When I got my first khuk, I held it in wonder. Even before I tested it I knew. I not only knew this was for me but knew instinctively I needed a larger blade for better leverage and strike force. I guess it's like knowing which size of baseball bat to use. I felt at home with the khukuri. For that matter deadly weapons don't bother me. I was old when I got into firearms, 10 years past full grown and voting age. I accepted and understood the intrinsic responsibility immediately. It was as if I knew how already. One must care for the weapons and honor the potential. Weapons are instructing. They teach responsibility and ethics. At least in myself, perhaps in a sociopath's hands there is nothing reciprocal inside him to respect the blade or gun, it is only an extension of his sick need, his will.
(Last night because his room had been painted my 8 year old slept next to my bed on a mattress. Lying some 12 inches from his head and hands and next to me were a sheathed Cherokee Rose and a Colt Delta Elite with a full mag but unchambered. As I told him, I never had a moment of doubt regarding this. I'd taught him young and he's a trusted soul. I would not allow the middle son this honor, though)
Well, that's some pretty heady stuff there munk, was that all you wanted to tell us this morning?
Well, actually, no. It's about these machines, you see....I'm afraid of them.
Car engines have always kept me nervous. I remember once we took off in the family's Volkswagon Van. One of our cats must have crawled into the engine compartment because we heard an awful caterwauling. Mom stopped the bus and looked but no cat. Soon as we started up again though, there she was, screaming like a banshee. Never did find that cat. Maybe she ran off at the stop sign, Mom said, but I knew chances were the engine had eaten her alive.
If a machine is big and makes noise and things move I'm cautious. I don't trust them. I remember too Mom's washing machine would walk across the laundry room sometimes with an awful racket. Machines were a mystery. It was only when I was 35 I finally understood how the internal combustion engine ran.
I waited for a week for my Delta 180 1" by 42" belt sander to arrive. It was awesome, let me tell you. I gasped aloud while removing each segment from the box, with the same wonder as an Idaho Ranch hand first time he saw 'one of dem dare Fridgediers" in a County without electricity.
Yesterday I assembled it. It was like a factory in miniature to me. Keith even pulled one of his plastic trucks alongside and asked to buy some ice cream. He knew. I only had one left over part when I was done. A red metal arrow pointer. Well, I'll figure that out later.
God, she was beautiful. What a work of art.
"You know what I'd do if I were rich," I told my wife. "I mean really rich, a trillionare?"
"What?"
"I'd buy every standing machine I could. I'd have them in a room, in lines, all kinds. Just to have them. Maybe every once in awhile I'd walk by, pick one out, drill a hole or press something down."
"You're nuts."
"No, machines are great."
When the Delta was all together I asked Trav if we should turn it on.
"Yes," he and his little brother cried.
There were a whole bunch of instructions after the initial assembling about how to adjust, get it balanced, all that kind of rigermaroll. I ignored that. I'll do it later, when I have time to sit down and comprehend what it says.
For now, it was time just to turn the thing on.
Whish. The belt sliced through air. Wow. After 20 seconds, I turned it off. Don't want to do too much right away. Have to work up to it. I turned it on a couple more times, the last for my oldest son when he came home from school.
Have I used it? Well, I'll get to that. I will. I promise, it's just that this machine is brand new, and has power. A guy could get hurt with that machine. It would chew up a finger mightily. I have to ease up to it, get to know her, and she me.
One day I'll write a review and tell you how it was. The machine's not even in the work station yet. I have to turn it on a couple more times. Then I'll work it. I will. Soon as I get over the Machine Fear.
All you people who grab these machines and make 'em run right off the bat; it's uncanny. I never did understand how men could do that. I guessed I wasn't a man the same way they were. I'm on the outside looking in, wondering how in hell real people could take machines as if they were harmless servants, waiting for abuse, waiting for their orders.
You can guess how long it took me to actually use my chainsaw to cut wood.
Now with a khuk, it only took me a couple minutes, long enough to step outside.
munk
(Last night because his room had been painted my 8 year old slept next to my bed on a mattress. Lying some 12 inches from his head and hands and next to me were a sheathed Cherokee Rose and a Colt Delta Elite with a full mag but unchambered. As I told him, I never had a moment of doubt regarding this. I'd taught him young and he's a trusted soul. I would not allow the middle son this honor, though)
Well, that's some pretty heady stuff there munk, was that all you wanted to tell us this morning?
Well, actually, no. It's about these machines, you see....I'm afraid of them.
Car engines have always kept me nervous. I remember once we took off in the family's Volkswagon Van. One of our cats must have crawled into the engine compartment because we heard an awful caterwauling. Mom stopped the bus and looked but no cat. Soon as we started up again though, there she was, screaming like a banshee. Never did find that cat. Maybe she ran off at the stop sign, Mom said, but I knew chances were the engine had eaten her alive.
If a machine is big and makes noise and things move I'm cautious. I don't trust them. I remember too Mom's washing machine would walk across the laundry room sometimes with an awful racket. Machines were a mystery. It was only when I was 35 I finally understood how the internal combustion engine ran.
I waited for a week for my Delta 180 1" by 42" belt sander to arrive. It was awesome, let me tell you. I gasped aloud while removing each segment from the box, with the same wonder as an Idaho Ranch hand first time he saw 'one of dem dare Fridgediers" in a County without electricity.
Yesterday I assembled it. It was like a factory in miniature to me. Keith even pulled one of his plastic trucks alongside and asked to buy some ice cream. He knew. I only had one left over part when I was done. A red metal arrow pointer. Well, I'll figure that out later.
God, she was beautiful. What a work of art.
"You know what I'd do if I were rich," I told my wife. "I mean really rich, a trillionare?"
"What?"
"I'd buy every standing machine I could. I'd have them in a room, in lines, all kinds. Just to have them. Maybe every once in awhile I'd walk by, pick one out, drill a hole or press something down."
"You're nuts."
"No, machines are great."
When the Delta was all together I asked Trav if we should turn it on.
"Yes," he and his little brother cried.
There were a whole bunch of instructions after the initial assembling about how to adjust, get it balanced, all that kind of rigermaroll. I ignored that. I'll do it later, when I have time to sit down and comprehend what it says.
For now, it was time just to turn the thing on.
Whish. The belt sliced through air. Wow. After 20 seconds, I turned it off. Don't want to do too much right away. Have to work up to it. I turned it on a couple more times, the last for my oldest son when he came home from school.
Have I used it? Well, I'll get to that. I will. I promise, it's just that this machine is brand new, and has power. A guy could get hurt with that machine. It would chew up a finger mightily. I have to ease up to it, get to know her, and she me.
One day I'll write a review and tell you how it was. The machine's not even in the work station yet. I have to turn it on a couple more times. Then I'll work it. I will. Soon as I get over the Machine Fear.
All you people who grab these machines and make 'em run right off the bat; it's uncanny. I never did understand how men could do that. I guessed I wasn't a man the same way they were. I'm on the outside looking in, wondering how in hell real people could take machines as if they were harmless servants, waiting for abuse, waiting for their orders.
You can guess how long it took me to actually use my chainsaw to cut wood.
Now with a khuk, it only took me a couple minutes, long enough to step outside.
munk