Ah, the hard work was done...  Or was it?  I got the roof framed, and it was time now to get it shingled.   Before I get to that, the last little bit of framing needed to happen - the cupola.  Here you can see the base I had constructed while framing up the roof:

You can also see the roofing materials nowhere near I wanted them to be - I wanted them on the roof, but there they are on the ground...  Of course, they are the heavy ones - architectural layered shingles, which basically means each bundle weighs twice as much as a regular bundle...  but I digress... 

Here's a rear view of the building, showing the cupola framing and the rear overhang I neglected to include in the last installment of this unending adventure:

It was much easier to frame up the cupola on the ground, as there were several angled cuts to make and it's easier to make any adjustments where the saw is closer than a run down the ladder...  besides, that 8/12 pitch is hard enough to stand on.  That - and I wanted to make sure I got the weather vane installed properly.  I purchased it from The Weathervane Factory located in Bar Harbor Maine.  I had considered something more whimsical, but in the end I am happy with this purchase - it fits the finished design of the building quite well.  Here is the framed cupola, complete with vane, on the floor of the shop:

And - of course - in it's final resting place on the top center of the shop:

The cupola is a functioning roof vent, along with gable vents at each end - there should be plenty of air traveling through the attic space with this setup.   I used pre-made louvers just to save on time and keep them a bit more maintenance free...   In retrospect, I think if I were to build it now, I would use a larger roof on it - something with a little Asian influence - but, I'm not going to tear the thing down for it!

Anyhow - I had the roof sheathed now, the cupola framed and in place, and all that was left was to heft all the shingles up onto the roof.  By my calculations, it was going to take about 18-1/2 square or so, or 56 bundles.  That's 56 trips up the ladder carrying some god-awful heavy material.  Of course - it was mid August, the hottest part of the year... You can't shingle a roof unless it either the hottest or coldest part of the year, you know.

I have mentioned that one of the reasons I was able to build my own shop was because I had become my dad's caregiver after mom passed away.   Dad had come to live with us right at  New Year's, and did quite well at first.  But it was about at this time that his condition (Alzheimer's) became quite severe.  It made working on the shop during the day difficult at best...  Dad had taken to wandering off on me, wouldn't come out to the shop to "help" me any longer, and I couldn't leave him by himself for more than about 10 to 15 minutes, even if he was sleeping.  Usually I would have to wait for my wife to get home from her work to "take over" for me so I could work on the roofing in the evening.  The nights were long, and the weather cooler in the evening, so it wasn't all bad, I guess...  

We took him in to see a doctor and she suggested we contact Hospice of North Idaho - that they might be able to help us out.  What a godsend those people were...  They came out three times a week, giving dad care and me some time to run errands and get some work done.  I cannot thank them enough for their exemplary service, they were truly wonderful.

As a result, I don't have any photos of progress on the roof so here it is magically complete, about a week after Labor Day:

It took me about a month to get it from the picture before to that one.  First to go up was the class A chimney for the wood stove, the mast for the electrical service, then the fascia board followed by the shingle underlayment   Here you can see the mast for the electrical service, and my temporary scaffolding re-erected after being torn down when the roof framing was completed:

It was no fun doing this side of the roof - an 8:12 pitch gets hard to stand on after a while, and I'm no fan of heights...  It took all of my courage at some points.  I did use roof jacks for this side, which made it easier. 

It ended up taking about 19 squares of shingles to complete, I used the heaviest kind (of course!), an architectural "layered" shingle that has a 35 year warranty.  What I really remember is how exhausted I was by this time...  When I did work on the shop, it was at a frantic pace.  The shingles were heavy, of course - and I can still feel the pain in my shoulder from lifting them into place.  I had to wear tape over my fingertips, as rubbing the stone on the shingles had worn my fingernails down to where they were bloody.  Worst of all was that Dad was a 24 hour a day job, as he had no sense of day or night anymore. 

Dad was rapidly getting worse, and I stopped work on the shop to spend time with him.  He passed away on the 21st of September.

The next month was spent bringing him back to his home to be buried next to mom, and to get together with family to decide what to do with their estate. 

Getting back, it was well into October.  Life was about to change for me - no longer tied to the house, I needed to get back out into the workforce.  My focus now was on updating my resume and on storing what I had received as an inheritance from the estate.  When I started the shop, we had no idea how long dad was going to be with us, and there was a finite amount of money to work with.  We had it worked out where once the shop was complete, dad and I could start working out of it, making money out of it, hopefully enough to allow me to remain as his caregiver.  It turned out that wasn't to be, the time with him was too short, and the shop was incomplete.  I wasn't far enough along with it for it to work for its income, so it would have to take the back burner while I once again joined the 9 to 5'ers.

When everything was settled, I did spend some time on the shop buttoning it up for the coming winter.  First was to put some siding on the cupola so the flashing would keep out the rains:

Next was to get the windows and doors installed so the building would be enclosed:

It was finally starting to look like a building!  The overhead door is a 10' x 10' "residential" door from Overhead Door... I'm quite disappointed in it, it's not a very tough door and the panel with the windows is too high to look out of - the only other option would have been to have them be too low... 

I also got the electrical panel hooked up so there was power, but that was about it for the winter.  The next thing I knew, I was reporting daily to a new job and my time for working on the shop was drastically cut back to a few hours a week.  With the cold weather and darkness of winter approaching, not much would happen until spring could shake off the icy grip of what seemed to be the longest, coldest winter...  But there were a few things I could do...

Coming up next - knee braces and some other miscellaneous structural work, and hooking up the electrical...

The idea is simple enough - all you really want is to shed water and hold heat in, right?

When I was designing the shop, I investigated several different methods for constructing a roof.  First was manufactured trusses...  I ruled those out because I knew I wouldn't be able to place them myself.  Another option was to use wood I-beams... This was a really tempting option, and now that I've finished, this is the route I would take today, if I were to do it over again.  Finally, I looked at doing it "old school" - with honest to God 2x10 rafters.

I didn't have any real reason for going that way except so I could say I did... a bit of a romantic notion, I think, of older methods.  I hadn't built anything with rafters for a while and was itching to try out my new Milwaukee circular saw, which I treated myself to as part of my savings for doing all the work myself.  My old saw has been dropped one too many times, and while it still works, it's just a little "shook".

