I stopped in at my mechanic's garage this morning to arrange an oil and filter change for later this week. Joe's what you might call a "country mechanic", in the sense that he's a licensed car mechanic but without any of the expensive computer diagnostic equipment in most modern shops these days. For that reason he does most maintenance and repairs but not all. And also he's as likely to have some unusual vehicles in his shop as a regular 'ol car. I've seen vintage automobiles and lawnmowers, farm pickups and luxury cars. He did a nice job on his own late model Winnebago, bought in Ohio and driven back here for a total rebuild; for his own family trips. He swapped out the old 4 cylinder for a complete 6 cylinder drivetrain overhaul. "She handles hills real nice now. We can take it on the Cabot Trail, and she just purrs on those hills."
But on this day the shop was nearly empty, save for another personal project of his. Sitting off to the side on home made welded up pivoting stands (so he can work on all sides without much bother) were two airplane wings. He loves his Stinson. "It's 68 years old this year!" He gave me a full tour of the job. I inspected the fabric and coatings (airplane "dope") and had the procedures all explained to me. He said he'd saved about $10k doing the re-skin job himself. He also showed me the old skin, and where the butyl dope coat cracked from the prop wash over the years. "I laid it on too thick, but it looked real nice for about 12 years." I noticed a patch on a section of old skin and asked how you went about repairing these things in the case of minor accidents. (My mind wandered a little here, as I was thinking of skin on frame canoes and kayaks, and even cedar canvas canoes as I lightly drummed on the taut wing fabric with my fingers.) He moaned at the question of repairs, and seeing that patch he shook his head.
"I was tied up to the dock last summer, up at our cottage. Nice and secure. Along comes my...brrrother-in-law (he pronounced this with heavy regret) in his darned canoe. He ties up next to me, and wants to unload his darn canoe onto the dock. As he's tossing his junk outta the darn canoe he picks up a paddle, and loses his balance. My wing is hanging over him and the dock, see." (I think I see what's coming.) And then comes the pantomime. I tried not to laugh when Joe acted out the whole unbalanced standing in canoe shimmy dance, followed by the paddle stab to an overhead airplane wing "RRRIIP!". I assumed he was going for the dramatic and not the comedic, but it was hard to tell, so I frowned and moaned along with him. He sighed and said it would be all good as new by the time the lakes opened up. But I just had to ask "So, does your brother-in-law still have his canoe?" Joe just dead-panned me and changed the subject "So Brad, let's say Friday morning, 8 o'clock?"
But on this day the shop was nearly empty, save for another personal project of his. Sitting off to the side on home made welded up pivoting stands (so he can work on all sides without much bother) were two airplane wings. He loves his Stinson. "It's 68 years old this year!" He gave me a full tour of the job. I inspected the fabric and coatings (airplane "dope") and had the procedures all explained to me. He said he'd saved about $10k doing the re-skin job himself. He also showed me the old skin, and where the butyl dope coat cracked from the prop wash over the years. "I laid it on too thick, but it looked real nice for about 12 years." I noticed a patch on a section of old skin and asked how you went about repairing these things in the case of minor accidents. (My mind wandered a little here, as I was thinking of skin on frame canoes and kayaks, and even cedar canvas canoes as I lightly drummed on the taut wing fabric with my fingers.) He moaned at the question of repairs, and seeing that patch he shook his head.
"I was tied up to the dock last summer, up at our cottage. Nice and secure. Along comes my...brrrother-in-law (he pronounced this with heavy regret) in his darned canoe. He ties up next to me, and wants to unload his darn canoe onto the dock. As he's tossing his junk outta the darn canoe he picks up a paddle, and loses his balance. My wing is hanging over him and the dock, see." (I think I see what's coming.) And then comes the pantomime. I tried not to laugh when Joe acted out the whole unbalanced standing in canoe shimmy dance, followed by the paddle stab to an overhead airplane wing "RRRIIP!". I assumed he was going for the dramatic and not the comedic, but it was hard to tell, so I frowned and moaned along with him. He sighed and said it would be all good as new by the time the lakes opened up. But I just had to ask "So, does your brother-in-law still have his canoe?" Joe just dead-panned me and changed the subject "So Brad, let's say Friday morning, 8 o'clock?"
Last edited:
