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Funny Now


rjjammer

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I know everyone that turns wrenches on just about anything has stories that when thought about, would make one wonder how was I that stupid but later makes you laugh.

 

Years ago, I had just finished a 4 year project, I took two Yamaha 750 specials and made one good out if it. It was beautiful! Every bolt removed and all the parts fixed polished and painted. Late one night I ran the bike and saw no problems, all was good I decided I would test ride it the next day. I went to the shop the next morning, put the liability insurance paperwork under the seat and installed the plates. I fired up the bike with the overhead door open, and let it run a bit to warm up. I picked a few tools up and turned my back for a few seconds.... I heard the now familiar whoosh ... I turned to see the bike on fire. Flames are coming out from under the fuel tank!

 

No problem, I grab the fire extinguisher, pull the pin aim it at the fire and pull the handle.

 

Pfffft, Oh Oh all I get is a poof of dust then nothing! Holy Crap! Now what? The fire has gotten bigger now...I am going to catch the whole shop on fire.

 

So I grab the back of the bike and start sliding the thing towards the overhead door. It moved pretty good with it on the center stand and sliding across painted concrete. When I get it to the door... the center stand hits grass and stops dead... at about the same time the fire gets bigger as it has burned through the fuel line.

 

Panic sets in as flames are melting the Styrofoam on the door. Somehow I grab the back of the bike and heave it into the lawn. It tips over and is fully engulfed. As this happens I hear my retired neighbor lady yell to her husband...GARY CALL 911 Rob has a fire!! I cant even remeber how I did it but I kick the fuel tank across the lawn and grab the water hose and the fire goes out. As I stand there and gaze at the pile of smouldering ruins I hear a calm voice behind me, its Gary my neighbor, he says Hmmm I see you got it out it doesnt look so bad. I bet you can fix it.

 

I never did fix it. I hauled the remains, all the parts left over, and anything that had to do with this machine to a guy that wanted it. My wife and I laugh about it now, but in the end I was lucky to not get seriously burned, lucky to not burn the shop down. Even luckier to not have it start on fire while riding it.

 

Moral of the story? Check your fire extinguisher! Have a spare!:225:

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Man, you were lucky but what a dissapointment!

 

I've told this one before but I laff at myself every time I think about it so here goes again...

 

When I bought my 2006 RSMV (it was used with only 1297 kilometers on it) and got it home, the first thing I did was an oil change.

 

Danged filter was so tight I couldn't get it off no how so ... I drilled a big hole in it and inserted a prybar which broke it loose. Keep in mind that I've already drained the oil into a pan which is underneath the bike.

 

Got the filter off, put a new one on, filled up the oil and went about inspecting this and that, polishing here and there, etc .... then I decided to empty the drain pan.

 

When I drained all the oil out of the pan, to my HORROR I found some metal shavings in the bottom. I FREAKED!!! Began to think something internal was screwed and I'd bought a POS. Really!! ... I panicked ... began to shake, sweat coming off my brow, mind racing .... and then ... POW!!! It hit me ... out came a few cuss words, I looked around to make sure nobody saw my stupidity ... and then I started laffing ... OMG!! it was the metal filings from drilling the oil filter!!! :doh: :doh: :doh: :rotfl: :rotf: :rotfl: :rotf:

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Hope it doesn't have to be motorcycle related......

 

In college was helping a friend with his '64 Mustang. I'm not sure exactly what we were doing but most of the stuff was off the top of the engine. For some reason he decided to crank the engine.

 

What he forgot was the carburetor was removed so the fuel pump was just pumping gasoline all over the engine. The plug wires had been disconnected and laying around the engine compartment. Of course the thing lit off.

 

He dumped the bucket with the coolant on the engine, washing the fire out of the car and onto the parking lot of his building. So there was a flaming gasoline/coolant mess spreading over the lot.

 

I grabbed the extinguisher from my car and put it out, which added baking soda to the mess soaking into the melted asphalt. That is when the landlord pulled up......

