easy to get when they are like this. You just pull up along side and grab 'em. The problems start when they are next to a tree, or maybe a mailbox for example. The arm on this truck is capable of doing major damage. Once I made toothpicks out of a 4x4 post. I'm not proud of this, but, like they say "stuff happens". Even one of those killer brick mailboxes is no match for a garbage truck on a rampage. People seem to think that if they can squeeze the can between a tree and a mailbox, everything is cool. But of course it's not. Sometimes people park their car in front of their garbage can. This is a stupid thing to do. When they find it still full of garbage, they call our office on the telephone and say we "missed" their garbage. But with our modern technology we have a Radio in the truck, and we keep a list of what, and why, and where.
This is what you see when you grab a can. You have to work with the mirror, but this is no problem, you get used to it pretty quickly. You can see the powerful jaws in action. As soon as you have a grip on it, you jerk it up off the ground, and dump into the hopper. On a good day most of it goes in. This would be a good place to bitch about those Styrofoam "peanuts", but I don't think I want to go there.

Next time we'll visit the Landfill.

Really Getting Into This

As you probably realize, we finally made it into the truck. This is not one of those flip-flopy things, we really are on the right side. Of course in this case, the right side, is the right side. Since all our cans will be on the right side, we need to be on the right side also. This takes some getting used to, unless maybe you have some experience with the postal service. When I first started doing this, I rode home on my bike, so I didn't really "re-normalize" and scared the doodoo out of my sweetie when we got into a normal vehicle.
The thing with the three buttons that grabs your attention is what works the arm. I guess it's a little like a video game. I don't play video games. Pull back, it goes up, push is down, side to side, is in and out. Sounds simple but can get hairy in a hurry. If you have to grab a can that is close to anything, there is a good chance you'll accidentally destroy it. It happens. Your yellow button grabs, green lets go. The red cycles the packer. On the far left, there is a thing that resembles a tiny computer monitor, this can be set to pack automatically. This is not a good idea, since it will happen when you don't want it to. Just remember to use the red button as needed and you won't have garbage falling out all over the place. You can see when you need to do this in this TV-looking thing. Mostly you use this to see if the garbage is falling out of the can so you don't put it down too quick, and throw garbage everywhere. You can also see behind the truck when you have to back up. And you will have to back up more than you want to.
The other knobs and switches are normal truck stuff, Heater, Fan, and even Air Conditioning ! Wow ! Nice in the summer. And most importantly is some stuff to lock all the differentials and axles and stuff. This is so you can get really good and stuck before they have to pull you out of the mud with the bulldozer at the landfill.

More really great stuff in the future !

Modern Times

Here is our fleet of modern, state of the art, Garbagetrucks. On the right is one of the older rearloaders that is actually still in use. With these new wonders, the "operator" (not referred to as "driver") pulls along side a can, grabs it, and dumps it into the top of the truck. Then, does it again, and again, and so forth.
This is a shot of these trucks warming up, at dawn, anticipating an exciting and productive day.
Until recently, this function was performed by a crew of 4 men, a driver, and three "pullers". Back then, the residents of this fair city had the luxury of backyard pickups. This meant that they had the option of hiding their trash in difficult locations anywhere on their properties and it would miraculously disappear once a week. This was known as "Pulling Garbage" or "Pulling a Buggy". That was how I broke into the business myself. The first change was the "rollout" step. Now all cans must be rolled to the curb (if there s a curb). The city now provides these "rollout" cans to the residents but they have to pull them to the street themselves. This was not well received in all quarters, but it is now a fact of life. Now there was a 3 man crew, a driver and 2 hands on the back. Lest one thinks this is a cruel and heartless business, there is a provision for "handicapped" pick up where a crew does the back yard thing for folks who can convince the city that they are incapacitated somehow. This is much abused of course. One of the old rearloaders is used for this and to work in the business district.
The last step, which was the plan from the beginning, was the new trucks, a one man operation.

In the future, (if there is one) we'll get into the truck.

Garbagical Historical

Back then, before my own involvement incineration was the going thing. This was a state of the art facility in that bygone era. I can only guess that in those more innocent times, hazardous, choking, fumes were not a major concern. As one can see, this facility is no longer in use.
There are places these days where, I hear, they burn the trash to make electricity. This was not that sort of place. This must have been a fairly common arrangement back then. I remember going with my father to a similar facility in another town. They would push the garbage down through a hole in the floor. It made me think of Hell. But that was years ago.
Here is a closer look at what's left of the guts of this thing. I suppose in it's day, this spot contained it's own bit of Hell. Not today however, it was a cold day when I visited.
There are all those ruins in Greece, and Rome that people go to see. We have our own here, although they don't seem to
have as much class. But they are a lot closer. I sometimes wonder what future generations might think about our debris. Of course, this place might be a cinder by then anyway.

