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Caught up in my Stude parts - now with visual dramatization!

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  • Caught up in my Stude parts - now with visual dramatization!

    It's springtime here in central California. Might be snows or whatnot in other states, but it was in the upper seventies yesterday (and is today as well) and this makes everything green, wanna grow. Read that: lawn, trees and WEEDS. I spent half the day, yesterday, addressing weeds I'd turned a blind eye to for weeks prior - that and some judicious tree-pruning that was overdue as well. I did all this in shorts and a light cotton shirt.
    Anyway - at some point during my labors - my cellphone jangled. Answering it, I found it was an old friend who needed a rear hub for a Hawk he was re-habbing. I knew I'd have one - I'd just have to look a bit to find it. I told him I'd do that and get back to confirm it. After we'd finished our conversation, I didn't go straight to the parts pile to find a useable hub. I knew if I did that I risked distracting myself from my weeding and lose what little resolve I had towards the task.

    Later in the evening - revelling with my alcoholic reward - I metally berated myself for letting the hub quest slip my intents. Then this morning, the phone rings again and I'm unable to get to it before it quits ringing. When I do get to pick it up, I see that it was my friend calling and I remembered the damned hub that I'd not yet found. Rather than call him right back and offer excuses, I decide that I'll go right out and scare up a hub before I return his call.
    While it's going to be in the 70s again today, it's still "coolish" out there in the damp morning air. Consequently, I grab a light, padded denim jacket that's hanging by the back door. I slip it on as I head towards the pile of South Bend trinkets. Stopping at the edge of said "pile", I survey as much as I can - given that the damned weeds are surging amongst everything - trying their best, I might guess, to make the irregular metallic mish-mash blend in with the landscape. I curse as I realize that the obnoxious Foxtail grass has already put up the seeds that I'm gonna swear at for the rest of the year. Said seeds drop onto and INTO ones shoes - causing pain and discomfort - and are all but impossible to dislodge once so affixed. For the moment tho, they're still green and won't attack.
    I called this stuff a pile. Truth is, it's more of a carpet. It's only one or two parts deep, but covers roughly an area of about 50 by 80 feet. Just a bunch of this and that that I've kept from various Stude cars and trucks that met their Waterloo here. I'd give the whole mess away if I thought I could find an honest vendor to take them and and do right by them. Thing is, most of those types are TOO FAR away OR would wanna come and cherry pick that which they figured a buck could be made from. So - either I'll pass on and it'll be up to some scrap collector to deal with or I'll just get tired and call the one scrapper that I know. For the moment, it's safe. There's not a raft of C-K sheet metal or anything like that, but good Lark metal and some mechanical pieces that are getting scarcer as I finger this post out.

    OK, so I stand and survey the oxide-tinted scatterings in front of me. No drums or hubs cry out: "Here I am!". Consequently, I carefully choose my first step onto some bumper ends. Then my right foot tests a truck gas tank top. These two things having elevated my vantage point a bit, I again survey the surrounding field of stuff. I move my left foot a bit and then decide to place the right one on the back of a Flight-o-matic that looks solid. I kinda test it first to see just how solid it is, and it seems that it'll hold me. Time to step to it and commit my weight.
    From that moment of committment, the Flight-o seemed to rock back slowly - and I tried to transfer my bulk in a fashion that would compensate. To tell the truth, it all seemed to happen in very slow motion. But not slow enough that I could back out of the inevitable. I was going down. And even tho I'd earlier sorta looked at what I was going to land on, it hadn't really registered with me. As I dropped backwards, groping hands found some jutting pieces of sheet metal - thankfully not ragged or sharp. All I could do with those handfuls was steady my progress a bit - I still worried about what my back and butt were gonna find. To a degree, my butt was rather nicely accomodated when my fall concluded - my back - not so much. Quickly taking stock of the situation, I realized I had settled nicely into the upturned front fender of an early Lark. Save for the inner fender corner jabbing me in the back (geez, was I glad I'd grabbed that padded jacket!), it wasn't all that uncomfortable! The biggest problem was - I couldn't move!
    I sat there for a moment - surveying things. I was so far down - and ensconced by this fender - and with my feet well above where the bulk of me was - that I couldn't even begin to get back up. I must've looked like an upturned turtle. And I futher counted my luck when I realized how my backside had missed the filler neck sticking up from that old truck gas tank. That filler neck now filled my crotch - as tho the result of a whole bottle of Viagra.
    Anyway, I just sat there for a moment. We're in the country here. And even if I were of a mind to holler for help, either our neighbors are off to work, or in their homes or shops. I did remember my cellphone was in my left pocket. Trouble is, I couldn't have gotten it out if my life had depended on it!
    What I finally figured out was that if I kicked sideways enough, I could twist myself (and the fender I was wearing) around to where I could actually get my feet onto solid ground. This was accomplished only after I moved a couple of starters, suspension bits and a Packard oil bath air cleaner so's I'd have cleared places (of ground) to plant my feet. Then with supreme effort I was able to hoist my carcass up out of the fender, usig the lowermost parts of that fender as hand holds. I then took stock of various appendages and concluded the only damages were to my pride. I dusted myself off and continued the quest for a hub - which I found eventually. That Hawk has to make it to a show in about ten days.
    Last edited by Roscomacaw; 03-23-2013, 12:37 PM.
    No deceptive flags to prove I'm patriotic - no biblical BS to impress - just ME and Studebakers - as it should be.

