This scene is being repeated wherever steam shows are going on around the country. This Keck was singing its song in 2011. You can hear it again this weekend at Pinckneyville, Illinois.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Hercules Engine and Pump...
......at the SIAM Show, Evansville, Indiana, June 2014. The name on the surge chamber is Hercules, made by the Barnes Mfg. Co., Mansfield, Ohio. Very nice, active display.
We found this display especially interesting because it is the same brand of pump,(but smaller) as the pump that goes with the Novo engine that Gary Bahre bought from us. His gas engine projects keep him hopping, but one of these days you will see the Novo pumping in a display just like this Hercules.
We found this display especially interesting because it is the same brand of pump,(but smaller) as the pump that goes with the Novo engine that Gary Bahre bought from us. His gas engine projects keep him hopping, but one of these days you will see the Novo pumping in a display just like this Hercules.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Gun Blogger Rendezvous IX, Even More.....!
Zeke (Engineering Johnson) has a couple more surprises up his sleeve that will be traveling to Reno along with Ruger's Mk III Hunter, so stay tuned. Don't delay in registering and making your travel plans. Trust me folks, you will want to be in Reno this year!
Reasons to Attend Gun Blogger Rendezvous IX
Lori (Petoski) Yunker, of Burris, formerly of Ruger has arranged for this BEE-YOOTIFUL Flattop Fastfire Sight to be one of the prizes this year at the Rendezvous. We met Lori in 2010 when she represented Ruger at our Reno Rendezvous.
Acquaintances you make at the Rendezvous will become lifelong friendships and you will treasure your memories of this great event. Go sign up right away, and make your room reservations!
Pinckneyville, Illinois; August 14-17; Be There!
The annual steam and gas engine show at Pinckneyville is on, RIGHT NOW! It is one of the premiere engine shows in the country, and you will see wonderful things there. Here is a 50 HP Bessemer oilfield engine that you will not see traveling to any other shows.
This year you will see an extremely rare 5 HP Falk engine that was rescued in the late 1960's and hidden away in a series of barns until this year, when our friend Gary Bahre put it back in working order.
Less rare, but interesting nonetheless, Gary has also revived our 9 HP Sears Economy that we collected in Eastern Kentucky some thirty-five years ago. He has completed the restoration and will be showing it for your engine-viewing pleasure.
This 1920 vintage Sears Economy engine powered a stone bur mill on Buck's Branch near Martin, Kentucky, providing a source of corn meal for the community of families living on that creek. It also cracked a lot of malted corn that was used for making moonshine locally. The millers who ground meal for folks would keep track mentally of the malted corn they ground and take the toll out of unmalted corn when the moonshiner came to have his cornmeal made. It is all fascinating history, and the mill and engine survive to this day. We have made cornbread for years with meal ground in the old mill, which is now in Southern Illinois.
This year you will see an extremely rare 5 HP Falk engine that was rescued in the late 1960's and hidden away in a series of barns until this year, when our friend Gary Bahre put it back in working order.
Less rare, but interesting nonetheless, Gary has also revived our 9 HP Sears Economy that we collected in Eastern Kentucky some thirty-five years ago. He has completed the restoration and will be showing it for your engine-viewing pleasure.
This 1920 vintage Sears Economy engine powered a stone bur mill on Buck's Branch near Martin, Kentucky, providing a source of corn meal for the community of families living on that creek. It also cracked a lot of malted corn that was used for making moonshine locally. The millers who ground meal for folks would keep track mentally of the malted corn they ground and take the toll out of unmalted corn when the moonshiner came to have his cornmeal made. It is all fascinating history, and the mill and engine survive to this day. We have made cornbread for years with meal ground in the old mill, which is now in Southern Illinois.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Billll's Idle Mind Has Posted The July e-Postal Scores!
Billll ran a tough contest for July, but it was a good one, and we had fun shooting it out behind the barn. Mrs. True Blue Sam beat me for the first time in our years of shooting the e-Postal contests. She hit three of the cotton swabs, while I touched only two. It made the day for both of us. Click Here, or on the target over on the left side of this page to read the results on Billll's Idle Mind. Thank You, Billll, for devising a contest for our worthy blog followers!
If my Sweet Wife's Mother can shoot these e-Postal contests, improving her skills in the process, you can too! The August contest is on the left side of the page.
If my Sweet Wife's Mother can shoot these e-Postal contests, improving her skills in the process, you can too! The August contest is on the left side of the page.
