Isn’t She Lovely

You thought this day would never come, but here it is:

How about that? And it WORKS. I can rest my fat on the side rails and hop up and down, and if the base is flexing, I can’t detect it. It should hold the saw just fine, even with the less-than-beautiful welds.

The design is not optimal; I’m limited by my tools and the amount of work I’m willing to do, plus what I’m willing to pay for steel and parts. But it’s much stronger than it needs to be.

I got much better performance out of the welder today. I tightened up the ground; this may have made the difference. I had no problems seeing the puddle or keeping the contact tip from welding to the wire.

In case you’re wondering who gave the best answer about removing rust and scale prior to welding, I think it was Ed Bonderenka. I believe he was the person who suggested a wire wheel for the grinder. I got a wheel and tried it, and it blows through rust and crap a paint removing wheel barely polishes. Wonderful.

I learned something new today: Hitachi drill bits are crap. At least they seem to be. I bought a big box of them, and I was trying to drill through the 3/16″ steel on the tabs that hold the wheels to the mobile base. The smaller bits didn’t seem to do anything, and the 1/4″ bit was really slow. I dug out my old Craftsman bits, and they went right through the steel. Go figure. It’s clearly time to get a Drill Doctor. I wasted maybe 20 minutes with that stupid Hitachi bit before I realized something was wrong.

I plan to grind off the scarier bits of weld, and then I’m going to go over the base with a brush, and then I’m going to hit it with a can of truck bed paint. I have some in the garage, and it’s much better than ordinary spray paint for this purpose. Once that’s done, I’ll shove the saw over to my hoist and see if it pulls the roof down while I try to put it on the base.

Man, this was great. I learned how to cope welded corners. I used my plasma cutter. I used the welder and the dry cut saw. I bought a soapstone holder, a wire wheel, and a scribe. I had tremendous fun. And now I can roll my bandsaw around the garage, so I can get it within reach of the new 220 socket I made.

I have a new table pin, three blades, and an Incra miter gauge for the saw, and I am DYING to do something with it.

Maybe some day I’ll make a better base for the saw. Now that I fixed the welder’s problems, I know I can make a much prettier base. But I think I’ll wait for a drill press or a mill. I did not enjoy making those stupid holes.

Another thing: I got a little Baldor grinder a couple of years ago. I thought it would be more than enough for my needs. WRONG. Because the radius is small, it’s hard to get stuff up against the wheel. I’m wondering what’s the best size. Eight inches? Surely not ten. That would weigh 200 pounds. I believe the one I have now is 6″. It’s wonderful, but just not big enough. It’s dandy for sharpening certain tools, and I used it to pretty up some of the base parts, but it’s limited.

I suppose the real answer is a belt grinder. I have to get to work on that eventually. The price of a big Baldor would more than cover the parts cost for a belt grinder, and a belt grinder does more. Man, that would be sweet.

Time to celebrate. I’m breaking out the fettuccine.

By the way, if you read about me helping Mike find Li’l Paul’s Smokehouse in Lebanon, Tennessee, the other night, you have been waiting for these photos.

Heat & Brute Force

I hit Home Depot for the purpose of buying casters. While I was there, I picked up a bar of 2″ by 3/8″ steel and some MAPP gas.

I want to use 2″ swiveling casters with brakes on one end of my saw base. But to do that, I need 3 3/8″ of distance between the far end of the caster base and the side of the saw base. That means something has to hang way out over the floor, unsupported. If you use angle iron, the part the caster screws into will be fine, but the part that extends down from it will prevent the caster from turning. Clearly, the best option is a piece of flat stock with a right angle in it. You put the horizontal part at the top, weld the vertical part to the saw base, and attach the caster to the underside of the horizontal part. The problem is the right angle. How do you create that?

My hope is that with MAPP gas and my vise, I should be able to make a reasonably good right angle. If the lengths of the angle’s legs are a little off, I can fix it with the grinder, the dry cut saw, or the plasma cutter. I just have to make them overly long to begin with.

I have never used heat to bend steel before. I saw Indian Larry do it on The Discovery Channel, however, so I feel that I have sufficient training. His crew was making twisted forks for a bike, or maybe it was a twisted sissy bar. They put a square bare in a vise, heated it with a torch, and turned it with breaker bars. The little job I’m doing should be considerably easier. I don’t even need sharp right angles; they can be pretty round.