Next time we'll look at equipment.

Undercover

Wecome to the magic of Kudzu. That is not a thatched roof down there, but part of the "Green Revolution". It appears to be taking over the world. This could be a good thing in it's own way, I suppose. Green vegetation could help with this "Climate Change" stuff. And this will be green enough when the weather warms up. But for now we can see the underlying facts better.
They say this stuff can be useful and all. I guess it does slow erosion which was the original idea. They say one can eat it, but I've never know any one who does. Except goats, they like it. When it blooms it smells a lot like grape jelly. It just doesn't know when to quit.
I couldn't find an entry for "kadzu" in the Wikipedia, which I couldn't believe, then I realized I was spelling it wrong. I had a lot of problems in school with that sort of thing. So it is there after all if anyone is unfamiliar with the stuff at - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kudzu#Kudzu_as_an_invasive_exotic . I suppose there is a way to make this a direct link, but I don't know how to do that either. Hey, the 20th century was complicated enough.

The Garbage Series is coming soon.

Coming soon

A Closer look at Garbage from an insider.

No Coal

This is the Coal Yard. So where is the coal ? That's what I want to know. I've been watching all winter, wanting to pick up a load of that unPC, greenhouse gassing, smelly old house warming fuel. It's dirty, but it burns so hot. You can leave what you don't burn outside, and it won't rot till next year, or many years. But there is no coal. When I stop by, the gate is locked. When I call on the telephone all I hear is an answering thing, promising to call me back, a promise never kept. At one time there was a mountain of coal under this machinery, now, zip.
A lot of people think burning coal stinks. Maybe it does. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a whiff triggers something. Something I can almost remember, but I'm not sure. Something out of the past. Something about Railroads and the Big City, and a River. Maybe it's lost now.
But it sure makes that stove feel good on a cold night.

Sunny Wood

The winter woods are a lot different than the summer, Duh. Here we would have cool shade, a welcome relief from the midday heat. Today, that bright sunshine feels really good. You can also see what's around you. I've seen a lot of deer tracks but of course no deer. They hide pretty well. The few green trees stand out and are a nice contrast to all the brown and grey. I was just out walking, and this view caught my eye and I thought I'd share it.
No snow here. I hear they have ten feet in the old country. I think I'd like to see some, but not that much I'm sure.

Out on a Limb

That blue spot about halfway up the tree would be The Fuzz. That green thing hanging below him is a chainsaw. You may wonder what any sane person would be doing hanging from a tree with a dangerous piece of power equipment, but don't mistake The Fuzz for a sane person. Those little blossoms we've been seeing do hold the promise of spring, but 20' is still 20'. Which of course means heat, which means fire, which means fuel, which means in this case, wood. Now it is true that wood can be obtained by driving the truck to our little wood lot in the country, but this wood is in our own back yard, kinda close like. And when one considers that my Sweetie has a desire for a bit more sun in this area, it all comes together rather nicely.
When one is in the woods, it is not usually real important how a tree falls except as a matter of convenience. One wants it close to the truck, but not on top of it. In a case like this though, it becomes a bit more critical. It's not so much how far the wood must be carried, but more a matter of not destroying one's house, or perhaps an important outbuilding. Once it is down, it's too late, it stays where it is. I think there is some sort of proverb about that. So we have a certain target area, that is a certain size, and a tree must sometimes be adjusted so it falls within those parameters. That is what is happening here.
In my younger days, (not that I'm over the hill yet) I got a hold of some cool things that one can strap to one's legs and, in theory, climb right up any old tree like a cat, or a squirrel maybe. It can be pretty exciting and I came close to killing myself a couple times. But that is another story. This time I had concerns about some of these limbs removing the windows in the West Wing. I also hoped to save our pitiful little pear tree. My well thought out plan was to remove most of these larger limbs and maybe take out the top before dropping the remnant neatly into the allotted space. All went according to plan until with one more limb to remove, I was betrayed by my chainsaw.
Operating a chainsaw in a tree is the sort of thing I tend to take rather seriously, nice and slow and deliberate like. I almost cut part of my foot off once, but that's another story too. But nothing like that happened here. This was merely a case of equipment failure. No matter what I tried, I could not get the thing to work. I checked the gas, I tried all the appropriate words, still nothing. There was nothing to do but return to the ground. Well, I needed the rest anyway. I probably don't have to mention, that on the ground, it cranked with the second pull. Such is life.We cut up the limbs, and will leave the rest for another day. Probably just drop it like it is. It looks like it will be OK now.
The Fuzz is a bit of a tree hugger actually. Here he is out on a limb contemplating his next move.