Ruger's Auction To Benefit The LIght Foundation
Once in a while one of these auctions come along and makes me feel like a real winner. Ruger is offering a 3" GP100 from 1988 that was never listed in their catalog. Bidding as I write this is up to $1325; just a little bit north of my price range. I have a very nice S & W Model 66-1 with a 2 3/4" barrel, purchased decades ago that is always close at hand around home. That fine old Smith right now is saving me over 1300 bucks, and I'm loving it more every day. If you have a hankering for a solid, stainless, short-barreled .357 revolver for packing around the homestead, this Ruger is meant for you, and I promise not to jack up your bid. 100% of the proceeds will go to the Light Foundation. CLICK HERE to place your bid. This fine, rare revolver will sell mid-day, Wednesday, August 13, 2914.
$1475!!
$1475!!
Monday, August 11, 2014
Tuesday Turbo Boost
Turn it up LOUD for the first ten seconds!
What brought this song to mind? My little brother sent a video link to me of a real turbo fan. Here you go, real TURBO madness!
What brought this song to mind? My little brother sent a video link to me of a real turbo fan. Here you go, real TURBO madness!
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Great War Centennial: Early Actions As The War Begins
August 7, 1914, the first British soldiers arrived in France, and the Battle of the Frontiers began. No-one knew at this time what this war was going to become. German forces were initially pushed back, but British and French armies were soon to retreat toward Paris, and the Battle of the Marne. Lots of information is out there on the web, and I have included a few links for you to begin your research. This little description is greatly over-simplified, and new developments were happening every day during August of 1914.
Robert Service obviously knew men who were there, if he wasn't there himself. "appy days. The days too good to last."
The Red Retreat
Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the road from Mons to Wipers
(I've 'ammered out this ditty with me bruised and bleedin' feet);
Tramp, tramp, the dim road -- we didn't 'ave no pipers,
And bellies that was 'oller was the drums we 'ad to beat.
Tramp, tramp, the bad road, the bits o' kiddies cryin' there,
The fell birds a-flyin' there, the 'ouses all aflame;
Tramp, tramp, the sad road, the pals I left a-lyin' there,
Red there, and dead there. . . . Oh blimy, it's a shame!
A-singin' "'Oo's Yer Lady Friend?" we started out from 'Arver,
A-singin' till our froats was dry -- we didn't care a 'ang;
The Frenchies 'ow they lined the way, and slung us their palaver,
And all we knowed to arnser was the one word "vang";
They gave us booze and caporal, and cheered for us like crazy,
And all the pretty gels was out to kiss us as we passed;
And 'ow they all went dotty when we 'owled the Marcelaisey!
Oh, Gawd! Them was the 'appy days, the days too good to last.
We started out for God Knows Where, we started out a-roarin';
We 'ollered: "'Ere We Are Again", and 'struth! but we was dry.
The dust was gummin' up our ears, and 'ow the sweat was pourin';
The road was long, the sun was like a brazier in the sky.
We wondered where the 'Uns was -- we wasn't long a-wonderin',
For down a scruff of 'ill-side they rushes like a flood;
Then oh! 'twas music 'eavenly, our batteries a-thunderin',
And arms and legs went soarin' in the fountain of their blood.
For on they came like bee-swarms, a-hochin' and a-singin';
We pumped the bullets into 'em, we couldn't miss a shot.
But though we mowed 'em down like grass, like grass was they a-springin',
And all our 'ands was blistered, for our rifles was so 'ot.
We roared with battle-fury, and we lammed the stuffin' out of 'em,
And then we fixed our bay'nets and we spitted 'em like meat.
You should 'ave 'eard the beggars squeal; you should 'ave seen the rout of 'em,
And 'ow we cussed and wondered when the word came: Retreat!
Retreat! That was the 'ell of it. It fair upset our 'abits,
A-runnin' from them blighters over 'alf the roads of France;
A-scurryin' before 'em like a lot of blurry rabbits,
And knowin' we could smash 'em if we just 'ad 'alf a chance.
Retreat! That was the bitter bit, a-limpin' and a-blunderin';
All day and night a-hoofin' it and sleepin' on our feet;
A-fightin' rear guard actions for a bit o' rest, and wonderin'
If sugar beets or mangels was the 'olesomest to eat.
Ho yus, there isn't many left that started out so cheerily;
There was no bands a-playin' and we 'ad no autmobeels.
Our tummies they was 'oller, and our 'eads was 'angin' wearily,
And if we stopped to light a fag the 'Uns was on our 'eels.