Another Chance to Help

Reader Wormathan says:

If it not to much of a bother would pass along one more prayer to your circle of readers? My sister has just been diagnosed with breast cancer at the young age of 41. She and her family are strong believers and her attitude is one of peace, but of course she needs strength to battle this.

It’s no bother at all. Thanks for asking. Usually it’s best not to do this on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, because fewer people see it. If you mention it on Monday, I’ll put it up again.

Common Sense Militates in Two Different Directions

Here’s an interesting Craigslist ad: CLICK. It’s a Bridgeport mill with CNC stuff on it. The CNC bits need repair, however.

Last night I was thinking about tools. I was thinking about how I had finally learned my lesson: NEVER BUY SMALL. I’ll tell you why this was on my mind. I bought what I thought was a gargantuan compressor, but it turns out to be just about the minimal size for sandblasting. For a few hundred more dollars, I could have had a 7.5 HP model which would have been better. And it would run on the same size circuit and take up the same amount of room.

I’ve also started to come up against the upper limits of my MIG welder. I bought 1/8″ and 3/16″ steel for my saw base, and 3/16″ is the biggest I can do without going to flux-core wire.

People assured me I was overbuying. Well…WRONG. I barely went big enough.

Here’s the funny thing. Right after I thought about the lesson I had learned, I started thinking about how I should go look at the Millrite milling machine I had located. Because a Bridgeport is just too big.

I immediately sensed the contrast between the two trains of thought. 1. I have been stung by buying small tools. 2. I should buy a Millrite because it’s small. I felt like I was getting a message.

But I’m still not sure what to do. I have no idea what I can do on a Bridgeport that I can’t do on a Millrite. And I wonder how much more expensive (if at all) Bridgeport tooling is.

Chemo Drug Causes Liver Problems

Because I was offline all day, I had no idea what was going on with Mish Weiss. There is a very ominous post on her blog. The new chemotherapy drug, which just about everybody encouraged her to take, is causing liver problems.

Here is my bad, third-hand, lay explanation. The drug causes cancerous material to be flushed out of the body, and it can collect in the liver, where it forms obstructions and generates a great deal of pain. Evidently, this can be life-threatening. There is concern that Mish may not survive the next few days. You might as well read it yourself.

I don’t know what to do. Pray, obviously. Maybe fast.

By the way, reader R. sent me a thank-you email. I asked people to pray for her daughter-in-law, who was having a painful recovery from aneurysm surgery, and whose marriage was under stress. R. says:

Thanks for the prayers. They worked. At noon she looked like she had been run over by a Mack truck, eyes so swollen she could barely open them. And nauseated very badly from the pain meds. At five she could open her eyes and was sitting in a chair but was a pretty big shock to the girls when we took them in to see her. She was also still very nauseated, but they changed to a pain patch and my son called about 7 and said she was so much better, had got up and walked twice, the Foley was out, plumbing was working, and when she talked to the girls to say good night, they thought she sounded normal.

She also requests continued prayer.

I am Back

My Internet provider was messed up all day. I wasn’t able to buy a single tool!

Well, that’s not totally true. I managed to get to Home Depot and pick up a square, a flap wheel, and a wire wheel.

Saw Base Developing

My adventures in welding continue.

I cut more parts for the saw base, and I managed to get a fair amount of the crud off of them, and I got out the bench grinder and made everything as nice as I could. Then I did some practice welds, resulting in a beautiful sculpture. And I lined up the base parts, fired up the welder, and welded.

Without gas.

I guess when you turn off the gas, enough remains in the system to let you do a few welds. I checked the regulator gauge before I started, and I saw pressure. But during the first weld that counted, the gas ran out, and I got some very interesting results.

I turned on the gas, started up again, ruined a contact tip, and so on. Eventually I realized I should rely on the pictures on the little chart on the welder door, instead of the numbers, which are apparently wrong. And I managed to weld three corners of the base fairly well. The one I screwed up will work. I did extra welding on it, and I did some grinding. Hey, it just has to stay together. It’s not going to have all that much force on the part I screwed up.