 

Eventually we ended up rebuilding the engine because the problem was a rod bearing. When we put the brand new engine in he flew over a railroad crossing in the first mile, causing the rusty old car to actually fold in half. He's been carting that brand new Ford 289 around for almost 30 years waiting for a car to drop it into.

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First year or so that my wife and I were married her parents gave us their Pontiac Gran Prix. It had a top end clatter and their mechanic told them it was junk. Well, I figured we may as well drive it till the motor goes. It was just a bad lifter actually, should run a long time and we didn't mind the lifter tick. It was free!

Sure enough after about 6 months I was picking the wife up from work and it flat out died. Towed it home, went to the salvage yard and bought an engine, borrowed a buddies tripod.

2 friends and I spent most of that Saturday drinking beer and doing the engine swap. Once it was all buttoned up we dribbled some gas in the carb and fired it. It ran about 1 minute and died. We then could get it to fire on a spray bottle of gas but not run a lick. Mark is in the driver seat and calls out, "John, does your gas gauge work?"

 

Nuff said? :rotf::rotf::rotf:

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I had just finished a full rebuild on a 400 Small Block Chevy that I was going to "shoe horn" into an S10 Blazer 4X4 I had, and was dying to build into a "sleeper". I had the motor on an engine stand, covered with an old bed sheet. This truck had a 2.8L V6 in it before. I was using a cutting torch to burn some steel plate to bend into mounting brackets for the V8 motor mounts. I had my welding mask on and was burning away when the next thing I know, my wife Jean is squirting me with the garden hose that was attached to the side of the garage. ANGRY doesn't even begin to describe how I was when I flipped off my welding mask, and began to shout at my wife for squirting me with the hose! As I am screaming at Jean like a drunken sailor, she points over my right shoulder, mouthing the word FIRE! I turn to see the bed sheet in flames, and the fire running up the wall board in the garage. I stepped aside, she proceeded to put the fire out, never said a word, and went into the house. Needless to say, I helped myself to a BIG, FAT, helping of humble pie, with ALL of the trimmings. By the weekend, I had a Fire Extinguisher on every wall of the garage, and as I remember there was some Jewelry involved as well. To This Day, I must own 10 Fire Extinguishers which I have all thru the house, the basement, and the shop. The engine suffered minimal damage, I finished the project, much to my delight, and my loving wife never mentioned it again. She saved my "Bacon" that day I assure you! :thumbsup2:

NOW, the rest of you Lugs need to fess up!

Earl

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fire extinguishers and fire protection is my line of work my profession of 7 yrs for any one reading this iask you please go to a fire protection company and get good extinguishers brands to get would be Ansul, Badger, Amerex, Buckeye. Ansul being the Best. avoid Kiddie from walmart, home depot, lowes. the Kiddie is what we in the protection industry call 1 shot wonders, you wounder if it will work. once a year take them to the protection company to be checked and certified every 6 yrs it needs to be maintenance (internal inspection) and every 12 yrs a hydro-static test. for home use they are not governed under NFPA for inspection and certification but i highly recommend it for home and shop. i have several 5 lbs. extinguishers here at the house and a 2.5 lbs. for the Bike

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Way back in the olden days when I was at a buddies house and he was helping me build my first stock car.

I was welding on the roll cage in one of the top front corners. I could hear everyone laughing. Didn't think anything of it, I was concentrating on making a good weld, it was a critical joint on the roll cage after all.

As soon as I finished the weld and flipped up the helmet, I saw flames shooting up from my crotch.

2 Seconds later as I was starting to scramble to climb out of the car window (race cars have the doors welded shut) I was hit with a 5 gallon bucket of water to douse the flames. Fortunately they also had the forethought to have someone turn off the welder first.

 

They all laughed really hard after the bucket of water.