  • #2
    Be careful out there, Bob. Me, I just now came in from plowing a 2-foot drift of Global Warming out of my driveway with the snow blower. Otherwise, I'd be trapped here. Still blowing, but the snow has diminished for the nonce.
    Gord Richmond, within Weasel range of the Alberta Badlands


    • #3
      Hey Bob, funny story, but really not funny. You could have been a lot worse off and I can identify with you having done dumber things than that. Much as I hate to say it, we're getting too old for that sort of foolishness.
      Paul Johnson, Wild and Wonderful West Virginia.
      '64 Daytona Wagonaire, '64 Avanti R-1, Museum R-4 engine, '72 Gravely Model 430 with Onan engine


      • #4
        Good to hear your ok. I do know what you mean though now that I'm more mature a fall can be quit humbling.


        • #5
          QUOTE: "That Hawk has to make it to a show in about ten days."
          Yeah but will you!
          I hope you are not FEELING that tomorrow, if you know what I mean.

          Take care Bob, I am sorry to hear you took a fall, that is not good.
          Second Generation Stude Driver,
          Proud '54 Starliner Owner


          • #6
            Lol! Great visual
            Proud NON-CASO

            I do not prize the word "cheap." It is not a badge of is a symbol of despair. ~ William McKinley

            If it is decreed that I should go down, then let me go down linked with the truth - let me die in the advocacy of what is just and right.- Lincoln


            Ephesians 6:10-17
            Romans 15:13
            Deuteronomy 31:6
            Proverbs 28:1

            Illegitimi non carborundum


            • #7
              Glad your ok Bob. I too was on the weed attack today mowing down every blade my new lawn tractor could reach & finding things with the mower blades that didn't do them any good either, like a 18" threaded bar that must have been at least 1/2" thick, some thin metal screening that now resembles a bunch of aluminum cans. I know too well what those nasty fox tails do both to me & my poor dog who gets them wedged in his paws almost daily. I hope you feel ok tomorrow. Maybe in a couple of months I may have a buyer for you if you have a pair of 62 Lark fenders that he can use but first take care of yourself.
              59 Lark wagon, now V-8, H.D. auto!
              60 Lark convertible V-8 auto
              61 Champ 1/2 ton 4 speed
              62 Champ 3/4 ton 5 speed o/drive
              62 Champ 3/4 ton auto
              62 Daytona convertible V-8 4 speed & 62 Cruiser, auto.
              63 G.T. Hawk R-2,4 speed
              63 Avanti (2) R-1 auto
              64 Zip Van
              66 Daytona Sport Sedan(327)V-8 4 speed
              66 Cruiser V-8 auto


              • #8
                That's hilarious, I've done alot of similar stuff, for me the best part is picturing this whole thing as I read. for me it has been trying to find something thats burried out on my four season porch and falling into the rubble, you'd think this couldn't happen on a haven't seen my porch
                Last edited by GThawkwind; 03-22-2013, 06:05 PM.


                • #9
                  About the only fall i'm gonna do is fall outta bed while playing my X-box, waiting for this cold weather to blow outta here, Then it's yard work for me too.
                  101st Airborne Div. 326 Engineers Ft Campbell Ky.


                  • #10
                    When you are a kid, falling is a part of everyday life. When you get a few years on your body, it can be a disaster. Thanks for a reminder that we have to be careful even in our hobbies.


                    • #11
                      Great story! Peter Egan's writing came to mind as I read it. Good company.
                      Diesel loving, autocrossing, Coupe express loving, Grandpa Architect.


                      • #12
                        Glad all of you got a boot out of my tale - that was my intent. On the serious side, I sometimes wonder how long it would be before someone found me if I had a real (not that my fender-diving wasn't real) emergency here during the day. It's one thing to have a cellphone in my pocket - it's another thing to be able to use it if I'm incapacitated. But I'm not losin' any sleep over it. Hell, I've lived to be what I once considered positively ANCIENT when I was a kid. Any years after where I've gotten to are a gift.
                        BTW, I traverse that "pile" often, but stuff gets moved about as I search for things. So each foray can present different obstacles - which would explain why this particular trick hadn't been performed earlier.
                        No deceptive flags to prove I'm patriotic - no biblical BS to impress - just ME and Studebakers - as it should be.


                        • #13
                          I think this story should make Turning Wheels. Why should the forum members be the only ones to get a good story? I keep thinking of you lying there like a turtle with a misshaped shell. Funny story...since it turned out so well.
                          "In the heart of Arkansas."
                          Searcy, Arkansas
                          1952 Commander 2 door. Really fine 259.
                          1952 2R pickup


                          • #14
                            Yep, Bob; good Turning Wheels fodder...but with a staged, appropriate photograph....or at least a photo of the landscape in which you temporaily resided. At least you had the part!

                            Man, that could have been so much worse, with all those jagged bits and pieces about. 'Good that you are OK!

                            How about training one of your large birds to go seek help in situations like that...maybe kind of a winged Lassie, if you will? BP
                            We've got to quit saying, "How stupid can you be?" Too many people are taking it as a challenge.

                            Ayn Rand:
                            "You can avoid reality, but you cannot avoid the consequences of avoiding reality."

                            G. K. Chesterton: This triangle of truisms, of father, mother, and child, cannot be destroyed; it can only destroy those civilizations which disregard it.


                            • #15
                              LOL! The wife read this after she got home yesterday, and the first thing out of her mouth was: We oughta stage a photo of you in your predicament. I can say that worry about what I was about to find as I fell backwards was one of the thoughts that raced thru my head! That gas filler neck could've been alot less funnier had it been an inch closer to my "delicates".
                              No deceptive flags to prove I'm patriotic - no biblical BS to impress - just ME and Studebakers - as it should be.