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Zip Line

Jimway

Jimway

Well-known member
You know, recently some of the guys have been bothering me to participate in something I like to identify as Hunting Insanity. Every year they come down with this malady. They disappear from the house, yard, alley, neighborhood, shop, town, jobsite, and sometimes county and state, like a whisp of smoke in the wind. I've never seen anything like it except for maybe when the waiter or hostess shows up with the bill for dinner. These guys are engaged in some sort of contest that is born from the hunting insanity. Big new trucks, fancy BIG bore rifles (the concussion alone from firing off one of these things will knock the deer out at 100 feet not to mention the hunter doing the firing and the chrome trim from his fancy big diesel 4x4 lifted crew cab truck if he is standing close enough to it), little four wheel drive vehicles that they call quads, fancy duds, night vision, scopes, all kinds of camping gear, and tents the size of a single car garage. All of the equipment that they used last year starts to show up at my place around August and September, in a non functioning state. This is part of the hunting insanity. You load up all of your stuff at the campsite and throw it back into the garage, shed, barn, shop or even a blue tarp in the front or back yard as soon as you get home, and don't touch it until next September. Quads, chainsaws, generators, trucks, cycles, and the like usually need a good carb clean, oil change, a little tlc, and they are usually purring again. The past few seasons, I started charging every one for the parts and repairs. There was some serious grumbling and outright mutiny until they took their stuff to the local repair place. They beat a path right back to old Jim's place real fast when they all saw the shop time amount at the repair facility. This year, one of my buddies shows up with a quad, a chainsaw, and two generators. He states that he is a little short of funds but that 'if' I can get his stuff going, I can have this old generator. It's one of those fancy Hondas but looks as if it was thrown into the back of a truck and then deposited in a barn and left for three or four years. I accept. Now some of you guys know that ole Jim can operate just about anything with tracks,wheels, skis, pedals,or props. The quad shows up with about an inch of dirt on it. I wash it off, then blow dry the machine. Choke cable is broken, rear wheels are loose(!), and the battery is dead. It also has a pull start handle on the side which I look at with suspicion as the machine has a 500 cc motor under there somewhere. He starts pulling parts off of the machine. "What are you doin?", I ask. "Oh well we got to rebuild the carbenator" he states matter of factly. "May I make a suggestion"? I ask. He stops immediately. He has learned the significance of that phrase when uttered by me. "Lets give this thing a try before you reduce it to kit form", I tell him. I look down at the oil filter. It has 9-02 written on it. I'm truly amazed to find oil in the tank. "When's the last time you changed the oil and filter in this thing"?, I ask while eyeing the writing on the oil filter. "Oh I think my wife did it a couple of years ago", he says sheepishly.
 
As usual, The whole time we are working on the machine, my buddy is trying to get me caught up in the hunting insanity. He describes how wonderful the camp site is, it's plentiful accommodations (shower, tv), camaraderie, good food, plentiful adult beverage (uh-oh), etc etc. He just has to get me up there this year. "It will be a great adventure" he says with a big smile. "I don't know" I say, "These days, the only adventure I want is parking the truck at the camp site and setting the emergency brake, walking back to the camper, starting the furnace and water heater, pulling out the awnings, and maybe starting a fire". We take some time out and go get a battery and some lunch. During lunch, I hear all about one of the members of camp that I don't particularly care for all that much. He is one of those got to have a big lifted crew cab diesel types that is the fastest most powerful etc, etc. In fact, my buddy wants to hop up his chainsaw to hopefully out do Mr Fancypants in the fire wood cutting competition. I can feel the possibility of catching the insanity. When we get back from lunch, we install the quads battery. He hits the starter and there is a tell tale click from the solenoid. "See, I told you that the starter is bad" he states with a frown, "This aint good" he adds shaking his head. "Hold on for a moment" I say while I get the jumper switch from the roll away. I hook up the clamps across the solenoid and push the button. The starter spins the motor right over. Quick as you can say broken neck because the rear wheels are loose, I install the enrichener cable. I'm nearly as surprised as my buddy when the machine fires up. I'm more surprised when he jumps right on the machine and gooses the throttle and whips down the driveway and zips off down the road at what must be 50 mph, loose rear wheels and all. He touches back down on the driveway and skids to a stop. "You gotta try this" he says. "I'm surprised you don't have one of these" he adds, kind of smugly. "Just as soon as you bolt them wheels up tight" I say sternly. I do admire the machine. It's automatic, and four wheel drive too. Once the quad is running, I give the generator a try. Pushing on the starter button causes all kinds of noise and grinding to be admitted from the flywheel area. I remove the fan shroud and find a piece of metal has come loose from the baffle inside. I weld it back in there and hook up the magneto wiring that has been torn loose. The generator now fires right up too. I quickly set the governed speed and do a full load test. Now he pulls out an ancient Stihl 045 chainsaw. It's locked up. I remove the muffler and peer inside the exhaust port at the piston, its seized. "You runnin straight gas in this thing or what"? I ask him sarcastically. "This bad boy is toast" I announce. My buddy looks at the ground and puts his hands in his pockets. "I was hoping that you could fix er up cause I'd really like to show up that blank blank blank of a blank at huntin camp. "So you guys get into a little competition up there in the woods cuttin some fire wood eh"? I ask. "I tell you what" I say, "You just leave this saw with old Jimmy for a spell, I'll have it up and running in no time". "Thing is though, when you get it back, you are going to have to be real careful with it" I sternly warn him. "Why"? he asks. "Cause this thing is gonna absolutely spank trees when I get done with it" I say. He smiles. I smile too.
 