I found out I weld better with +2.5 reading glasses under the helmet, because I’m so close to the work. But my biggest problem is smoke. I don’t understand why clean metal would smoke, but it’s happening, and I can’t see the welds very well. I have to stop and start. I hope I’m using the right wire. Surely it’s not flux burning.

I can’t say I’m totally pleased, but the base will work. Tomorrow I can get casters, and then I’ll be able to take measurements and weld on the tabs the casters attach to.

Maybe I’ll make another base, just for the practice. I need it. I swear, I’m going to start driving around looking for metal in trash piles.

I can’t believe there are people who seriously suggest using hydrochloric acid for rust removal. What a farce. I suppose I could get naval jelly next time. Or Ospho. Cleaning the metal is the worst part of this job. A reader suggests electrolysis.

I have to get this finished. I watched Mark Duginske’s bandsaw book, and I’m dying to use my bandsaw, but I can’t use it without the base. The cord won’t reach the new 220 outlet.

Geez, After I do the welding, I have to get this thing cleaned up and paint it. It never ends. Now I have something to do with my surplus grill paint.

I think I want to make a mouse table. I compute from a recliner, with a little table on my right for the mouse. The table I use is okay, but I could make a better one, and it’s a good small project. After a box.

Do I have any hope of drilling 3/8″ holes in mild steel with a hand drill? I never used to worry about things like this. I just picked up the tools and tried. I have to have holes for the casters.

I will succeed eventually. You just watch.

Wing It

If you’re a guy, and you hate to cook, but you bought my book anyway just because you love me, let me reward you. Here is the lunch I just ate. It takes no skill at all, and boy was it good.

Buy a package of six or eight chicken wings. Salt them and sprinkle them with garlic powder. Preheat your oven to 425. Put the wings on a broiler pan and bake them for one hour. This is the recipe from the Frank’s Red Hot label. Obviously, it’s for non-breaded wings.

Wash a medium-sized baking potato and rub it with salt. Poke a few holes in the skin. Nuke it for 5 minutes. Turn it over. Nuke it for 5 more.

When the chicken is done, put it in a bowl with a tablespoon of bacon grease. If you have butter, add a tablespoon of that. Soak the chicken thoroughly in your favorite mild hot sauce (Texas Pete or Frank’s, maybe) and toss it in the grease so it gets coated with everything. If there is grease in the bottom of the broiler pan, add that.

Jam the potato full of sour cream. Pour the stuff in the bottom of the chicken bowl on top of it.

I also heated up a can of greens.

This was totally delicious. If deep-fried wings are better than baked, the difference is beyond my powers of detection.

I have been fooling with welding. Someone astutely suggested that my needle scaler might be a good tool for removing…scale. So I tried it. It works, but it dings the metal up a little. I finished up with a wire brush, and things look okay. I also tried hydrochloric acid. You won’t believe me, but when I took the metal out, it looked like the areas with scale had developed rust, and the rusty areas were rust-free but covered with scale. Seriously.

Sandpaper does absolutely nothing. A wire brush works okay, but it’s slow.

I think sand-blasting is the best answer. I should spring for a blaster and a refrigerated air dryer. I’m too cheap to get a cabinet. I’ll just blow sand into the yard.

Here’s something I can’t figure out. Where does the liquid go when you use an air dryer? Does it drain out of the machine somewhere? Hmm…web sources say it does. I guess that must be one reason these things cost so much. It must be a pain, building something that will drain water out of chilled, pressurized air, without releasing the air.

I should go ahead and drive to Harbor Freight. Water was squirting out of the needle scaler.

Ribs on Sale Again

On my trip to Home Depot, I dropped by Winn-Dixie. I had to. One of this week’s specials: rib roast, $4.99 per pound.

Come on. How is that fair? Just roast it and wave it under my nose, why don’t you?

Obviously, I bought a roast.

I Set Them Up; You Knock Them Down

Here is some serious stuff before I begin my day of frivolous activities.

Reader R. says her daughter-in-law has had an operation for a brain aneurysm. She is now having a lot of pain. R. asks that you pray for relief from pain and a swift recovery, and that God will help her daughter-in-law with her marriage, which is under great stress.

At last check, Leah Friedman had come out of her post-operative coma, but she was having trouble recognizing people, due to the stroke she suffered during the aortic valve replacement.

