Like Dancing With a Fat Lady With a Square Head

Whee. What fun I just had. I decided to move the compressor over near the machine-tool wiring, and I put the vertical band saw where the compressor used to be.

The compressor is the size of a refrigerator, and it weighs 500 pounds. Most of the weight is on top, so if it starts to fall, anyone around it stands a good chance of being turned into a stain.

I could not remember how I got it where it was, but there were several pieces of 1/2″ electrical conduit under it, so I could tell I must have tried to roll it on them, sort of like the old photos of slaves moving blocks for the pyramids.

Every time I move a big machine, I forget how stable they are. I lose all sense of what it takes to turn them over. This makes for a very nerve-wracking beginning. Today I had to lean the machine back to pull the isolation pads out from under it, and I kept thinking it would keep going and end up horizontal.

Those pads are crap, incidentally. Save yourself some money. Cut pieces out of an old tire. The pads deteriorate for no apparent reason. The ones I have are falling apart.

I tried moving the machine without the pipes, because I was afraid I’d push it over and die in an embarrassing way. I got it to move about a foot before giving up. It didn’t seem possible that the pipes would help; the machine’s feet are small, so you would expect it to come off of the pipes before going very far. Surprisingly, you can shove it about five inches at a time, which is more than enough to get the job done, and you can even turn it as long as one foot is on a pipe.

I was sweating pretty badly, even though the AC was on. Later I realized it had reset itself to 77 degrees instead of the usual 70. Swell.

I put the compressor behind my work stool, by my bench. Now when the 5-HP Baldor explodes into action like a MOAB, it will be two feet from my head. That will be nice.

I could just make a long cord for it and experiment with new places. I may do that. I already have a nice piece of 50-amp RV cord.

It’s funny; people talk about the necessity of using huge wires on machine tools, but the motor on my milling machine has what appear to be 12-gauge wires on it, and the wires on my 5 HP compressor motor are thin, too. I can see that it’s important to go overboard in the walls of a house, especially when wires are packed into small spaces that retain heat, but I’m not afraid of a nice extension cord, especially when the manufacturer says 50 amps are no problem.

The compressor is going to have a 3-prong plug and its own 220 receptacle. I have to get that taken care of. Everything must be up to code. This is Karl Goebbels, after all. I mean Coral Gables. I don’t want to get shipped off to a gulag.

I’m hoping the 2-HP air conditioner and the 5-HP compressor won’t mind sharing 40 amps. If they do, I’ll have to have the wiring upgraded, but that won’t be a big deal, since the existing circuit has blazed a trail any electrician can follow.

Tomorrow, God willing, the air dryer arrives. I’ll mount the hose reel on the wall above the compressor, and I’ll finally have compressed air I can use. I may go nuts and buy a cheap blasting cabinet.

My mobile bases are on the way from Grizzly, so I’ll be able to move stuff around and get the ultimate ergonomic and aesthetic solution. I can’t budge my drill press. It’s supposed to weigh around 200 pounds, but I added a sliding table and a big drill press vise, and I’m storing an 8″ rotary table and an 8″ chuck on the base.

Guess I could try the pipes. I’ll have to move it eventually, because it’s not going to jump on a mobile base when I whistle. My hoist is nearly directly over it (because I used it to put the drill press in the garage), so I guess I can lift it.

I’m so glad I didn’t go with my original plan, which was to run new conduit over the roof trusses, 12 feet in the air.

I hope I don’t have to move the compressor again, but very little is certain in this life.

The Garage of Blues is getting so cool, I’m afraid one day I’ll show up, and they won’t let me in.

For the longest time, I’ve been dreaming of a big garage-type room where I can relax and conceivably even entertain. God is giving me a foretaste of it. See Psalm 37, verse 4. He really does the things he says he’ll do.

I think I’ll go look at the mess I just made, without making any effort to clean it up.