On a side note, the insides of a Stihl 056 Super fit right into an 045 (heh heh). Which is exactamundo what I did, along with some sleight timing, port and piston work, full wrap handle, and a dual port muffler. Fire this baby up out in the woods and the trees will shiver right in front of you. Before this though, My buddy tells me that he needs help getting to the hunt camp. "I know you used to do a little work in the woods" he says. "I need an expert to tell me how to get across a river". "Well, if I had me one of those big lifted, big tired, diesels, I'd just drive right across". "How deep is the river?" "Maybe the truck is gonna float away?" I smile. He frowns at me, "The forest ranger takes a dim view of hunters driving across the river." "Oh" I say. So I ask all kind of questions like how deep, how far across, the size of any trees on either side of river. Then I tell him about some of the ways that we used back in the day to move stuff from one side of the creek (it's a creek this time of year, the raging river part comes during the rainy season) to the other side, often with success, sometimes not so much. I also ask him pertinent information about the presence of any game warden, dept of resourses, sherrif, marshal, etc, and where their offices might be, what times they usually show up, etc. He tells me that the bridge is washed out where they usually go across. " What are you trying to get to the other side?" I ask. "Just the quads and camping gear". he says. "What's the machine weigh, three or four hundred?" I ask. "Yup" he says. "No problem" I say. He looks at me increadulis like. "What you need is a 'zip line'." "Here, let me draw you a picture" I say. I grab up a notebook and cobble up a drawing faster than a 20 foot drop into ice cold water. I even write down some rules of engagement concerning the construction and use of the zip line. Rule number one is to park your shiney new, lifted, big tired, dual exhausted, diesel truck twice the distance of the zip line in a circle away, preferably up slope. You must be careful when explaning stuff to folks under the influence of the hunting insanity. "Shoot, I think I've got just what you need out in the barn" I say. I keep a neat snarl of chains and cable and hooks, snatch blocks and stuff off in a far dark corner, (it corrodes better that way). "This is a cable car setup" I say and show him how to assemble it. "Gawad this sh-uh-stuff is heavy' he grunts. "It has to be" I say. "You got to multiply the working load by a factor of ten so that nothin gets wet or deceleration dents and scuffs" I smile.
 