The beauty of having a cad program is the ability to draw out and measure each cut accurately in the ether that is the computer.  Once upon a time, I actually knew how to use the rafter tables on the side of the framing square, but lack of use has sent those memories into their own ether.  My final plan was pretty simple:

In  order to picture the individual members of the roof better, here's a perspective view:

The collar tie keeps the two sides of the roof from spreading - and the v-shape ties the center of the collar tie to the rafters so drywall can be hung off of it's bottom without sagging in the center.   According to the rafter span tables, it could be done - so long as the wood for all of the members was #2 and better Hem/Fir, a common grade/species out here.  I started by crowning the lumber - marking the high point of any curve on the lumber, so when you cut the rafters you can place the curve up.  Then it was laying out and cutting the rafters for the lean-to portion of the roof and setting them in place one at a time:

One main difficulty was going to be the rafters over the main portion of the building.  First, I looked into some scaffolding, but that was going to push the budget too much, which was already strained from the extra costs incurred because of the foundation.  So - I bought some 1x4, took some 2x4's I had extra, and built my own using spare 2x10's for the planks.  It's not something I would recommend for anyone - and it's certainly not an approved method, but it got the job done for me.

Now that I had scaffolding (of sorts) the big trick was going to be setting the initial rafters.  The building is 36 feet deep, and the longest 2x12's I could get to use as a ridge beam were 16' long - which is 4 feet short, as you can see in this photo:

The scaffolding was actually much more stable than it looked, fortunately.  One of the main objectives was for the design of the roof to be completely build-able by one person - which I'm proud to say I accomplished -  but it wasn't without a bit of a struggle.  This is where the struggle came in... I had a pocket built into the wall to hold one end of the ridge beam, and I thought I would just use a board to prop up the end of the ridge beam.  Works well in theory, but not so much in practice.  I would prop up the ridge beam, pick up the rafters which would slide off of the wall at just the moment I was ready to nail them.  So, I placed a clamp on the bottom of the rafter to stop it from sliding.  On my next attempt, the prop I was using would get in my way - I could put one side up, but without the opposite rafter to push on it from the other side, it wouldn't stay in place.

I ended up balancing the ridge beam on my shoulder and picking up the ends of each rafter, all the while holding a pneumatic nailer in my right hand.  Once I got all three into place, a quick shot from the nailer on each side was enough to hold it up while I finished nailing it.

Whew!  That was enough to get me going.  Fortunately, my building skills hadn't completely evaporated from disuse, and the two ridge beams lined up with each other perfectly - though they were about 1" further apart than they should have been.  To pull them together, I looped a 1/4"  nylon rope between the two peaks and using a board, I wound the rope like a rubber band, pulling the two ends together.  When they were the correct distance, I nailed an 8' long 2x2 centered on the opening on the bottom of the two ridge beams spanning the distance.  From there, it was just placing the remaining length of 2x12 ridge beam between.

Lots of people asked me if that was safe - how can you have a ridge beam that is essentially three pieces?  Truth is, the beam isn't structural.  If you wanted, you could nail the rafter to each other without a ridge beam - it's only real function is to give you something to make aligning and nailing the rafters up easier.

With the rafters in place, I built a base for the cupola - which is a fully function vent.  I'll build the frame of the cupola on the ground and place it later in the process...

Finally, the roof was taking shape.   Here's an interior shot with all of the rafters up and in place - notice I haven't put the gussets onto the web and collar tie yet - that's something that can be saved for later work, as for now my main focus is to get the roof on and have it shedding water before the rain season sets in.

One thing I love about where I live is there are definite seasons - and one notable part is their predictability.  From after the 4th of July until mid-September, one can count on very few rainy days.  But there's also a fair amount of heat... and it was the second week of august, traditionally the hottest part of the year.  Something about working on a roof -it either happens mid-winter, or mid-summer - when the weather is at it's extremes for hot or cold... I guess I should just be happy I for the lack of rain...

Next up was the sub-fascia and the lookouts for the overhangs on the gable ends, shown here shortly after the front was complete:

An important note here - the insulation I will be using in between the rafters is going to be about 8 inches thick or so, a "high-density" R-30 fiberglass batt.  It's important that there be a least a 1" to 1-/2" air space above that insulation to allow for air to travel from the soffit to the peak of the roof in each and every rafter space.  The "ladder" that holds up the fascia at the gable ends will effectively block that air from traveling up on the far ends.  To compensate for this, I drilled holes into the ladders that will allow ventilation...  I don't have a photo that describes it well, so here's a graphic representation that also allows you to see how the gable end is constructed:

On the back side of the shop, I want to have an overhang to keep things out of the weather, so that means framing up a roof over that area.  Staying with the common rafter idea, I first built the header that would run the perimeter of the overhang:

Because the main roof would tie into the roof of the overhang, this needed to be done before sheathing.  The beam is a pair of 2x6's with a layer of 1/2" plywood sandwiched between them.  The rafters themselves are also 2x6, with a hip on each corner:

There is an interesting corner that I need to deal with right where the hip on the right side in the photo above meets the main roof - which I don't think I did as well as I should have.  I thought and thought about it, and in the end decided I was thinking too much and just built the thing - in the end I think I should have thought about it more, but time was getting more precious.  Something I haven't brought up before was during all of this, I was also the primary caregiver for my dad, who had Alzheimer's that was getting more severe daily it seemed... Up to this point in the construction, I had been able to spend an hour or two at a time working on the shop without checking on him, but that was getting tougher to do.   But I will get more into that in the next installment...

Once all the work was complete with the rafters, I could take apart the "scaffolding" and re-assemble it onto the east side of the shop for the next phase of construction, sheathing and roofing:

Which was good, because August was now half over and I wanted to get the roof on by or shortly after Labor Day to avoid the rains - and Labor Day was only a couple weeks away.

Look for the next installment of this series - Roofing -coming soon!

Well, it seems my brother had been keeping great great granddad's old spinning wheel - I had forgotten the box that it was in when I left the homestead, and he had been storing it for me. After reading the last piece I did on spinning wheels, he must have read it and remembered he had it -and got it out in the mail to me - because it arrived a week or so afterwards:

It's missing some pieces, but there's a good majority of it still there. The legs and pedal are gone, and it's missing the two pieces that hold the bobbin/axle.

It's an interesting piece to me on several counts... First, it was made by great great grandad... Second, it's a study in wooden machinery - everything has a purpose and yet it's still elegantly constructed. Third, it's an example of true frontier craftsmanship. I'm not sure of the exact date, my best guess would have been somewhere near the 1870 to 1890 range, in the Dakotas. This would have been made with the most meager set of tools, and quite far out in the country... I think I remember reading the nearest flour mill at the time was a full day away.

