Why - Finally

Warren Zevon once said "We buy books because we believe we're buying the time to read them." I think my father bought woodworking supplies for the same reason. He was an optimist. When I first started sorting through the contents of his shop, I don't think I really understood that. The sheer volume of what he owned just seemed so crazy. But now I've been home for 24 hours from this trip, and I've unloaded the truck and started going through all the stuff I just hauled across the country, and I realize that it was only ever about one thing.

The lathe.

In the later years of his life, my father became a serious woodturner. Some would say obsessive. He was passionate about it. He made a lot pens (and bottle stoppers, kaleidoscopes, etc.) as gifts. He also worked hard to refine his technique and get good at making bowls and other larger items by attending seminars, classes, and conferences. I found out about the Philadelphia Wood Turning Center (Now The Center for Art in Wood) and bought him a membership one year. He was so excited about it that the newsletter just wasn't enough. He found excuses to go down there and check it out a couple times.

When I was younger, I'd often go down to the basement and help my dad with various woodworking project. In those days, he was more interested in furniture. We'd refinish antiques he'd picked up, or build things for the house. There's a photo of me somewhere using a sander on what would become the family room wall units. I was about 5. I'm pretty sure I have that sander now too. I'm sure most of time I actually impeded his progress, but he never let me know that. I also learned a lot of what I know about woodworking from him, and I've turned out to be a pretty competent carpenter.

By the time dad took up turning seriously, I was living across the country and had my own adult life to deal with. He and I talked a lot about what he was working on, but I never got to work with him on it. After he died, Ivan and I split a lot of his personal belongings, and each of us took things that meant something, but the shop was an open question. I would use most of it, but really didn't have the space, and getting it out here would have been a fortune. Ivan didn't really have the space either, and I don't think he was all that interested anyway. Over time, mom found good homes for almost everything, including the shop classroom at the local high school. That would have made dad happy.

There was this one lathe though that I decided I had to have. It was the smallest of the three (Yup, three), and seemed manageable. It was also the one that dad used to make most of the stuff he gave people, like pens. It just seemed like a good way to connect with him again, but then it got complicated. In addition to the lathe, I realized that I might as well take all the unfinished kits, pen blanks, tools, and assorted accessories. There was a lot of it. The pile of got pretty big. And it sat there. There just never seemed to be a good way to get that big a pile to California.

Then mom decided to sell the house, and this whole adventure ensued. I did bring a ton of other things across the country. Davia is already enjoying some of my old books, and Spencer dove into my Matchbox cars, but I finally realized that I could have lived without almost all of it. The lathe was always the thing.

So now I have dad's lathe, and an awful lot of kits to make everything from pens to hors d'oeuvre forks. I have to idea how to use any of it, but I'll think of him a lot while I figure it all out, and wish he were here to just explain it. 

Not coincidentally, dad was also a fan of a good road trip. We took a lot of them when I was a kid, including a cross country run. While I didn't appreciate some of them at the time, I seem to talk about them a lot now. I'm sure he would have appreciated how this all came about, and the end result.

Don't Try This At Home

Jon and I decided we wanted to knock out some miles even though I had to work Friday. He picked me up at 4:00 PM in Aurora, CO and we pointed the truck to Richfield, UT. It was the worst drive of the trip. There was traffic out of Denver, a little rain, miles of construction, and hills. Lots and lots of hills. Many of them required 3rd gear in the Ranger. My advice to anyone contemplating a 500 mile drive through the Rockies at night is - don't. We got in around 12:30 and passed out. At some point we ate some Arby's and bought expensive gas. It turns out that the gas station next to the "No Services Next 106 Miles" can charge whatever they want. Go figure.

There are some pretty interesting town names out here. Floy, UT is a real place. Danish Fist, UT is not. Danish Flat is, but in the dark I swear I read Danish Fist.

On the plus side, I-70 in Utah has mostly 80 MPH speed limits and we didn't hit a deer, despite several warnings to look out for them. Also, based on the current state of the windshield, we've made a real dent in the insect population in the mountain states.

I think we've reached the point in the week when it's just about getting this done.

Yes Toto, We Are Still in Kansas

Not the first NASCAR trophy

The ARDUN cylinder head

I've got some work stuff in Denver on Friday, so we had to make it there by tonight. There wasn't much time for meandering, but we decided the Kansas Racing Museum in Chapman, KS would be an interesting stop around lunch time. It's a neat place with several cars and a lot of memorabilia from the local racing scene. As usual, I learned something. Turns out that Zora Arkus-Duntov, before he went to work for GM and became known as the father of the Corvette, designed cylinder heads under contract to Ford. They weren't very popular for their original purpose of adding power to mine trucks, but became popular later on among builders of flathead-based hot rods. This place also has the very first trophy ever handed out in a NASCAR race, but as the owner Doug Thompson told us "I can't just leave it out here. It would disappear. That's a replica." I'm not sure why it couldn't be in a locked case, but maybe security at night is an issue for the building. The replica was a bit of a letdown. We did ask Doug where to eat lunch. His first suggestion was the deli in the supermarket outside the museum, but then he offered Southern Comfort "If you want a sit-down place."

Possibly the crime of the century
in Chapman.

The cheeseburger was passable but ordinary. Jon reported that the grilled cheese was grilled cheese. However, while we were in the Southern Comfort Restaurant, a cop stopped by to ask our waitress if she knew anything about the truck parked on the median across the street. It had been there over night with the engine running. He may be the only cop in Chapman, and this was apparently a lot of excitement. As we left, we realized he had found the driver, who it seems was just asleep in the back. It isn't clear whether this actually constituted a crime. I also enjoyed the fact that the owner of the restaurant communicates with both customers and employees via signs. These were two I have never seen before:

By the register.

This one was over the
toilet in the men's room.

On the way out of town, we passed a very large banner informing us that Chapman is also the home of astronaut Joe Engle. So it has that.

Here's a 3 shot sequence of a fairly new Ferrari being driven by someone who doesn't appear to deserve it. I have to assume if you can afford the car, you can afford the tickets. The speed limit on I-70 through Kansas is 75, and the road is flat and clear. We passed him in the Ranger, which I  as driving at a safe 85. Ferrari guy was wearing driving gloves. I have no idea why. Modern Ferraris are pretty well climate controlled, so the likelihood of his hands getting sweaty, or the wheel getting very cold, is very small. Jon took the pictures.

Look - A Ferrari.

Why are you taking my picture?

Gone in the rearview.

After leaving Chapman, we just kept driving. Turns out Kansas takes a while to get through, even with 75 MPH speed limits. It just keeps going, and going, and was pretty boring. We did about 625 miles today, but got to the hotel in time to see the Yankees clinch a playoff spot.