"Boy I just can't wait to see the look on those guys faces when I get all of the gear across the river" says my buddy. Being somewhat attuned to the hunting insanity, I postulate a quick question. "Now let me get this straight, I'm gonna drive 4 hours up into the hills, to leave my truck parked in the middle of some forest road, and hike who knows how far to get to this hunting camp, to pitch a tent?" I say. "Now tell me how far across the river and up the road is the camp?" "Oh it's only a couple of minutes up the road" says the buddy. You must be very specific when dealing with the person under the influence of hunting insanity. "When you say 'up' the road, would it be safe to assume that you could actually get a vehicle to drive down this road as in this road isn't some trail from the 1860's, and also, while we're at it, just how steep does 'up' mean?" "Oh well yeah it's only a couple a minutes by quad and the quad has four wheel drive, nothin to it" he states. "And how fast would this quad normally be traveling 'up' the cliff to camp?" I ask while placing my hands on my hips and narrowing my gaze with a frown. "I heard you knew how to ride but if you're gonna slow down for all the ruts and stuff it might take a little longer" says buddy. "Ruts huh?" I say. "Tell me about the deer" I ask. "What deer?" says buddy with a blank look. "That's what I thought" I mumble to myself. "Aw you just got to come up this year and see this place" he says." "We set up a bathroom with running water and a shower with a propane heater." "We even got this big screen tv that we hang between these two trees for watchin movies at night." he adds. "Shoot, it takes one generator by itself to run all the Christmas lights" he says proudly. "Look, you can bunk with me" he offers. "How big is the tent?" I shoot back. "There both about 12 by 20, I just hook em together" he smiles. "Yup, got a big propane heater goes in there too, it'll run you out of there even when it snows" "You really need to come up" he adds. "You know, it does sound cool but I'm tellin you right now, I got to be able to drive right up, park the truck, walk back to the camper, climb up the steps, run out the slider, turn on the heat, pull out the awnings, unfold a couple of chairs, and maybe build a fire" I tell him. "I'm not interested in no three mile hike to Christmas camp, canvas tents, bugs, mud and mice." "How the blank do you get all this stuff up to this camp of yours?" I ask. "That's what I need the zip line for" he looks at me kind of exasperated. "No, no, no, how do you get all this stuff up the mountain to the bridge that is washed out, in preparation of crossing said washed out bridge, and proceeding three miles up a cliff?" I ask. "Oh, I load it onto my flatbed" he smiles and steps up close. "But I got a big surprise for you" he gushes. "You're the only one that's gonna know" he adds. "You gotta keep this under yer hat" his voice quivers. "I can't wait to see the look on you know who's face (mr fancy pants) when I drive up in my new truck" he stammers. "Ooooh, you got a new truck?" I ask. "Yup, wait till you see it" he says proudly. F350, crewcab, four wheel drive, duals, chipped, tow package, big tires, winch, leather, she's a beaut. "You know that they put you in prison for five years for robbing a bank right?" I ask him. He gives me a disgusted look.
 
"I didn't rob no bank", he says. "I borrowed the money from Car Lot Bob" he says. I might mention here that Car Lot Bob (Buy Here, Pay Here) is an outstanding guy, owns several used vehicle establishments, is able to offer attractive financing to his friends and falls into the 'good soul' category. I flop down the tailgate of my old truck and sit down. I pat the area next to me on the tailgate and tell my buddy to "Sit down right here and tell me the story on this new truck". "Truck kind of fell in my lap" "Belonged to my sisters husband but he passed away" "They can't afford the payments on it and I always admired the truck so they offered it to me for just take over the payments or pay off the loan on the truck." "I talked to Car Lot Bob and he set up the deal and even brought the truck up from down South." "It's a really nice truck, been in the garage most of it's life." "Brother in law was the kind of guy that had lots of money, ordered the truck new with all the bells and whistles." "Oh no" I say. "I'm sorry to hear about your brother in law." "How's your sister doing?" "Naw, it aint like that at all" he says, "The're long de-vorced". "Oh" I say. "Yup, he was the kind of guy that bought the best of everything" he says. "Engine has all of the upgrades, pulls like a freight train too". "I plan on rubbin someone's nose all over it at huntin camp" he adds. "You know, I'd kind of like to see the look on his face too" I say as I rub my chin with my right hand. "Would be kind of nice to get up into the woods for a couple of days, maybe scare up a deer or an elk, put some meat in the freezer". "Heck, I might just come up for a few days, Mrs. Jim would probably be happy to get me out from under foot" I say out loud. "Are you kidding!" he says, "Why don't you bring her along too?" "I'll ask her." "She is gonna want to know if there is room service and a heated pool" I sigh. "So you were telling me about a little firewood competition that you guys have up there?" I ask. "Yeah, that blank blank (mr fancy pants) has a big new huskeyvarnish chainsaw and says that he'll smoke anybody that has the guts to go up against em." "H u s k v a r n a" I sound out for him. "Just say Husky for short" I add. "Smoke anybody eh?" I say rubbing my chin this time with my left hand. "I wonder iffen he's gonna be packin some dollars to put where his mouth is?" I ask out loud. "You know, a guy like that would have a hard time losing to a old grey haired guy" I say. "He'd probley p--p himself!" my buddy adds. I smile. "Oh, tell yer misses that there is a hot tub up there" says my buddy proudly, "What?" I say and just shake my head. "Are you serious?" I add. "Yup" he says. "Runs on wood, gets plenty hot too" he says.
 