 

Fortunatly for me the only damage don was to the crotch of my jeans:scared:

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I was doing some welding and grinding work a couple of months ago. I had a piece of metal in the bench vice and was cutting it using a cut off wheel. All of a sudden my belly started getting real warm. I looked down to find that my shirt was on fire! :225: Being dumb, I hadn't put my welding apron on and the shirt was an insulated flannel one. That nylon liner and polyester batting sure do burn good! I managed to knock the fire out with my gloved hand. The shirt had a hole about 6 inches diameter in it. Luckily, it didn't burn through my Tshirt.

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I was helping my oldest brother put a rocket 88 motor and tranny in a 64 Impala. He was cutting a 1/4" plate to make a front motor mount, he had his bluejeans rolled up and a gob of white hot metal dropped into the cuff of the pants and down under the tongue of his penny loafers. He had a hot foot that burnt to the bone. That was about 40 years ago and we still laugh about it. :rotf::rotf:

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Many, many years ago I worked at a Ford dealership. There was a Ranchero sitting in the middle of the shop that needed an engine. It was sitting there in the way because of a dispute between the two owners of the dealership. So I volunteer to rebuild an engine for it after hours just to get this thing out of the way. So the rebuilding is done and the engine is in the car. I recruit the help of another mechanic for the final touches. Now comes the startup. Crank,crank,crank. No start. Crank,crank,crank. No start. Check timing. Same thing. Crank,crank,crank. No start. My helper says it should start I'll get some ether. Crank,crank,crank. No start Crank,crank,crank. No start. So we check everything again. Another shot of ether. Now mind you the hood is off of this car and it is sitting inside the shop. Crank,BOOM!!!! The oil fill cap ricochets off the ceiling! The valve covers balloon blowing the gaskets out! The oil pan balloons blowing the gaskets out! And I swear the car jumped in the air! After our ears stopped ringing we quickly replaced the ballooned pieces and proceeded to get it started without, the ether. :D

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I have to pick only one dumb a$$ thing I've done working on stuff. Man thats hard.

Sort of like Flyinfools deal building a stock car. I was welding with an old barn box lincoln welder. I had on a cotton long sleve fatigue work shirt to protect my arms. I had been "popped and burned" a couple times by slag of the pipe I was welding. Being I was making quite a few welds inside the car on the cage I thought I really needed the long sleeves. Well I'm crouched in the car welding an overhead sort of joint. Buzz buzz pop pop, anyone who has welded with one of these things knows how it goes, I think 7018 rod. So I feel my leg is a little warm I just swat at it with my gloved hand thinking it was a piece of slag. Buzz buzz weld a little more still feel the heat. I dont want to lift up the hood because I'm making good progress and keeping heat in it. About 3-4 times now this is really hot and burning, I flip the hood up and was already swatting at the heat between my legs. OH crap my shirt is on fire. I had crouched so in the car that the shirt had made like a shelf across my legs and was catching all the slag and hot pieces popping off. Well was catching them until it burned off all the way up to the lower button before I decided to lift the hood and see what the #@$@ was going on. Part of the long sleve shirt thing came from a day before laying a sweaty arm across some steel grounded with welder. I grabbed the stinger to "give it a quick tack". Do you know the screw in the stinger is live? Also you dont have to be holding it to make it weld. It gets pretty exctin that way though, not recomended at all.

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It was back when I was still in High School that I got my first lesson on priming a carb with gas.

 

I'd bought a Buick Special for a few bucks and several items didn't work. One of them was the gas gauge. No problem right? Just keep track of how far I drove it and throw in a couple of bucks worth of gas now and then. I think gas was .55 cents a gallon back then.

 

I had stopped at the new K Mart on the way home and the car died as I pulled in. I knew I had cut it thin and now I'm going for a walk. Nope, I decide to call dad at home. We only lived about a mile away. He always had gas cans in the shop. So he drives over and brings a two gallon can (the old metal ones) of gas with him. He's laughing at me a giving me a hard time as he pours gas in the tank. He only added enough to get me to a gas station, about half the can. Dad was kind of frugal and reminded me I owed him for the gas.