Getting the Point

For any one who has not had the pleasure, this is that infamous Brier Patch, the sort of place where that Rabbit of Renown made good his escape. This is the source of those delicious Blackberries that stain the fingers and faces of those Happy Summer Young'uns. But, note the

deadly spikes that defend these treats. These are the sort of things that draw blood from the unwary. See the seemingly insignificant yet vicious curve to the thorns. This diabolical feature is what makes them dig deeper the harder you struggle. And you struggle in pain.
Our son once flipped off his bike into one of these. His first reaction was relief at his seemingly soft landing. Then he tried to move. By the time he returned home to his momma, he was a bloody mess.
I hate to find myself in the middle of a brier patch.

Looking Down

So why do we even need such a thing ? I meen this isn't the Grand Canyon or even the New River Gorge. True enough, but we do have Hickory Creek here. To get into town from this side, one must somehow get across this natural barrier to travel. There is of course a road that makes the decent, crosses a bridge, and winds upward again. But this would not work out for a train. It could handle the down part I suppose, but that up stuff would cause a problem. And that is where this trestle shines. It may seem rickety, and may even sway and shake under the strain, but it is the only way to make an entire train pass though the air across the gorge.

There may be worse sounds that can come to the ear, but when one is on foot, halfway across one of these things the sound of an approaching train will sure get one's attention. I speak from experience. What if one is two thirds of the way ? Jumping is not an option. Should one run toward the nearest end, even if that is toward the train ? How does one run on cross-ties anyhow ? Very carefully I assure you. And don't look down.

Railroading Stuff

Across the road there is a hayfield. Across the hayfield there is a railroad. This is not like an Amtrak Main Line or anything, it is what is left of what was once the Southern RR. It used to pass though town and head for points west, but now this is the last stop. The rest was abandoned with the tracks pulled up and all. So now there are not a lot of trains. They still pass now and then, usually slowly with a lot of noise. Trains do have a certain fascination about them. Especially at night there is something almost spooky about them.
I remember, when I was younger, camping out at an old abandoned farm that overlooked a trestle. In the middle of the night you could hear the train coming and watch it crossing in the distance. It almost looked like a toy out there with it's headlight and all. Kind of lonesome and spooky. This is a trestle near here. At night you can hear the train crossing. It slows down to almost nothing, and eases carefully across. The thing looks kinda rickety, and I guess the crew thinks so too. I used to listen for the crash, but so far they've always made it. I guess I'm just paranoid or something.

Something Fishy

Who left the water running in the sink ? How did all these fish get in here ? There is something fishy going on here. Maybe someone should open the door or something. Apparently the drought is over.
This is not as bad as it looks, although it did begin as a tale of woe. We like to keep a few fishies around, but not the tropical easy to kill type. But even these hearty goldfishy types do go belly up on occasion. And so it was, that there remained but one lonely little fishy with a deformed tail. Poor fella. It was time for a trip to the fish store. This is always a fun place, not only are there many, many fishies, but kittycats, and fierce birds that will bite your fingers if you get too close. They even got creepy looking snakes and stuff. But we came to see fishies. We picked out a couple fancy tailed ones, but realized that the big old tank would look awful empty like that. But then we see the sign, feeder fish, 8/ $1.00. Oh boy. Some are really pretty, but alas, 8/ $1.00 is you no pick'em. But the charming young lady who waited on us, when she realized we planed to give them a "good home" (instead of feeding them to some monster), went though several tanks picking out the brightest and the best. And we did give them a good home (although it's not quite what it looks like in the picture).
Years ago we lived in a little house out in the boonies with holes in the floor and all that. It was hard to keep warm with only a fireplace for heat. Each night the fishies' water would freeze, and each day it would thaw out and they would swim around happily. But one fateful day, we thawed them out too close to the fire and made chowder. These things are hard to kill, but it can be done.

Snow Job

It's here at last. Yup, winter finally arrived here this very morning. This is actual snow, falling from the pre-dawn sky. Cool, huh ? Actually it's cold. So no school for the young'uns but I had to work. It takes a lot to stop us. Like one of the previous boss-men used to say, "Rain, sleet or snow, the man says you go". I realize this would not be impressive to all you yankees, but it's the best we can do.
By mid-morning it had degenerated to a sleet and rain mixture. I didn't see the seagulls at the dump today, but they would be hard to see in the snow and ice I suppose if they were stupid enough to be out in it. Now they're talking about an ice storm tonight. That's what causes problems. I did see a car slid off the road this morning though. They had the firetruck and all that stuff there. Yesterday evening they cleaned out the grocery stores. Around here we take our snow seriously.