Now the zip line is a cable that you stretch between a couple of trees on either side of a stream, crick, creek, river, ditch, gorge, canyon, etc. You can wrap a chain around the tree and then attach the cable to it. On the other side you do the same thing. Then you use something like a Lewis Winch and a snatch block to tighten up the cable. Now the snatch block is nothing more than a heavy duty pulley that opens up so that you can place it over a cable instead of having to thread the cable through it. The Lewis Winch is a Northwest special. It is a drum type winch powered by a, you guessed it, chainsaw power head. It's about the coolest tool in the world when you are out in the woods. You can drag just about anything you want just about anywhere you want. When you tighten that cable that crosses whatever abyss you are trying to get stuff across, you want it to be level so that you can move the load across without having to fight gravity. Now you should have a 'tag line' attached to the load, in fact, I put this little tid bit of important information right in the directions for the zip line. You do not want gravity to excert undue complications upon your load or your self. With the tag line, you can move the load across at your own comfortable speed versus giving it a push and watching it pick up speed (gravitational affect and effect) right up until it gets to the other side and comes to a stop against whatever the cable is attached to. So once you get the cable stretched across, you place a couple of snatch blocks on it. The snatch blocks are separated by a piece of ship or 'c' channel (spreader bar). You can bolt another couple of pieces of ship channel onto the piece that goes in between the snatch blocks so that it looks like a big letter I. Chains hang down from the outer ends so that you can attach stuff to it and off you, or better yet, it, goes across. If you are so inclined, you can attach a big piece of ship channel underneath the snatch blocks and spreader bars (cable car) so that you can drive a truck, preferably a company truck and not yours, onto the spreader bars and then hook chains up to the big 'I' looking part that is suspended under the cable car and boom, across goes the truck. In fact, if you use a big enough cable, you can move some pretty big stuff. On the bigger stuff, you can run the tag line with the Lewis Winch and pull it right across with not much sweat. Use a smaller cable or overload even a big cable and bad stuff will occur. Heck, we moved two dozers across a canyon up on a little Weyerhaeuser job one time with this very same setup. It's a good thing I moved a new Deere 550 across first cause it was obviously heavier than this old Case 350. As far as I know, that old Case is still layin down there at the bottom. Davy Jones spends all of his time on the water and Murphy is his accomplice but Murphy spends a lot of time in the woods. You don't want to be anywhere near the cable if it breaks also, just a FYI.
 
Just between you guys and me, I have noticed some pretty big geo physical changes in the Northwest recently. In point of fact, these changes are why I picked up that old F250. I wanted a camper to put on the back of it. Oh, and another thing, don't ever take your significant other out camping in a trailer or motorhome or other likewise vehicle, you will never get them into a tent again. The last time I spread out a sleeping bag on the ground, the ground has become much harder than in the past. On a side note, these new lightweight sleeperbags must be full of the same stuff that they make dynamite fuse out of so don't spread out the bag next to the campfire. This brings up another change that I have noticed concerning the outdoors. The nights have become increasingly colder. Might even be heralding a new ice age. The cold at night will sink it's fangs into your bones and not let loose until high noon the following day. Thirdly, The air has become thinner. As soon as you start doing stuff like hiking around or maybe climbing a medium sized tree because one of your playful hunting buddies has yelled BEAR! and pointed his outstreched arm, you will have to breath twice as hard as ever. Some of the inhales will be sufficient to strip pine needles right off of the low lying nearby branches. Forthly, gravity is now exerting easily twice what it was in my youth. Just try to climb a trail that you easily would have traversed in your youth, and you too will see what I'm talking about. And speaking of trails, Due to these recent geo physical changes, trails have grown to twice their length. Maybe the earths crust has ballooned out from the core? Probably just the mountains have grown taller from the increased gravity on the lowlands. All I know is that trails that used to take an hour to traverse now take two hours. That's how I know that they are now twice as long. Mrs. Jim has a theory but it's kind of far out so I wont mention it here. So with all of this going on, a guy needs to get him one of those campers that goes in the bed of his truck. Gone are the days of winches ropes and prybars to get the camper into the bed of the truck. The camper comes with electric jacks at each corner. Just hit the remote and the camper rears right up and you just back right in under the camper, hit the remote, and the camper settles right down into the bed, and you're off, but don't forget to tie down the rig. I think you may be able to see the beauty in having your own campsite right there on the posterior of the truck. You drive right up, slip her into park, apply the brake, remove key, step to rear of vehicle, climb steps while noticing geo physical changes, fire up both furnace and hot water heater, and build an adult beverage if one wishes and the circumstances are conducive. If you are feeling froggy, you can throw up a campfire, better yet, let the missus practice her fire building skills (Mrs. Jim: "See how easy it is Honey?") while you unfold a couple of chairs. (make sure to get chairs that come with drink holders)
 
