Re: Massive Rust

Posted by RedMF40 on June 10, 2018 at 18:38:02 from (23.30.29.193):

In Reply to: Massive Rust posted by RedMF40 on June 08, 2018 at 10:58:28:

I posted this last week, so it’s ancient history now. In the interest of not letting the OP get any more rusty, I’ll add these to the comments. BTW I am not always online during the weekend, so I usually can’t get to the computer before Sunday evening. This is going to be lengthy, so now would be a good time to grab a beer or scroll to a poster who is not so wordy.

So we’re all addicted to rust, on that we can agree. Some thoughts come to mind when I see something like this, and this is what they look like:

First of all, “What the…..?” This dinosaur is long past the time when it should have been smashed into little Toyotas. It’s like a guest at the party who refuses to leave—instead staying on another 50 years or more. And the scrap dealers have eyed it like vultures, mentally converting the tracks, the boom, even the steel cables into one-dollar bills. Is it a $2000 machine? Three thousand? Just how to move it? So it sits. How much longer, who knows?

But here’s where it gets a little interesting. For the most part we lead lives that fit loosely into the category we call “conventional.” Jobs, mortgages, staying current on our obligations, that kind of thing.

So, we go about our lives, doing the things people do. And suddenly something like this pops up, is a hard-to-ignore distraction on the landscape. And if flies squarely in the face of reason. There’s just no explanation for it, and that’s when the wheels in our heads start to turn:

“What if…?”

“Could it…?”

“Do you think…?”

Yes, I am guilty of all these, imagining fantastic scenarious where I’m working on the beast and have not a clue where to begin. Starely dumbly at it, a 12-lb hammer in my hand, I think—“Maybe those big sticks—-what if I took this hammer and just gave a light tap. What harm in that? Just to get a little movement—anything. How many cans of WD-40? How much PB Blaster? Could I choose just one stick, follow the linkage back to where it controls some thingamajig—or would I get lost along the way. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that. I believe it’s the “getting lost” part that holds a lot of appeal for many of us. That road that leads who-knows-where? None of it has to do with paying bills, meeting obligations, conforming to arbitrary standards of normalcy. Obviously someone else has had these thoughts, or else the machine would be long-gone.

Back to reality for a moment. A local man who knows these machines explained that it is a constant job just to keep the different mechanical linkages adjusted. As most of us know, when one gets out-of-whack, it starts a chain-reaction that does not end well. So I believe back in the day that the operator may very well have been responsible for doing these adjustments as part of the job. I am not sure about that, but I’ll ask this man—who runs these cable machines at the local antique machinery association. He knows a lot about them. He also explained that operating the cable “brakes” was an important part of being an effective operator. It’s not possible to let the boom or shovel “freewheel,” as it will let out too much cable and you’ll end up with a big mess and probably an accident as well. I pictured this in my mind: Me sitting in the operator’s seat, the toothed bucked resting at a random angle on the ground, with about a hundred yards of cable splayed out in all directions—each one stating clearly:

“Moron at the controls.”

So it’s not an intuitive thing, the operation of this thing. For the most part, anyone who knows what a modern excavator is supposed to do can hop in the seat and learn how to work the joystick pretty quickly. Might take awhile to get proficient, but at least they can move some dirt. Not so with this big hoe with its massive boom and cables and sticks and pedals and brakes. In short, a recipe for disaster.

When I first caught a glimpse of this machine I was returning from a small tractor show in the next county—about a half-hour from me. What is funny is that I passed it on the way there, and somehow missed it. It was only about 40-50 feet off the road, and I shook my head, asking, “How in the world did I miss THAT?” The other thing that is a little odd is that I just assumed it was an old “shovel,” the kind with a hinged bucket that released the payload out the bottom. When I got home and looked at the photos I realized it was instead an early track-hoe, and was wondering again how I missed that particular detail. In all fairness, I tend to get excited when I discover something like this, and my brain works hard to overcome the emotion of the moment and introduce some more rational thoughts.

Try as I might, I could not find any markings whatsoever on the machine. I didn’t exactly have permission to be there, and no one was around to ask, so I didn’t linger more than necessary to take a few photos. The whole property appears to be for sale, based on a large real estate sign posted, so if anyone can’t live without this, it can probably be had for a good price. You provide transport.

I don’t have the abilities or space to revive this thing, to breathe new life into its clanking, whirling, insides, but I thought a neat modern art sculpture would be to preserve the operator’s station with sticks and pedals and seat and so on, and somehow have it linked to the complete boom and bucket. Not sure how that would look or how an artist with a good cutting torch could carry out such a project, but I’m sure I’ve seen worse in the big museums or sculpture gardens.

For the technical details, I don’t have much to offer. Someone asked about original power: It appears to have always had a gas engine, since it looks like it all works together in a coherent way and I see spark plugs sticking out the top of the motor. Seems on these old relics the plug wires are always gone. Wonder why that would be? Critters? Someone afraid the machine might accidentally get started and drive off? The age of this thing is probably not as old as some think. It may be from the 1950s even.



I enjoyed everyone’s comments, didn’t realize the rusty old hulk would generate so much interest. Since this is turning into the first chapter of a book, I’ll take a minute to reply—SweetFeet, you are a fan of rust as well, hope the random pics showed up ok on your bigger screen.

Ultradog, great story about your old machine. Glad it found a new home.

If you started a beer, hope there’s still some left. I’ll follow up with this machine since it’s not far from where I live, and my expert may be interested in it as well. It’s possible the current owner has had a lot of history with it. If there’s anything to know, I’ll find out.

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