Adventures with Ol’ Dan

Yesterday (17 August 2020) I was out at the new barn site leveling off the area between the support pilings and moving gravel around with my tractor. Ol’ Dan has been a back saver over the years but yesterday he got a little ill. Let me tell you a little bit about Ol’ Dan.

I bought Ol Dan in 1997. He came with a front end loader, a 5′ rear blade and a 5′ finish mower. He’s worth every nickel I paid for him.

At our home in New Carlisle we used to put down 40-50 cubic yards of mulch every couple of years. If you can’t imagine how much that is, let me ‘splain it to you.

A cubic yard is 27 cubic feet. A bag of mulch you get at Wally World generally holds around 2 cubic feet. So one cubic yard is 13.5 bags of mulch. 40 cubic yards of mulch is over 500 bags. And 50 cubic yards of mulch closes in on 700 bags. We would have a truck deliver the mulch out in the pasture and use Ol’ Dan to move it to the desired locations. The front end loader could position the mulch at the right spot (usually) and then you could either shovel it out or dump it and move it around by hand. No way in the world would I ever do that using bagged mulch. I’m not the smartest man on the planet but I’m not an idiot. There are people who would debate me on that last part but they can be quiet…I’m telling this story.

One year I had 130 tons of rock and gravel delivered to the New Carlisle house. A little over 70 tons was fist sized rock I used to build a parking pad. Another 60 tons was gravel put down on the driveway. If you bought the rock in 50 pound bags, you would have to haul more than 5,000 bags. Talk about no damn way am I doing that. It took a while, but Ol’ Dan and I moved all that rock to the right place.

I don’t know how many times Ol’ Dan and I plowed a snow-covered driveways, moved big decorative rock, concrete blocks, 2’x4’ concrete slabs, piles of tree branches, lumber, yard tools, chicken poo, and on and on. He makes the hard jobs a lot easier.

Here at the lake house, I put in a 4-car driveway using 30 tons of gravel. And now with the barn, I am moving another 30 tons. So, what does all this have to do with working on the barn site and Ol’ Dan getting ill.

First let me tell you a rule about motorized machinery. If you’re working with a tractor, lawn mower, tiller, weed eater, or whatever, once you start, don’t stop and turn off the machine. It may decide it has had enough for the day and refuse to restart. It’s happened to me several times.

Yesterday I was reminded of my rule when, as Ol’ Dan and I were working, I saw my Excellent Half glide out of the house for a quick chat and a good morning kiss. Not thinking, as I am wont to do on occasion, I shut off the tractor. I knew I made a mistake the second after the tractor shut down, but alas it was too late. So I climbed down off the tractor and chatted with Mrs. Excellent, provided the much anticipated good morning kiss, and hinted at the need for something to eat. I think the hint was “How about some breakfast? There are sausage patties in the freezer.” She said with just a hint of snark, “Do you want biscuits with that?” Innocently and ignoring the snark I said “Sure. And OJ too please.”

As I was reading this to her, my Excellent Half protested that she doesn’t snark, but I am the expert here and I know snark when I hear it. Actually the sausage patty and OJ lines were totally made up. I just did it to tune up my Excellent Half a bit. She did not whack me with a stick but she did give me the EYE.

Anyway, Mrs Excellent went back to the house and I got back on Ol’ Dan, turned the key, and nothing. Not even a click. Ol’ Dan was down and the referee was counting. Grousing about it does no good although it does make you feel better afterwards. But bitch about it while you’re working on it. I can do that; I am a multi-tasker. So I head to the garage to get my tools. This tote weighs almost as much as the Excellent Half’s purse and I carry it back to where Ol’ Dan is parked. I carried it with the arm that has the Medicare shoulder (stupid). But I need the other arm to make rude gestures as I am bitching.

I looked at a couple of spots that I know can cause this problem. There are a couple of wires that are out where a wayward shoe can get at them when you climb up on the tractor. They looked fine. But you should always try the easy things first. I pulled them apart and re-seated them just in case. But no joy – it’s not going to be easy.

The next easiest thing is the battery and battery cables. The battery has plenty of water but is a little low on voltage. I may have a bad cell. But I suspect it’s more about the battery cables and their connection to the battery.

I have been babying those connectors for several years. I can see that the positive side is a mess. The connector is at least 30 years old and very thin in some places. The last time I put a new battery in, I unwisely kept the connector, cleaned it with a rat tail file, and used a standard bolt to reattach it to the battery terminal. That previously brand new bolt is now a rusty piece of junk. As I was loosening it, it snapped in half so that was easy. When I pulled the connector, it decided to break too. It didn’t have any butter on it but I know toast when I see it.

The negative side connector was in much better shape. But the bolt was rusty and I decided to remove the connector, clean it, and reattach it with a new bolt. During the removal process a chunk of the bolt’s head broke off – that’s a new twist. The bolt just couldn’t snap in half like a proper rusty bolt should (snark in case you didn’t catch it). Cue additional bitching. I have to drill it out. Use a small bit to start, move up to a slightly larger bit, and then a slightly larger bit. Drill bit slips and goes right through the connector. Bitch meter just went to 11. The connectors are made out of lead and are super soft. Well, I guess I’ll replace that too.

The Excellent Half calls out that breakfast is ready. I go inside and there it is, the third most perfect breakfast. Scrambled eggs with some green things cooked in, sausage patties, biscuits, and super cold OJ. Baby Dog gets one of the sausage patties. I know you’re not supposed to feed your dog from the table. You take care of your dog and I’ll spoil the crap out of mine. Oh by the way, she loves ice cream sandwiches.

In case you’re wondering, the perfect breakfast has bacon instead of sausage and hash browns with a slice of tomato on the side. The second most perfect breakfast is sausage gravy and biscuits with a slice of tomato covered in said gravy. If you haven’t tried the tomato thing yet, when you do you’ll always want it. So quit wrinkling up your nose and saying eeewwwww.

We ate breakfast and chatted about whatever it was we chatted about. And then, as I always do, I complemented her on the meal and thanked her for her work. I believe it is important to say those things AND really mean them. And I do. She cooks a meal and I really do appreciate it. Life lesson: If you would thank a friend for doing something for you, you should damn well thank your other half and like I said before, you should mean it.

We finish up and I ask Mrs. Excellent if she wants to go to Tractor Supply with me. Her eyes lit up like she had a blank check at Macy’s. She graciously says she would love to. So I grab the old battery (I’m going to replace it) and the connectors and off we go to TSC.  The parts are $167 and some change. But Ol’ Dan is worth it. He’s a workhorse and a good buddy.

We get home, I put it all together. And the referee stops counting as Ol’ Dan starts right up. He whispers, “Are you ready?” I say “Sure thing buddy. Let’s go back to work.”

You didn’t know he talks to me did you? He’s my best buddy.