For the upcoming woodcutting event up at hunting camp (I call it Christmas Camp ), I threw the guts of an 056 super into the frame of the old broken down Stihl 045 chainsaw that my buddy showed up with. The parts fit right in there but the tag on top of the saw still (or should I say Stihl) says 045. Pretty sneaky. I sharpen up some special chains on the grinder and true up a couple of different guide bars with speed and accuracy in mind. With malice aforethought, I even take a couple of my big Pioneer chainsaws when I go up. I do a little port work on the 045 ( 056 Super II ) add a 'full wrap' handle and a tuned dual port muffler. I end up installing a compression release to tame the starting proceedure. I take the saw up for some firewood cutting and break it in and get it fine tuned before I give it back to my buddy, who we'll call Fred. I take old Fred up on the firewood cutting expedition to teach him some of the finer points of chainsaw etiquette and get him used to the ' Power of the Dark Side' as it were. Being only slightly stooped, I make sure that he gets in lots of minutes of operating duty on the big bore saw ( we've gone from 75cc to a little over 90cc heh heh ). By the end of a few days, my firewood stash is overflowing and that saw sings when slicing through the wood. I also train old Fred up for the coming competition. What is going to happen is that we are going to set up a couple of logs about 16 inches in diameter, about 16 inches off of the ground. The contestants, in this case, mr fancy pants and old Fred, will warm up their saws and then set them upon the ground. they will then stand at their log respectively and put their hands upon the log. When the starting gun is fired, the contestants grab up their idling saw, grab mucho throttle, and stab that saw down on the log, cutting as straight as possible. When they get through the downward cut, they move the saw over a pinch and make an upper cut, again as straight as possible. This isn't as easy as it may sound as a good sawman may be able to pick up his saw and get it cutting in less than a second. From the time he cuts through the first 'cookie' and begins the second uppercut will be less than 1/2 a second. Time is called at the end of the second cut and you can only cut in the first four inches of the log. You must make a full cookie each cut. You must have a keen ear to cut fast but not bog down the saw. "Slow is Smooth, and Smooth is Fast" (another little tidbit from 'The Book of Jim')
 
In my mind, I'm thinking that at some point, mr fancy pants, (fp), is going to challenge old Jim for the 'title', as it were. That old looking scratched up saw and an old looking scratched up Jimway, is going to be just too much of a temptation for fp. Fp has what I call, 'little man syndrome'. Big tired, new lifted diesel trucks with all of the options, new clothes, the most expensive boots that one can buy, giant caliber semi automatic rifles with huge scopes, fantabulous yarns, especially concerning 10000 yard shots in 70 mph winds, hand loaded ammo that turns out to be unsafe, all new camping equipment, giant generators, $20000 dollar Quads, camping tents the size of a house, and so on and so forth. Fp considers himself to be the epitome of loggers. He claims to have been involved in the trade for some time in his younger years. Personally, I think that he spent three weeks working for an uncle in the woods before he tried unsuccessfully to lop off his leg with a chainsaw. He carries upon one knee, the unmistakable imprint of being on the tail end of a disagreement with a smallish chainsaw of some type (probably one of those little Sears or maybe a Homelite heh heh). All of the guys up at christmas camp, uh, I mean hunting camp, tend to look up to fp and believe his b=-- s=-- stories. Fp knows nothing more than that I cut a couple of logs up once a year for some firewood. Them guys with all of the fancy new stuff seem to take a dislike to the old gray haired guys that have old scratched up stuff. In fact, they seem to enjoy a smirk or two amongst themselves at times, and are known to verbally dress down an old guy periodically. Such is the treatment that old Fred gets from some of the guys at hunting camp. I figured it was time for a little comeuppance, as it were. Old Fred agreed as we came up with a plan to have a little fun with mr fp while I came up for just the weekend.
 