 

He had me crank it over and it didn't fire up so he opened the hood and pulled the air cleaner. He poured a little gas into the carb and had me crank it again. I popped and ran for few seconds and died. I'm watching under the hood as he "filled" the carb with gas, a lot of it. He yells "crank it" and I hit the key. Then there is this "POOF" and a flash and I jump out of the car to to see flames rolling around my engine compartment and the gas can is sitting between the motor and the fender fall. It's got flames licking up the side of it where the gas had run down.

 

My dad, being of quick reflexes, grabbed the can and threw it as far as he could across the parking lot leaving a trail of burning gas behind. It got even better as the gas in the can is now flowing out and leaving a flaming pool in the lot. Now one of my fondest memories of my dad was him running through the parking lot, kicking the burning can away from cars and cussing a blue streak all the way.

 

To this day I don't know what drew the bigger crowd. The flames in the parking lot or the cloud of old sailor language flowing from my dad. The looks on peoples faces would have covered both I suppose. I always gave my dad credit for creating the term "shock and awe".

 

About the time I heard the fire engines coming I remembered my car. The flames had died out and low and behold the car was running. I put the air cleaner back on and closed the hood and made myself comfortable to watch my dad explain to the cops and the firemen what had happened.

 

The fire department washed down the area and with quite a bit of laughter and back slapping they left the lot leaving me and my dad alone. I pulled over to him a reminded him I needed to get to the gas station. All I got was the "dad" look.

 

Dinner at the house was kind of quiet that night. Nothing was said about the inferno at K Mart. He did remind me I owed him for the gas in the can. He wanted the whole dollars worth to. After dinner he did say that tomorrow we would figure out how to fix my gas gauge.

 

That old singed can sat in the corner of the shop for probably another ten years or so after that. To this day every time I think about priming a carb I still see the image of that can in the corner. And crack up thinking about dad that day.

 

But it was a learning experience for me. Don't let dad handle the gas cans!

 

My dad was an interesting guy. He was a cross between Red Green and Red Foreman. Never a dull moment around him.

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A few years back I had a huge red oak die from oak wilt. This oak was about 4 feet in diameter at the base and had a large branch about 2 foot in diameter, about 20 from the ground. I had to take off this branch in order to drop the tree in my yard instead of on the neighbor's shed. I had an extension ladder propped up against the tree safely lashed to the tree, had my safety harness on and wrapped around the tree about three feet under the branch. Safety glasses, gloves, boots, etc., all ready to cut off this monster branch. Chainsaw was nice and sharp and cutting well until about 3/4 of the way thru the branch I heard it start to crack. Kept on sawing until with a loud crack, it split to about 6 feet down below the branch. Of course this was right where my harness was secured, so when the branch started to go down I was yanked forcefully against the tree and the branch kept on going down, pulling me tighter and crushing the air out of my lungs. Of course, no one was out there with me so I was thinking it was getting pretty desperate. Luckily I still had my chainsaw running so I was just about to try to figure out how to cut through the harness when the branch mercifully split again and hit the ground and stopped puling me against the tree. I stood there for a few minutes catching my breath before I dropped my chainsaw to the ground and began my slow descent.

 

Strike One was forgetting to notch the branch underneath where I was cutting. Strike Two was setting my harness below the branch instead of above. Strike Three was not having someone else out there with me. Luckily the Great Umpire called a ball instead of the third strike so I'm around to talk about it. The branch sat there for a good week until I found the courage to go back up the ladder (not forgetting to remedy the three strikes) and take down that branch. :doh:

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Almost. I had a dead pine in my front yard and I was afraid it would fall on my house.I was carrying a ladder to the front yard to put a cable on it to pull it into the yard and away from the house. My neighbor saw me with the big extension ladder and asked what I was up to. When I told him he said he'd be right over so he could tell the paramedics what happened.

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