Wives' Part in A Man's Hobby

When the engine was finally home, both husband and wife hurried through supper. Giving instructions to the kids to clean up the table and do the dishes before beginning their homework, they both were off to the shop to work on the new 'find.' Grease, dirt, and grime, along with a skinned knuckle once in a while, was nothing new to this wife. Even though she washed, cleaned and polished the best she could, her nails never looked too good when there was an engine rebuilding going on, and especially when trying to hurry up for completion before time for a local show coming up.

With the '99 show season quickly coming to an end, I hadn't been able to attend a single show. I don't tolerate the heat too well anymore, and it had been in the high 90's most of the summer here in Roanoke. We did, however, decide to attend the Boone, North Carolina, show. The temperature in Boone is usually ten degrees cooler than here in Roanoke, as Boone is in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. Over the years we have attended the Boone show several times. It's not a large show, but due to its location, both close to the Smokies and to the town of Boone, makes it a nice and enjoyable show to visit.

When I say 'we,' I usually mean my wife and I. This time, though, our youngest daughter, Kay Meredith, who lives in Midlothian, Virginia, and teaches high school English at Powhattan, Virginia, went along and furnished the transportation in her new Jeep wagon. My wife, bless her heart, has tolerated me for over 60 years, along with my many wild ideas. And now the last few years with my 'engine bug,' she continues to tolerate me but perhaps with lots less enthusiasm than some wives. I know it had to be 'boring,' as the kids would say, sitting in a vehicle, often in the hot sun, trying to pass the time, while I am out there visiting, watching the engines run, and thoroughly enjoying myself. We have attended lots of shows cruising several states while I was searching for 'My Little Engine' (see story in August 1998 GEM). I am still getting mail referring to that story. In fact, I received a letter just recently inquiring if I had found the fodder cutter yet. The writer also enclosed a picture of his pride and joy. The answer to the fodder cutter question is both 'yes' and 'no.'

Our son lives in Detroit, Michigan, and he found a cutter there, as a result of the story. It operates on the same principle as the one that burned in the barn fire. The cutter knives, however, on the one he found are attached to a circular drum approximately eight inches in diameter. Yes, I have it. On the other hand, the one that burned had a flywheel with knives attached to the wheel exactly in the same fashion as an ensilage cutter. No, I haven't found one yet like the one that burned. And, although time is getting shorter every day, as I am in my eighty-fifth year, I haven't given up in finding my cutter 'prize.'