So I roll up to where all of the trucks are parked on the North side of this small bridge that crosses this even smaller creek. I do notice that mr fp has his new Dodge mega cab lifted big tired much optioned truck front and center, hooked up to the zip line that crosses the creek. The zip line is attached to a tree on the South side of the creek. On the North side, the zip line is attached to the big fancy winch on the front of mr fp's truck (smile). I am somewhat surprised because only the approach to the bridge is washed away on the North side. The South side is fine. I am not too surprised to see the zip line attached to mr fp's truck. I am right behind old Fred as we roll up. Since old Fred's truck is a diesel, he has to talk loudly (seems to be a common trait here among the diesel crowd no doubt brought on by the decibel level of those big engines). Mr fp asks old Fred rather loudly, "What the blank is he doing here"? while flicking his right thumb up toward me. I smile to myself. "I invited him up" says old Fred. Some of the others saunter up. I know only a couple of them. The 514 in my old Ford has just seen close to four hundred miles of open road. It's all cleared out, warmed up, and purring like a big cat. "What the blank is that smell"? asks mr fp. "Probably your upper lip" I shoot back. "No I mean that gassy smell" states mr fp and then he shoots me a disdained look. "You ever think of getting a new truck that has a real engine in it"? ask's mr fp. He and several others present share an all knowing smirk. I unclench my right hand and switch off the ignition. I climb out. "Yeah I know it's a old truck, old like me, but I thought about the cost of a new truck, the cost of diesel fuel, the cost of diesel parts, the cost of diesel maintenance and figured that I'd just fix up this old wreck as a project". "I didn't pay as much for my first house as what one of these things cost". "Regular gas is cheaper than diesel". "I can long block this engine for what you are going to pay to put in a set of injectors in a diesel". "This thing only takes six quarts and a cheap filter". "See what I mean"? I add. "I swapped out some labor and the guy give me this truck so it really didn't cost me anything" I say. Much to mr fp's chagrin, a couple of the group step forward and one of them says "This thing is pretty clean".
 
It's a long story, as you might imagine.You got the 460 thing right. I should have left the 460 alone as the 460 is really a stroked 429. The 460 in my 'free' project truck had a lack of oil pressure at hot idle (found this out on the way home) and I succumbed to a 'friends' (properly pronounced "fiends") offer of a bunch of used parts. The 514 requires a different crankshaft, connecting rods and pistons. Then you get to have everything balanced. Then you go find a California fuel injection system truck and transfer all of that into your non California truck. Rather extensive work to the induction system and cylinder heads, but that is where you find hp. Pulls like a Freightliner. The tuning is a thing in progress but the truck fires right up either hot or cold. I don't think that we have twisted it past 3500 rpm. The really cool thing is that it looks stock under there. 3:55 gearing with stock size wheels and tires yields like 1500 rpm at 60ish mph, around 2000 at 60 with overdrive locked out, right in the sweet spot of torque. Way more engine than transmission though, so one must monitor trans fluid temps when working engine. Torque is good. I have not felt like exploring any full throttle operation although any anxiousness on the throttle pedal will immediately produce copious amounts of rear wheel spin, all four if you want to, I suspect . Michelin tires being as expensive as they are, tend to limit such displays to just the neighbor that you love's front street (smile). Fuel consumption is not as bad as I thought although you can watch the gauge go down on a long grade when loaded with a camper and pulling a trailer. I'm used to Ranger pickups so this thing is like sitting at home on the couch. It will easily and effortlessly reel in the miles out on the open road.
 