It's made from at least three, but more likely four distinctively different woods, from what I can see - and I think you can tell somewhat in the top photo. I'm not positive of the exact species, but from my experience with wood and my knowledge of the trees native to the area in which it was made, my best guesses would be birch or elm, maple, and basswood or poplar. I will get into where each was used as I deconstruct the thing.

Metal pieces would have been difficult to fabricate and expensive to purchase, so their use was kept to an absolute minumum. Could he have bought the metal pieces, or had a machinist make them for him? It's a possiblity. The pieces could have been ordered via mail order and shipped to the closest dry-goods store... yet they do all show at least some amount of fabrication. That eveidence could just be the technology of the time showing through, however - I'm just not qualified enough to say.

The only metal pieces are the axle/treadle drive on the fly wheel, the metal hooks on the spinner/flyer, and the axle for the flyer/flyer whorl assembly. The metal reinforcement on the flyer (the U-shaped piece in the photo below) shows signs of hammering to shape, and is riveted in place with metal pins and is surely of his own making.

The part that would have probably been the most difficult to make would have been the axle for the bobbin/flyer assembly... It appears it was made from something else, and made to work. I'm not exactly sure what it would have originally been had he fabricated it - it might even be two pieces, I can't really tell. The center was drilled out from the end and from the side to create the orifice that allows the fiber to be fed through it.... Both holes are off center, and show some evidence of being drilled and filed by hand.

You can see the orifice on the axle of the flyer on the right in the above photo, where the fiber is fed into the wheel. The far end of the axle in the photo above has a small taper to it - and is also threaded to hold the bobbin and flyer whorl on. It looks to me like the tapering was done by mounting the bolt in a wood lathe and tapering it using a file while turning. Fine metal work would have been difficult on the prairie in those days... and this is one of the things that lead me to believe this piece was at least partially fabricated by old great great granddad.

The bobbin (on the left in the above photo), the flyer, and the flyer whorl are all made from a very dense, close-grained wood - my guess is maple, though it could be just about anything of a similar nature. It needed to be, as the walls of the pulleys on them as well as the U-shape of the flyer makes using a strong wood imperative. The bobbinis made from a single piece... You can see by the breaks that it was made from a straight piece of about 3" round wood. The hole the axle slides through goes all the way through the bobbin, obviously - my best guess as to how this was made would be to first drill the hole through the rough blank - then mount the blank in the lathe and turn the bobbin to its final dimension. This would assure the axle hole would be centered on the bobbin. The far end of the bobbin is actually the first pulley you would use as part of the flyer whorl assembly - you see it in the next photo and the one two down that shows the whorl in it's place.

Here you can see the far end of the bobbin and the leather "bearing" that the axle is pushed into (the flyer whorl is not in this photo - it would take up the space between the bobbin and the adjuster piece the leather bearing is pressed into):

Both ends of the axle were mounted in leather bearings... but unfortunately the maiden that holds the closer end was missing on the original. Using another wheel made by granddad's brother, he fashioned the maiden with a leather bearing similarly to how that wheel was constructed:

You can see that it was simply a thick chunk of leather, glued into the maiden. This allows for the bobbin assembly to be easily removed from the wheel, simply by turning the maiden. There's not a lot of pressure on these bearings so they function quite well (as evidenced by dad's copy), and the leather would simply have been replaced as it wore out. Lubrication, if any, would have been tallow or beeswax.

The flyer whorl is made with two different sized pulleys so you can adjust the speed of the flyer - faster for more twists per inch in your yarn, and slower for fewer. More twists made for a stronger thread - but took more raw fiber. Fewer produced more "fluffy" yarns, good for sweaters and the like.... at least that's what I think - I have no experience spinning my own yarn. I still have the flyer whorl for the original, though unfortunately only half of it - but it does show how it is constructed pretty well:

You can see the differing diameters of the pulley to allow the flyer to spin at different speeds depending on where you placed the drive bands. The bobbin spins freely on the axle so is independent of the flyer whorl.  It is driven by its own pulley on the end next to the whorl that is a slightly different diameter - this is so the bobbin would spin at a different speed than the flyer.  Otherwise the yarn would only spin in place - with the different speed it slowly spools onto the bobbin as you feed more fiber into the orifice.

This is known as a "Scotch Brake"...  it basically means the yarn spools quite slowly onto the bobbin, while being twisted (for strength) many, many times for each single time it spools on the bobbin - which is the major function of the wheel.  It is this twisting that gives the yarn it's strength - without it, it would simply pull apart.

A good spinner feeds fiber into the orifice at a steady rate, thusly avoiding thinned out or lumpy yarn that is strong enough to knit.  More twists per inch results in a thinner, stronger thread - fewer provide fluffier, more insulating yarn.

The drive bands would have been simple twine or leather strips, or possibly even yarn - it didn't need a great deal of force to twist the fiber, so grip wasn't terribly crucial - speed was.

You can also see the tensioner knob assembly in the photo above at the top of the aptly named "Mother of All". It's broken as well, but it shows how it was made... A threadbox would have been pretty standard fair in most shops of the time, so that's not too surprising to find. It still works quite well, even after being exposed to the elements for many years.... The Mother of All is broken here as you can see in the photo above and below, but again at least we can see what it looks like:

The Mother of All is so aptly named as it is the main structural element of the wheel - everything pretty much hangs off of it. It, along with the maidens and most of the spindle work (with the exception of the spokes in the wheel) are made from a hardwood I would say is either elm or birch - it's hard to tell exactly as the wood is aged so. But those were common woods used in local furniture of the time - especially turned furniture. Oak was available and used extensively for standard casework, but wasn't preferred for turning because of it's open grain and it's tendency to tear out. I would imagine the elm or birch was riven and turned green, much in the fashion of windsor style chairs, and wedges were used to fasten the tenons to the half-moon shaped base (which I think was made of either poplar - but could be basswood)... There would not have been any kilns in the area, any dried lumber would have been air-dried.

Which brings me to the fly wheel, the most prominent piece of the spinning wheel, has some interesting construction methods. The outer wheel was constructed from four separate pieces. The wheel is made what I think is basswood, though it could be poplar, I suppose... both are plentiful in the area. There are a couple ofreasons that basswood would appropriate here. First, a lighter weight wheel would be easier to spin. Women using these wheels would often spin for many hours on end, for many days in a row... ease of use was paramount in their design. Second, basswood is a very easy wood to work... Mounting a wheel this size and turning it in a treadle lathe would have been quite a task... the easier one could make the task, the better. Third - since these wheels didn't carry a load, like say maybe a wagon wheel would, there would be little or no structural stresses on them, so basswood met the bill.