Mish Weiss sucked it up and decided to try Mylotarg. As you surely know, she is suffering from leukemia, and she did not respond well to a bone marrow graft. Mylotarg is a chemotherapy drug. It can cause liver problems, including pain.

I hate to say this, because I don’t believe in making claims on God’s behalf, but as long as you understand that I’m not predicting anything, I want to say that when I included Mish and Leah in my prayers last night, I felt a tremendous sensation of power and faith. It was very unusual.

That’s the sick list. Pray if you are willing.

There are no Ribs

I may have found the answer to my rust removal problem: hydrochloric acid. The same stuff I use for taking zinc off steel before welding. It’s cheap, it’s easy to find, and supposedly, it works. So I’ll be giving that a try later.

I want to make one thing clear. I am not angry at the people who call me a tool addict. No, I’m just sorry for you. Because it’s so sad, that you think I have a problem. You’re the ones who have problems. You really should get help. And I’m saying that without anger, because I’m too good a person to let rancor get the best of me. And I’m fine, really. And…hey, I think I need a backhoe. I better check Ebay.

Call me “Nathan Hypertherm.” Apologies for subjecting you to Kennedy demagoguery.

Mike called last night. Thank God I was home. He was on the road in Lebanon, Tennessee, and he needed barbecue, and it was getting late. I offered to get on the web and help. Google offered about five restaurants in his area. I brought up a map and steered him to Li’l Joe’s Smokehouse.

It was just like The Matrix. “Operator, I need ribs. FAST.” “I got you, man. Take the next right and proceed three blocks.” Fortunately Joe Pantoliano was not there to pull the plug out of Mike’s head. Mike got to the restaurant right after they had closed due to slow business, and he persuaded them to sell him a pile of takeout. He got ribs and a barbecue baked potato. This is a potato stuffed with butter, sour cream, and pulled pork. He promised to email me a photo, but maybe Agent Smith intercepted it. Or even stole the potato.

AGENT SMITH: I’d like to share a revelation that I’ve had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your potato and I realized it’s not actually a side dish.

MIKE: How about I give you the finger, and you give me my potato?

Actually Mike is more like Morpheus. “Mikeus.”

MIKEUS: You are a slave, Stevo. Like everyone else you were born into bondage. Into a prison that you cannot taste or see or touch. A prison for your stomach.

STEVO: I’ll take the blue pill. And this cheesecake.

MIKEUS: I’m trying to free your belly, Stevo. But I can only show you the door. You’re the one that has to walk through it. If you still fit.

STEVO: You can’t scare me with this Gestapo crap. I know my rights. I want my phone call. Hello, Pizza World?

Something like that.

It’s so depressing. Mike eats pretty much whatever he wants, and I had oatmeal for breakfast again.

Off to Home Depot.

Plus a Revelation

I learned a few interesting things today.

1. It’s best not to grab a 4 1/2″ cutting wheel while it’s moving.

2. Plasma cutters are lots of fun.

Yes, I have a plasma cutter. I didn’t mention it when I bought it, because at the time, I was tired of hearing about how I needed an intervention. Okay, shut up. It’s not like I’m hiding new tools because I’m an addict and I’m in total denial. It’s not. It ISN’T. Oh, like you never bought a new tool. You’re just as bad as I am. You’re the addicts, not me.

Actually, that is completely true with regard to a whole bunch of you.

I guess people are shocked to learn that I don’t tell every single detail of my life here. Or maybe they’re just relieved.

Anyway, I bought this thing, and I never used it because I was flipping out over the clean/dry air problem. I got one of those filters that holds an element that looks like a roll of European toilet paper, but I never got an air dryer because every time I tried to figure out what kind I should get, I went crazy from confusion.

Today I slapped the toilet paper thing on and fired the cutter up. I figured surely it wouldn’t get soaked from the few cuts I planned to make. I also figured I could open it up and let it dry out between uses. Why not? If you use the machine once every two months, surely you can get away with that.

That thing is a blast. And easy to use. The biggest challenge is to move the gun fast enough to keep up with the cutting. You have to move fast to keep from making gouges in the metal, but you have to go slow enough to retain control. It’s like a light saber for metalworkers.