Not sure what I'm trying to read here, But why, twice in the last year or so I had couple of Ford Power Stroke Guys with their over sized worn out tires feel they need to prove something. Either by leaving the light or blowing by me as I'm turning right, They felt the need to floored it, pouring out the exhaust fumes, then both cranking the wheel back and forth trying to get a tire to spin on the wet pavement. Knowing all the time, if I'd just reached over and turn off the traction control, do the same I would literally throw myself into wild doughnuts down the road. But each to their own :cheers:
 
I survey the scene that presents itself to me. mr fancy pants has the zip line attached to the winch on the front of his fancy truck, a violation of the written zip line rules. I mention to those closest to me that "Somebody didn't read the rules". I place my hands into my pockets. Mr fancy pants is going to traverse the zip line on a rather attractive quad. "Thas a nice Grizzzly right there" someone states. I stiffen at the mention of the word Grizzly, and look quickly around. Not seeing any bears about, I feel a little better. Then I find out that the quad is a 'Grizzly'. "This has possibilities" I say to old Fred. Mr fp looks like he is going to ride over the zip line on top of the Grizzly, another infraction of the rules. As I stand there, I make some quick observations and calculations. "This just might go bad for some guy" I smile to old Fred. Now the zip line goes up hill from the truck, in my estimation ( yet another violation). Mr fp anounces to all present that he is going to ride across on the back of the machine. "Watch this" he says. Those two words usually herald a disaster with the folks that I sometimes hang around with. "May I make a suggestion"? I say. It's too late. Mr fp pushes off with gusto. Now there is supposed to be a 'tag line' attached to the zip line carriage to safely facilitate a movement of material across the creek. Also, it might not be too hard to envision someone trying to balance their way across the creek. First they lean one way and then they lean a little further the opposite way, gaining momentum and swaying further back and forth until ultimately they fall off. If one doesn't secure the load to the trolley, it can come off too. "Dah da da dah da da dah dah da da duh da da daah" I happily sing (the theme song to Bonanza). The whole affair is over pretty quickly but as the trolley moves across the creek it causes the line to sag in the middle. Part way up the other side, the trolley, quad, and rider are swaying perpendicular first to the left and then to the right. Mr fp make a valiant attempt to hold on, in the end he expends his full resource of swear words just as he falls from the trolley into the creek, which, by the sudden upper octaves of his voice, we all judge to be very very cold. The trolley and quad, thus lightened of it's passenger, begins to return back from whence it came. Had mr fp just tied the zip line to a tree, the trolley and quad would just have crashed into the tree instead of that fancy new truck. The worse part was when the zip line ripped loose from the truck and recoiled across the creek, leaving the quad free to drive off of the trolley and then down the creek embankment and roll into the creek. It rated right up there at the top of things that I have had the pleasure of watching for absolutely free. Discretion sometimes being the better part of valor, I stepped away toward the washed out section of the bridge, being careful to hide my face and keep my back turned. I gritted my teeth and bit my lip and somehow managed to keep my knees from buckling from underneath me. I shoot a quick glance at old Fred as I feel someone tugging on to me. Old Fred, has grabbed onto my coat, his head hangs all of the way down, and he is walking on his knees.
 
"I wonder what a new grill costs for a 3500"? I whisper. I drag old Fred to his feet. Tears are streaming down his cheeks. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. "What did I tell you"? I ask Fred. He can only shake his head, first back and forth and then up and down. I straighten up his jacket and brush off his shoulders. I then offer my hand in congratulation. "It's early yet" I say. "I bet he tries to re string the cable". "I bet we can goad him easily into a little cutting competition later on" I matter of factly add. Old Fred is hanging down from his left arm that is holding on to my collar. His right arm is sitting on his mid upper right leg at the elbow. his legs are slightly bent forward as is his back. His head is now drooping forward. "Get a hold of yourself so we can go inspect the damage" I say. "I have an idea on how to get my truck across the bridge" I say. Old Fred looks up with red watery eyes. "Whaaaht"? he croaks. "Yeah" I say. "There is only a little bit of the approach missing". "If we grab up a couple of big logs, slab out some flat cuts on top of em and drag em across the opening here, we drive across like nobodies business". "We quick cut a couple of uprights to brace the side here and we're in". "You start barking orders at me like it's your idea". I say. "And you'll get some respect out a these guys". I add. The gang is down in the creek, trying to upright the big quad. "By the time they get that thing started, we'll have the bridge open for business, I'll be parked in camp, cause you know I'm not gonna leave my rig here, you'll be the king in these guys eyes, you'll have your truck parked right in your campsite too, we'll goad mr fancy pants into a cutting competition, and I'll tell ya somthin else" I offer. "Mr fancy will end up challenging me for the lumberjack title, lose badly, and cry in the car er ah truck" I state with an air of smug confidentiality. I smile. We saunter over to the scene of the crime. I move some of the pieces of plastic grill around on the ground with my right foot. "You got insurance right"? I call out toward the creek. There is no answer.
 
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