That rotten road! I can't forget the kids and mothers flyin' there,
The bits of barns a-blazin' and the 'orrid sights I sor;
The stiffs that lined the wayside, me own pals a-lyin' there,
Their faces covered over wiv a little 'eap of stror.
Tramp, tramp, the red road, the wicked bullets 'ummin'
(I've panted out this ditty with me 'ot 'ard breath.)
Tramp, tramp, the dread road, the Boches all a-comin',
The lootin' and the shootin' and the shrieks o' death.
Tramp, tramp, the fell road, the mad 'orde pursuin' there,
And 'ow we 'urled it back again, them grim, grey waves;
Tramp, tramp, the 'ell road, the 'orror and the ruin there,
The graves of me mateys there, the grim, sour graves.
Robert Service obviously knew men who were there, if he wasn't there himself. "appy days. The days too good to last."
The Red Retreat
Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the road from Mons to Wipers
(I've 'ammered out this ditty with me bruised and bleedin' feet);
Tramp, tramp, the dim road -- we didn't 'ave no pipers,
And bellies that was 'oller was the drums we 'ad to beat.
Tramp, tramp, the bad road, the bits o' kiddies cryin' there,
The fell birds a-flyin' there, the 'ouses all aflame;
Tramp, tramp, the sad road, the pals I left a-lyin' there,
Red there, and dead there. . . . Oh blimy, it's a shame!
A-singin' "'Oo's Yer Lady Friend?" we started out from 'Arver,
A-singin' till our froats was dry -- we didn't care a 'ang;
The Frenchies 'ow they lined the way, and slung us their palaver,
And all we knowed to arnser was the one word "vang";
They gave us booze and caporal, and cheered for us like crazy,
And all the pretty gels was out to kiss us as we passed;
And 'ow they all went dotty when we 'owled the Marcelaisey!
Oh, Gawd! Them was the 'appy days, the days too good to last.
We started out for God Knows Where, we started out a-roarin';
We 'ollered: "'Ere We Are Again", and 'struth! but we was dry.
The dust was gummin' up our ears, and 'ow the sweat was pourin';
The road was long, the sun was like a brazier in the sky.
We wondered where the 'Uns was -- we wasn't long a-wonderin',
For down a scruff of 'ill-side they rushes like a flood;
Then oh! 'twas music 'eavenly, our batteries a-thunderin',
And arms and legs went soarin' in the fountain of their blood.
For on they came like bee-swarms, a-hochin' and a-singin';
We pumped the bullets into 'em, we couldn't miss a shot.
But though we mowed 'em down like grass, like grass was they a-springin',
And all our 'ands was blistered, for our rifles was so 'ot.
We roared with battle-fury, and we lammed the stuffin' out of 'em,
And then we fixed our bay'nets and we spitted 'em like meat.
You should 'ave 'eard the beggars squeal; you should 'ave seen the rout of 'em,
And 'ow we cussed and wondered when the word came: Retreat!
Retreat! That was the 'ell of it. It fair upset our 'abits,
A-runnin' from them blighters over 'alf the roads of France;
A-scurryin' before 'em like a lot of blurry rabbits,
And knowin' we could smash 'em if we just 'ad 'alf a chance.
Retreat! That was the bitter bit, a-limpin' and a-blunderin';
All day and night a-hoofin' it and sleepin' on our feet;
A-fightin' rear guard actions for a bit o' rest, and wonderin'
If sugar beets or mangels was the 'olesomest to eat.
Ho yus, there isn't many left that started out so cheerily;
There was no bands a-playin' and we 'ad no autmobeels.
Our tummies they was 'oller, and our 'eads was 'angin' wearily,
And if we stopped to light a fag the 'Uns was on our 'eels.
That rotten road! I can't forget the kids and mothers flyin' there,
The bits of barns a-blazin' and the 'orrid sights I sor;
The stiffs that lined the wayside, me own pals a-lyin' there,
Their faces covered over wiv a little 'eap of stror.
Tramp, tramp, the red road, the wicked bullets 'ummin'
(I've panted out this ditty with me 'ot 'ard breath.)
Tramp, tramp, the dread road, the Boches all a-comin',
The lootin' and the shootin' and the shrieks o' death.
Tramp, tramp, the fell road, the mad 'orde pursuin' there,
And 'ow we 'urled it back again, them grim, grey waves;
Tramp, tramp, the 'ell road, the 'orror and the ruin there,
The graves of me mateys there, the grim, sour graves.
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