The pieces for the outer rim were first assembled before they were turned using splines and wooden pegs to hold them in place. You can see here where one of the pegs was placed too far out and was turned into:

The outer wheel itself was not constructed in the same manner as a wagon wheel - where the spokes have tenons that mount into the outer wheel - for the reasons mentioned above. It was first assembled and then turned without the spokes - they were added afterwards. Here you can see one I've pulled out:

After the main hub was turned, the spokes were made to fit inside the outer rim, then holes were drilled through the rim into the spokes - and a wooden dowel was driven in to hold the spokes in place. There just one problem with that - how do you make sure the hub is centered in the outer rim? Well - my best guess is that the hub and spokes were made first. The hub first, then the spokes, which could then be glued into the hub. The hub could then be mounted on a temporary axle and turned, allowing you to mark the end of the spokes in the same location as you turned the hub. The outer rim could then be turned to match this dimension... It's just an educated guess, mind you - but the best I can come up with given the circumstances.

As for the hub, it's one piece, with an axle that mounts into the adjacent spindles thusly:

The far side of the axle has an offset that attaches to the footman, which then is attached to the treadle. And yes - at the lower left of the hub in the photo above, that is a knot... As a matter of fact, it continues through to the other side:

Why would he have used a piece with a knot like that in it, you might ask? I would put forth that it was a matter of convenience... As I mentioned above, a lot of the wood used for the contruction of this wheel would probably have been worked green. The wheel would have had to be dried wood though. Most likely that meant that it was was harvested from already dead wood - possibly even seasoned firewood. There wasn't storage space available for storing wood while it dried... The house they lived in would probably have been the size of your living room and housed 5-7 people... The barn would have been similarly small was soley for livestock. The shed that served as a shop would have been more like a lean-to, perhaps with a pot-belly stove if the owner was well-off. So dried wood was a luxury most couldn't afford, but for the wheel it would have been necessary as green wood would have shrunk and rendered the wheel useless. So it's my guess it came from whatever was available - and since it didn't need to be all that strong, it wasn't a problem structurally. Also, I should mention that the knot would not have been this pronounced when it was made - this particular wheel was exposed to the elements for many years, so has weathered quite a lot. Originally, it would have been a very tight knot.

About all that's left is the base, legs, footman, and treadle - and all I have of those is the base... The base is made of poplar, it appears. I remember hearing the half-moon shape was a sort of trademark of his, but I'm not sure of this... compared to the other his brother did later, its a unique feature and was supposedly preferred by the people who used them as they were stronger. I do recall hearing that this makers' work was highly prized by those who received it, at least within the area he lived.

I may restore this old wheel someday - no, it will never be in working order again, but I may try to get it just so it is all in one piece and has all of the parts, just for display. I doubt it's worth much to anyone but me - but it sure is fun to have around to look at and to study, to give one appreciation for the original maker and the methods and material he used in creating it.

The maker, my great-great granddad, was a very adept turner, furniture maker, and woodoworker. He used green wood quite a bit, as I think can be seen in another of his works which I will show just for reference - a crib made of elm:

It appears he also used steam to bend wood, as you can see - obviously a very industrious fellow for someone truly out in the sticks... This crib was used all the way into the 1960's as I recall... It's been retired for obvious reasons since then, but still remains in the family, well over a century after it was made.

Though it does show a little of the environment I grew up in - these were the first thing I thought they were singing about the first time I heard that song...

No, I'm talking about the real thing, which are used for making yarn from raw materials such as wool or cotton:

This one is an antique, made sometime in the later half of the 1800's, and was built by the brother of this man - my great great grandfather:

Jon Vium (my great great grandfather) was well known for his handmade spinning wheels, and he made dozens - if not hundreds - of them that he sold to neighbors and at market.  He was an avid turner, and used a treadle lathe.  He lost his leg when using an adze to flatten some birch - he missed and hit his foot.  This was far out in the sticks, so doctors were several days away at least.  A member of the family was sent to retrieve the nearest doctor, but by the time he was able to get there gangrene had set in.  The amputation took place on the kitchen table, and the sterilizing agent and anesthetic used was whiskey...  There's more, but suffice to say not many can say they have it so tough today.

Even after losing his leg, he continued turning - with the treadle lathe - until his death.  I used the above picture of a whell his brother made because while there may be some of his spinning wheels remaining, I don't know where they are...  There was one that had sat outside for many years, and though it was heavily weathered and missing pieces, dad was able to create a reproduction of the wheels that granddad made using it as a reference along with the wheel pictured above - here's  his version, made in maple:

Dad was very proud of his recreated spinning wheel.  It's as close a copy as he could come up with given what he had to start with.  Here's a different view:

Spinning wheels are literally spin fibers such as wool (and other materials) into yarn for use in knitting.  I don't think I can remember my grandmother when she wasn't halfway through another knitted quilt - she was prolific.  She made hundreds of them... I still have several myself that she hand knitted - but she usually bought her yarn at the store in the later half of her life... though I remember telling her showing my mother how she would use the spinning wheel when she was younger - it was on a wheel much like these.

 Fibers first need to be "carded", where a pair of "carders (wooden handled planks with a series of metal combs are used to literally comb the fibers straight - here's grandmother's pair, with a "rolag" of wool started next to it:

I won't go too much into the process of spinning yarn, but if you are interested there are other sites more with more experienced information than my own...  including http://www.joyofhandspinning.com/ and some videos on YouTube.   Basically, the fiber is combed straight and rolled up into a "rolag" like above, then one end is mounted in the wheel.  Once you start spinning the wheel, it pulls on the fibers as you feed it, and it twists them at the same time, like a rope at the same time spooling them onto a bobbin.   Twisting makes the thread stronger by intertwining the individual fibers into one continuous thread that you can't pull apart without a good amount of effort. 

My uncle was so impressed, that he took dad's wheel and made his own version - his in walnut: 

These are built as closely as we know to the originals great granddad made, and both of them work - as they have been used.  But - not much, I think... just enough to prove they work.   Most people these days don't knit, much less spin their own yarn anymore - but as with anything, there are still a few out there who are continuing the craft.

Most of the parts for each are turned on the lathe...  These wheels were made using a jig and a router, though originally it would also have been turned on the lathe using a face plate and jig.  The string you see around the wheel is the drive belt...  it rides in one of a series of grooves directly above the wheel - each sized differently so different speeds can be used.  The higher the speed, the more twists per inch are produced on the yarn.