I wore shorts and tennis shoes while I used it, but I also wore my welding helmet. The manual was very confusing. I’m positive the shorts were a bad idea, but while the cutter came with weird little glasses, the manual seemed to recommend a welding helmet. I don’t think it darkened. The manual also recommended hearing protection. Which is weird, because this thing just hisses a little, and that’s from the air coming out of the gun.

I think the water had an effect toward the end, after a bunch of cuts. The cuts got sloppy. Maybe I was doing something wrong. Whatever. It was still great. As much as I love the dry-cut saw, there are some things that are hard to do with it, because of the geometry. You can cut a 4″ square steel bar in half with it, no problem. But put angle iron in it in the wrong position, and it can flip the workpiece out of the vise and do awful things. Also, it makes tons of pointy swarf. I found a solution to that. I blow it out into the driveway and wet it with the hose. By the next day, it has rusted to the point where it’s not sharp enough to be a problem. Little things rust really fast. I don’t know where it goes after that. Maybe the swarf fairies come pick it up.

What a time-saver the plasma cutter is. Zip, zip, zip, and you’re done. Setting up takes ten times as long as cutting. And the cuts are accurate to within maybe a sixteenth.

I cut the main members for the bandsaw base, and then I used a hand grinder to fine-tune the coping. I used a long piece of uncut angle iron as a gauge to see if the pieces I was cutting would fit. Then I found out something disturbing. Home Depot steel is not shaped the same as North River Drive scrap yard steel. The work I did on one piece was fine when mated up to the Home Depot steel, but it was way off on the scrap yard steel. So I decided to make it to Home Depot specs, and tomorrow, I’ll buy another piece of Home Depot metal, to finish the base. It’s easier than driving up to the river.

Now I just have to cut the remaining piece, file everything smooth, remove rust and scale, and weld. I plan to practice on some of the crap I ended up with after today’s work.

I spent about a year on this stuff, and I am aware that I could have done it a lot faster, but when you’re a hobbyist, the process is the objective.

The plasma cutter, not the welder, is the reason I have a 60-amp circuit in my garage. If you’re a tool person, I highly recommend you buy a plasma cutter, because you will have to run a huge circuit, and after that, you will have a lot more tool options.

I’m not sure why I grabbed the cutting wheel while the grinder was running. One nice thing about getting old is that your hide gets tough. I have a very interesting rut on my finger, but it didn’t bleed. When I was a kid, it was a lot easier to cut and burn me. I am not sure why that is. These days, it takes some effort. I still remember picking up a skillet I had just seasoned in a 500-degree oven. I didn’t even get a blister. Of course, I put it down pretty quickly once I realized it was hot.

I would not bet money on the mobile base welding up correctly, but I’m learning a lot and having fun. And the sparks freak out people who drive by the garage.

Miami Manners Strike Again

Today I’m going weld again. I hope. My efforts to create a rolling base for my bandsaw produced poor results, to put it mildly, so I got another piece of angle iron, and I am psyching myself up to give it another shot.

I wish I knew of a good way to remove rust and scale without a lot of effort. I don’t have a sandblaster yet. Last time, I used a drill with a paint-removing wheel, and it does a great job, but it takes an eternity. Maybe I should use sandpaper this time.

The milling machine question keeps rolling around in my head. First I wanted a drill press. Then I wanted a Millrite, because it would take up roughly the same amount of room and do more things. Then I wanted a Bridgeport, because it was only a little bigger than the Millrite, and I knew there was no possibility that I would ever need anything bigger.

I am now tempted to go look at the Millrite the local dealer is selling. The compelling reasons for buying a big used mill were economic. Little mills cost as much or more and do less, and it’s hard to find good used ones, and the new ones cost more than big used mills. And if you resell a little mill you bought new, you can forget about getting your money back. Although a lot of Craigslist and Ebay dreamers don’t seem to realize that. “TAIWANESE MILL/DRILL! USED IN PRODUCTION SHOP FOR 5 YEARS! PAID $3000 NEW! WILL TAKE $2900!”

Yeah, okay. I’ll be in touch.

It amazes me that people who sell used tools think they can recover almost all of their money. Warranties and years of added use are very valuable; a buyer who isn’t getting these things is entitled to a huge discount. If you’re not saving a buyer a minimum of a third of the cost of a new machine, you’re overcharging. Really, half is the minimum.