 This particular style of wheel is known as a "castle" wheel, which was popular for those who want to travel with the wheel, or have just a small amount of room for it - the latter of which would have been the case for most of my ancestors.  The houses were not large, so if something could be made to take up less space, the better.

These wheels are an exersize in functionality and design - they are beautifully designed wooden machines that are truly an art form.  I've always been drawn to them, as they are the most aproachable tool - they look like some sort of fancy furniture, but were one of the basics of life not so many years ago, when people used them to make their own fabrics, sheets, blankets, and clothing.  There wasn't a Walmart on the corner, and if there was they couldn't have afforded it anyway.  Their only choice was to literelly make their own - well, everything, almost...  One simply has to respect that sort of independence.   There are modern makers who have updated the design to work better and use modern technology (ball bearings!) - but most of the modern incarnations seem soulless to me, lacking that part of them that I see as art.

When I was younger, I always wondered how such a cool song could have been about a spinning wheel...

Of course - when I read the lyrics, I realize that the song is really about a homeless guy in a Mustang...

A question on dovetails on WoodCentral led to a discussion of their history, and one of the posters produced a link to a photo of a box with some of (if not the) earliest examples of dovetails on record:

Ancient Roman box, dated from the 2nd or 3rd century, currently located in Limesmuseaum Aalen (German language site) in Baden Württemberg. See the original link (Google translation) to the photo on woodworking.de.

It's a fascinating piece, I think most would agree.  I love this sort of old research...  and there's some real sophistication in the design of this box - though I guess sophistication shouldn't be a surprise when you review artworks of the period.  Helenistic statues display the foremost sophistication, for example...  But I digress

The poster also included an informative link to another German site on Roman woodworking tools I also found very interesting.

This box some fairly sophisticated woodworking - and obviously the dovetails' design is well developed at this point.   It's pretty obvious to me that they've been around for (literally) thousands of years...  Interesting that the idea of craftsmanship hasn't really changed all that much in all this time, isn't it?  There is a legacy to woodworking that goes back hundreds of generations, which is something that is easy to forget in the "we do it so much better now" frame of mind.

 It reminds me of some of the items that have been passed down to me..,.  One of my most treasured came from the old country with my grandparents - it's a traveling/storage box known as a "koffort":

This box was originally made in Iceland, and my parents both believe it is at least 150  years old, and was quite possibly much, much older than that.  It was handed down to my father from his great grandfather when he was 13 years old...  By dad's account, his great grandfather had told him that "it was very old" when he himself had received it from his great-grandfather when he was 13 years old in 1933.  If we trace that path, his great grandfather would have been 13 years old in 1868, a difference of 65 years.  I don't know where, when, or by who it came into his great-grandfathers possession - but if it was "very old" then, I would guess that makes it at least 50 years older than that, which puts it at 1818 or so - and it could easily be yet older - but I have no documentation or even any oral history beyond what I've told you.

The construction of the box is quite simple and elegant - very similar to a "six board chest", but without any legs and a slightly more involved lid design.  The corners are dovetailed, and an iron strap has been added for strength at each corner:

I doubt the strap was original to the box - most like it was added some time later.  These boxes were heavily used and abused, and traveled with the owner all over creation.  Often they would also be used like what you would use a safe for today...  The angled "handle" on the side is repeated on the far side and is angled to make the box easier to be packed on the back of a mule, horse, or ox.

Inside the only additional item is a small tray at one end:

Looking closely at the tray, you can see it's also dovetailed - and you can see the primitive hinges, which I also believe are not original:

The fact this is also dovetailed is important in showing the attention to detail this box was given during it's construction.  One also has to remember that when this box was built, Iceland had no real native timber of it's own.  Almost all wood came in the form of imports from abroad or, and this is more likely the case for a personal item like this, from driftwood.  Logs would follow the current up to the shores of Iceland having started anywhere along the shore from the Caribbean to upper Labrador in Canada.  Wood, therefore, was quite precious.

Another similar example I have is a larger version of the koffort, which I guess is called a "kista":

This is from mother's side of the family.  It's not nearly as old, I believe mom thought it dated to the late 19th or early 20th century.  It's a little more crudely made, but still uses dovetails in it's construction:

 This particular box sat in a dirt floor barn for many years, and the bottom had rotted out of it.  Dad repaired it at the same time he refinished the koffort.  He did a good job at the restoration, but I'm not so proud of the finishes he chose.  But still, I'm proud to have them both here with me.

In my spare time over the last couple of years I've been working  on my own version of a koffort.  I'll post about it someday when I'm finished, but needless to say that anything I do will pale in comparison when you consider the history of these pieces, which is what I think truly makes them special.  I can only hope that, some couple hundred years from now, somebody is marveling over my creation wondering who the craftsman was that made it, why he did, and if he was as proud of his koffort then as I am of owning it now.

Part VI

With the foundation finally out of the way, it was time for my part to start - framing. I find framing fun, so long as it's not my regular job... and I have done it in the past, so I wasn't too nervous about doing it, except for one thing - the wall framing would be full of angles and small complications that would challenge my abilities... but then again, I like a challenge.

I started by putting together a list of materials I would need, and set out to visit suppliers to get some prices. I'm fortunate to have a large number of building supply outlets all within a close distance to where I live... I didn't get to a fraction of them and I visited two borg stores, a lumberyard associated with a nation-wide chain, 1 local franchise lumberyard (several different locations, but all of them are located within a 100 mile or so radius), and two locally owned lumberyards to get prices. The borg prices were not all that far out of line - but those places simply aren't set up well for putting together large loads and they were the furthest from my house, not to mention the service was basically non-existent from these two places in my experience, so I ruled them out almost immediately.

One of the two locally owned lumberyards' clerks told me that "their estimator is out on a job today - but I'll take your list and he'll get back to you first thing tomorrow"... I never heard from them again. Honestly - if they can't call me back on a larger purchase like this they either don't want or deserve my business. I did notice these guys were out of business/were bought out about a year later - I wonder why?

The national chain store lumberyard's prices were relatively high for my tastes. A friend who was also pricing out a shop told me they were by far the cheapest he had found - but he was buying a packaged garage design, vs. my "custom" order, so that may have had something to do with it.

That left two yards to visit, and these two yards became the final 'competitors' for my business - the local franchise and the other local lumberyard. The cheapest cost I found was at the local franchise store (who also happened to have the closest store), with two caveats - their lumber was of lower quality and their service wasn't all that stellar (not bad - just not stellar). The local yard was more expensive, but the quality of their material was much better... But something else happened while I was at the local yard that convinced me to go with them...

While getting a list of prices from one of the clerks, he asked the fellow behind him what the current price was on OSB, who looked at my list to see how much I was looking for. He said something like "well, for this much I think we could do $6.75" (which was 25 cents more than the other's price). He then looked over and started asking me about what I was building, and we struck up a conversation. Turns out he was the owner of the yard, and we both came from similar backgrounds... In the end, he won my business the old fashioned way. It did cost me a few hundred dollars more to do business with him, but I can say now that the price was well worth it - his little lumberyard gave me by far the best service of any I had dealt with up to then - or have since.

From there, i took my material list and divided that list up into the order needed, starting with the wall framing and roof framing, the roofing, and the trim, siding and interior work. This would allow me to pick up materials and not have to have them sit outside or be in the way while I was working on the building... Here's the very list I used:

I had decided to use 2x6 studs @ 16" O.C. (On Center) for a couple of reasons - first, for the insulation value. In the large scheme of things, they don't cost all that much more money over using 2x4's. Second, one of the main tenets of the gathering darkness that is the future is the cost of energy. It may or may not happen, but to me it's better to be over-insulated rather than under. Energy costs can become crippling - though they are "relatively" inexpensive now, that may not always be the case.

This is also the biggest reason I don't have a large amount of windows - though I may regret this decision the most of all Natural daylight is a huge bonus, but it does come at a price. There's not just the initial cost of the glazing, there's the added cost for heating to consider. I did end up bumping up the size of the windows to the next size, which I think was a good decision.

Another reason is so it holds what's nailed to it without "waves". Structurally, 2x4 studs at 24" o.c. are fine, and will easily hold up the building. You could probably get away with even less... But then any siding you nail to it, or drywall, or even plywood - will not be held straight and become wavy over time. It might not be right away - but it will happen.

Anyway, I now had the material, and it was time to start building. The very first walls I needed to build were the most complicated - the north and south ends, both having a gable; and since I was using rafters and not trusses for the roof, it meant the studs would have to be framed old-style.

I used to know how to use the a framing square, and all the functions that go with it like rafters and the like. But it's been too long, and not having used that knowledge it's long slipped from my grasp. Fortunately, I am an architect - and have access to computer drafting programs that allow me to size each stud *exactly* and help me layout their location on the top plate even though they are angled - here's the framing plan for the north wall:

You can easily see the benefit of knowing how to use a cad program here. I was able to size each individual member and provide for space for the lookouts all before lifting a nail. I printed out a copy of the above and framed up the main part of the wall (not including the lean-to part) exactly as shown on the floor of the shop, and did the same for the south end (which I will show further down). Then, it was time for an old fashioned "barn-raising" - I gathered a few friends and relatives to help me put the walls up:

Most of the time, you would build the wall so you could tip it up right where it wanted to live - but I could only get these guys together for the one day, so I built both the north and south walls to have them ready... There wasn't enough room on the slab to build them in place, so after we got the wall up we had to shimmy it down to it's final resting place and lift it up over the anchor bolts. I don't mind telling you - these walls were HEAVY! The more help the better.

A sill seal goes down first to fill small gaps between the bottom plate and the concrete foundation wall. The bottom plate is treated wood by code - this is done as it's the most likely location for water to puddle and over time rot the wood.

Once in place, the wall were roughly plumbed and then braced with 2x's tied to stakes driven in the ground or using a pair of 2x's to form a triangle on the inside. These were the only two sections of the wall I planned on tipping up like this - the rest would be built in place by myself.

Next up was the south wall:

The studs were all sized in that drawing, and I created a second drawing to help me lay out their location on the top plate:

Then it was on to putting up that wall:

After it was in place it was also roughly plumbed and bolted down to the anchor bolts in the foundation:

Once the walls were up and the help was gone, I went through and plumbed the two walls. To do this, I parked one vehicle on each side of the wall and tied a rope on each side of the wall, in a loop around the top of the stud and plate where the existing brace we had put up was located down to the bumper of the vehicle. I left a little slack in each line and using a stick, tightened the line like the cord on a bow-saw... Once the slack was all taken up, I removed the nails holding the brace and re-plumbed the wall, tightening the side it needed to go to by twisting the rope on that side more until the wall read plumb., then nailed the brace back into place. You can apply a great deal of pressure using this method, and I was able to plumb the walls around the entire building using this method.

Then it was on to the east wall (the top in the graphic below), which I framed in-place:

The headers over the windows and overhead door are triple 2x10 with a 1/2" plywood core, a diagram of which I will show in a minute... The .

This tied the north and south walls together on the east side, but I then figured should tie the west end of these sections together at the spot where the "main" roof butts into the "lean-to" portion of the roof - the spot labeled #7 in the graphic below:

This is to be the main beam for the roof at that spot, so it needed to be a pretty substantial - and straight - beam. I started by first setting up the two 6x6 columns at their planned locations that the beam would rest on (asking a beam to span 32'-0" is a bit much for traditional construction), as to split the span into thirds. A "U" shaped Simpson column base is bolted into the concrete and fastened to the column with nails and plumbed by forming a triangle with a pair of 2x4's nailed to the column to hold them in place - you can see them in the photo below (with the beam already in place):

The columns at each end are simply nailed together 2x6's that rest within the confines of the stud wall.

It was then time to construct the beam. The beam is made up in layers - first a 2x10, then a layer of 1/2" CDX plywood, then another 2x10, a second layer of CDX, and finally a third 2x10. It works out well with the layers of plywood, as then it ends up the same width as the 6x6 column it rests on:

It's great to have an air nailer for jobs like this - it would wear you out quickly nailing all of this by hand, there are a LOT of nails. Fortunately, I still had my old framing nailer from back in the day.

There was no way I was going to be able to construct the beam on the ground and lift it into place on my own, so I constructed it in place by placing the first 2x10 in place (crowned so the higher point is pointing up), holding it by nailing scraps of plywood to Then it was the next 2x10, and so on until the beam was complete:

A composite beam like this is stronger than a solid beam... the layers help guard against natural defects in the wood, and provide a more homogenous beam across it's length. It's still a bit of a stretch - and by code, these beams aren't heavy duty enough to span the entire distance - so I will add in some knee braces later in the construction process. For now, they will be enough.

To level the beam I used the old bucket of water with a clear hose trick, the same sort of one one documented here on the Taunton web site. I had tried a line level, which is what I used to determine the length of the columns, but ended up having cut the columns about 3/8" too short... Using the water level eliminates such inaccuracies - but I hadn't remembered the trick until after I had cut them. They can be a little difficult to use when you are by yourself and trying to measure a column that has nothing holding it up yet anyway, I guess... Anyway, the short columns were an easy fix with a "shim" of 3/8" plywood.

From here it was a matter of finishing up the rest of the walls and installing the sheathing, which ended up being 7/16" OSB:

There are some that don't like this product, and will only use plywood... Truth is, this material will work just fine for sheathing and is more environmentally friendly than plywood is. And - here's the real issue - it was cheaper.

For bracing, the sheathing on the four corners of the building were specially nailed to create what known as a "braced wall panel". This is done to stiffen the structure against it's natural tendency to lean. The special nailing basically means using ringshank nails 6" o.c. around the perimeter and down each stud line. Another good reason to have a nailer handy - that's a lot of nails.

One thing to remember here, which I nearly forgot:

You can't get into these corners after you've nailed the sheathing on - and if you don't, the corner will always feel cold in the winter and it will be a spot where heat can escape the envelope. Taking your time to insulate the building properly can make a HUGE difference in your heating bill, so if you are building a shop I would suggest you do this - even if you are not planning on insulating it. Someone may want to someday - and it's not much money to do now, but will cost you plenty later should you decide to heat the building.

That's probably enough for this installment. Up next - the roof!

I know it's been a while, but I haven't been completely idle on the old truck project.... While I'm not directly working on it (I'm still in the collection phase), there's been a few developments worth note...

First - I picked up an engine and transmission. The engine is a 4-bolt main 350 chevy, I'm not sure of the year, but it's a good block. It's a rebuild, but it has less than 20k miles on the rebuild, and the bore and grind are virgin - never cut. There are some that might be taken aback some by putting a Chevy in a Ford, and I had those thoughts too... Truth is, I've been a Ford person all my life, and when I think back on my experiences - well, I don't feel too bad about stuffing a Chevy in there.

The tranny is a Chevy TH350  also with less than 20k miles (from the same place), and as it's geared it will work out well with the 2.75 gears in the Ford 9" rear end I acquired. I was considering a 700r4 overdrive transmission, but the price was right for the TH350 - and with it working with the rear I have I couldn't turn it down. It was a good price too - my brother got it as a trade for some work, and he traded it and the engine to me for a really decent price.

I've been remiss in showing some of the research that I've done in choosing these as my drivetrain - I hope to remedy that with the following, taken mostly from emails I was trading with my brother, out of old textbooks, and of course off of the web. Note - I make no claim as to the accuracy of any of this information, and the large majority of it was gleaned off of several diferent web sites, some of which are linked to, and some of which I have lost or simply combined information from many different sites.

While I'm at it, I should list some of the research I've done on the Ford 9" - the one I ended up with is out of a 1977 Lincoln Versaille, which I think will fit perfectly - though that has yet to be seen...

I looked at some old Ford Galaxies that were good candidates for width, but in the end the Versaille rear end came up on the local craigslist.com at a fair (but not cheap) price - so went with it.  What this all ended up telling me is that I am not going to go with a fuel injected, computer driven system like I first envisioned, but a naturally aspirated, old-school setup.  I'm more familiar with that setup anyway...

Back to the search: 

Other parts have been showing up at the door on occasion... First, an original stainless steel grille trim with only the most minor ding:

They do not make a replacement trim that I have found, and the grille I have didn't have one - so this was a good find. Next up, a piece that was supposed to be included with the parts I initially bought, but "mysteriously" was missing - the windshield frame:

There are companies out there that make a windshield frame, the cost is around $300 for a plain steel frame, and closer to $700 for a chromed one. The one I got cost 1/3 of the painted style and is in excellent shape - and as a bonus contains a windshield I may actually be able to use... Next at the door was the passenger side of the hood:

I have a full, complete hood, but the fins on the right side are pretty banged up. This one, while it has a good amount of surface rust on the exterior, is in much better shape. For $30, it will save me hours of work straightening metal. Here's the interior:

Now - one of the rarest body pieces you can find on a '36 Ford pickup is original steel rear fenders. There are no steel replicas made, all that's available is fiberglass at a cost of about $275. I have a pair of original rear fenders, but they are in pretty sad shape. I've been always on the lookout for replacements, but it often seems they go for between $900 and $1200 a pair, more than I want to spend - I can probably repair the ones I have for less than that. I did finally find one, a driver's side that I got for a somewhat fair price, though the fender needs substantial repair:

The crack is nasty, going through half the width of the fender:

Not only that, but there's the typical rot you find at the spot below the floorboards:

Still - even with all that wrong with it, it's still in better shape than mine. I'll still keep an eye out for another, esp. a passenger side - and if I end up with extras I'll either use my originals as source material for repair, or sell them at some point. I still may have to fix them, too - the one depends on how bad this one is once I get into it. Mine doesn't have much for rust, but it looks like someone was hooking a chain to it to try pull fence posts out or something... I would probably need an English Wheel to straighten it out, along with some metalwork that's quite likely well above my head.

That's it for now - I'll add more as it comes.

Part V 

One of my favorite lines in a movie was in one of the Naked Gun movies (with Leslie Nielsen) where Ricardo Montalban was playing the villain.  When asked by Priscilla Presley how he could be so evil his response was something like:

"You forget I spent two years as a building contractor!"

Of course that's in jest (?).  You know - there are, of course, good and bad contractors, and I've dealt with my share of each - and the concrete contractor I used for this project was quite unfortunately of the latter persuasion.  I was really disappointed in his work - and I even gave him a second chance the next year to pour the slab out front of the shop for me - but that's for a later entry...  If you are looking for a general contractor, or even just a "sub" contractor, make sure you check references and investigate your choices with the local builders' association.  Above all - you will need patience and perseverance to be successful.  Don't expect perfection - but be ready to stand your ground when needed - and pick your battles well.  Know what's important, and what's not. At the time, there was a shortage of available contractors for me to hire, and I was not patient... 

But first, I should go over the design of the foundation in a bit more depth...

The Design

There were two different foundation systems I looked into using.  My first consideration was to pour what's known as a "monolithic" slab - that's where the footings, stem wall (if there is one) and the finished floor are all poured at once, in one big pour...  The section through such a system looks something like this:

There are several advantages to a system such as this.. It is the most efficient system, combining the footing, wall, and slab all into a single, large system.  There is considerably less labor involved in the pour, but the earthwork needs to be done more precisely to save fill requirement.  And finally if termites are an issue in your part of the country this type doesn't allow anyplace for the nasty little buggers to penetrate from underneath.  It does have a couple of disadvantages as well...  One is that the bottom of the wall is more prone to water damage, as the top of the concrete can be only slightly above grade level...  and because of that, it also does not work as well on a sloped lot.  Though it's hard to see in the photos below, my lot slopes down from right to left (east to west) about a foot in the width of the shop.  It might not seem like much, but it is a lot of fill to bring in.   I prefer to work with the slope of the land rather than fight it...

Another disadvantage - at least for me - is that I wanted to have the entire floor of the slope 1/8" per foot from the back end to the front - a drop of about 4", so it would drain and I wouldn't have water puddling up in the center of the floor if I parked a snow-bound car inside.  That would make it difficult to frame up so it is level... This might not be an issue for you, but my experience has been to keep the space as flexible as possible - and that means uses other than woodworking.  The next owner of my shop might want to work on cars, for example - and so will I, for that matter.

The final disadvantage is I wanted to be able to hose down the slab in the main section of the shop if for some reason it needed it...    I can seal a rubber base down for some walls, but doing all would be too much.  So - it meant I would opt for the more expensive version (of course) - a stem wall type foundation.  Here's a typical section for that style of  foundation:

You can see that now the foundation wall is independent of the floor slab, so with this system I can slope the floor and not worry about framing the exterior walls plumb and level.  The slab at the far back of the shop would be about an inch below the top of the foundation wall - and about 5 inches below it at the front.  This works out well for the driveway slab to be poured out front of the shop - it will work out to be about the right height so the foundation wall can be above finish grade level by about 8".

You can also see why more labor is required to make it...  Instead of one pour for the entire foundation and slab, the work now has to be divided into three separate pours...  First you must form up the strip footing so it is below frost depth and pour it - then you must form up the stem walls and pour them; and then, finally, you pour the floor slab.  Three separate pours...  It uses the same or more concrete, and your contractor must have the form work to be able to pour the stem walls.  There are many concrete contractors out there that do only flat work - they don't want to invest the money into the forms required, and most often they can get away without investing in too much heavy machinery.  If you do it yourself, you can easily make your own forms, and rent your own machinery... but it's an added expense, and not a small one.  You could use the forms afterward as sheathing - but you need to coat the forms with a release agent (usually an oil) that can make it less than desirable for use as sheathing.  My neighbor rented a backhoe to do his shop, and by the time he was done with it, he'd spent $1100 or so just for it.

What determines how deep you put your foundation is set by the local building department and is what's known as "Frost Depth" - the depth at which the ground does not regularly freeze.  Freezing ground is bad for a foundation. Water expands when froze, and as a result lifts and stresses the foundation, and over time that stress can result in the foundation failing.

Frost depth in my area is about 2'-0" below finish grade.  With an 8" deep strip footing at the bottom, that means we can use a 2' deep stem wall - which will give us two feet below grade if we keep the finish grade at a maximum of 8" below the top of the stem wall.   Frost depth varies around the country... in warmer climates, there isn't one, just a requirement the footing be on inorganic undisturbed soil or compacted structural fill.  Where I grew up in the Dakotas, it was a full 4' below finish grade.  It's one reason you will see so many basements in the north vs. the south - you are required to go so deep anyway to get down to frost depth with your footing, there's no good reason not to make it just a couple feet deeper to make it a basement.

Optimally, I would have used the detail above, with a 6" wide stem wall.  Structurally, it's plenty strong to hold up the building. it also keeps you from having problems with applying the finish material - when you install the drywall (or plywood, or whatever finish material you have) the inside of the wall will line up with the concrete.  What I ended up with was more like this, however:

Note the foundation is 8" wide, not 6".  One other difference that is shown on that detail that I don't have - insulation.  I got none.  Nada.  It's a sordid tale - I'll let you know as I go through the photos of the construction below just how I arrived with that detail.

Strip Footings

The first job after you dig the trench for the footings is to form up for the strip footings.  It's pretty simple, really - your biggest concern is setting them at the right height.   You want the footings resting on undisturbed, inorganic soil (or compacted structural fill), just below frost level.  Your building department will be able to tell you just how much your soil can support, and thusly how big your footing needs to be.  You can check with them to find what frost level is in your part of the country.  You then want to form so the top is level and gives the footing a minimum depth (in my case 8").  You can use the excavated soil for the sides of your forms at the very bottom - but it's best to have most of it formed with footer boards to make sure the edges are held in place correctly, which will allow you to estimate just how much concrete you need.  It's always better to overdo the forms rather than under-do them, as nothing sucks more than a blowout during a pour.

The easiest way to set the level is if you have a builder's level or transit and a pole, which can be rented for fairly little money.  You set stakes in the ground at strategic points and with the aid of a helper, shoot the top of the stake, then drive it down with a sledge until it's at the right height.  Do this with each successive stake, then using a string line, a plumb bob, and batten boards, drive a pair of stakes in about every 24" or so (more or less depending how good your soil is) and nail the footer boards on the inside of the stakes - which you've placed just for that purpose, using one of the sides as a guide.  Once in place, you can reinforce the footer boards by putting nailers across the top to help keep them from spreading apart while pouring, as this crew did:

For reinforcement, mine has two #4 rebar (#4 means 4/8" or 1/2" diameter) running the length of the tooting.  An additional rebar can be added perpendicular to these every four feet or so, but I am fortunate enough to have soil with a great load carrying capacity, so it wasn't necessary.  The next step is to pour them, obviously...  but I wanted to show the photo below for another reason:

 Look at that nice, green lawn.  By the time the concrete was done - they had torn the living snot out of my yard.  I tried to keep them from doing too much damage, and I even roped off the area where my drain field was located to keep them from driving their 574 ton trucks over it - which could easily crush the pipe.  Or should I say did?  For some reason, I'm telling you - it was like trying to keep flies of of s__t.  I came home after bringing dad to a doctor's appointment to find they drove right over my little tape barrier like it wasn't even there.  Not only did this happen once, but it happened several times over the time they were there.  My drain field still works, but it's capacity has been cut about in half from what it was - no more "super" loads in the washer for us...  and a healthy repair bill someday when I do half to replace it.  The one guy I was most worried about - the kid with the skid hoe - was easily the most careful and professional and did by far the least damage of any of them.

Stem Walls

So afte