Anyway, yesterday I realized that the Millrite will fit better in the space I have, it will almost certainly do everything I want for at least a couple of years, and when I get tired of it, I can sell it without taking a big hit. If I can get the price down a little. So it doesn’t really make sense to try to cram a bigger machine in there. I can get one later, at little or no added expense. I assume most of the junk that goes with it will work with a bigger mill.

The biggest job I can foresee at the moment is milling the heads from my Harley. They’re pretty small. I don’t mean shaving them down to increase the compression. I mean fixing the bad factory geometry that impedes gas flow. It’s a Harley; surely I don’t have to explain that the engineering is bad.

By the way, can anyone tell me what the lever settings on an aftermarket petcock mean? I had to replace the pathetic Harley unit, and the new one (Golan) points in three directions: back, sideways, and forward. The directions don’t say which means what.

The big mill question is, how do I evaluate the machine? I have received a lot of useful tips, ranging from, “If it runs, buy it, because nothing serious ever goes wrong with milling machines,” to, “If you can’t have it tested by MIT and NASA, you are almost certain to bring home a machine that is only valuable for scrap.”

I exaggerate, but not as badly as you think. People on forums literally say you can buy a machine that is so worthless it has to be scrapped.

A lot of old machines come from teaching environments. My best guess is that they would be better buys than industrial machines. Although I do have visions of Beavis and Butt-head in shop class, playing Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots with the equipment.

I got some pointers on checking machines out, but ultimately, a leap of faith will be required.

I also need to buy some rocks. There is a house going up across the street, and the folks working on it need gentle reminders not to park here. A cracked differential would fill the bill nicely, and a couple of big rocks are the way to achieve that goal. Miami is incredible; people will stand in your face and tell you they’re entitled to park in your yard (on your popup sprinklers) because the strip by the road belongs to the government. That isn’t true, and even if it were, that’s how trash acts. It’s not acceptable. In other words, it’s perfectly acceptable in Miami, but in a civilized area, it would get you shot, and there would be no possibility of an indictment. This is why rocks and concrete yard ornaments are such huge sellers here. They’re all over the place. In other parts of the country, they are unnecessary, because people know how to behave.

I spent some time yesterday Googling gorgeous homes in the middle of the state. Cheap. Huge. Not surrounded by contentious barbarians who are constantly at each other’s throats. Oh, yes. It WILL happen.

By the way, I did not delete my blogroll. It’s hosted at Blogrolling, and evidently, they are having problems. I can’t even log in to check on it. Hopefully it will come back to life soon.

Deals to be Had?

Anyone heard of Index brand machine tools? Guy in Central Florida has a couple of mills. I tried to look them up on Practicalmachinist, but you can imagine how many posts contain the word “index.” I did see some favorable material. Supposedly, these are better than Bridgeports, but they sell for less. And the company still has parts, and the service is great. Down side: Bridgeport is like the Chevy 350; anything you need for it can be found easily.

Metalmaq in Hialeah has one. Looks like it has seen some hard times: CLICK.

Childhood Memory I Wish Had Remained Buried

I had an interesting experience today. Yesterday, I went to a viewing, and today I attended the funeral. I won’t say what kind of church I went to, except that it was one of the older denominations.

When I first arrived, looking up at the vaulted ceiling and the stained glass, I felt a sense of peace, as though God was there. And then the ceremony got underway. And the sensation vanished.

Man, what a contrast, between this church and the church I’ve been attending.

At the church I attended on Sunday, people are thrilled to be there. There is interesting teaching which always seems to be directly applicable to a problem I’ve had during the preceding week. Worship is sincere and spirited and joyful. And the congregation is right in the middle of it. They are listening and praying and responding and worshiping.

At the church I went to today, four old gentlemen in ornate robes stood behind a mammoth table, reciting canned prayers and rituals. The people in the pews were purely spectators. I’m sure they prayed and took the proceedings seriously, and they did answer the priests as required, but it was as though they were behind a fence, watching while the four old men interacted with God. How different from my relationship with God. I carry on the vast bulk of it myself; I would literally rather die than let an intermediary handle it. I go to church for teaching and to be among other Christians, not to let some seminary graduate process me like a Volvo at a car wash. For me, it’s all day, every day. The hour or two I spend at church on Sunday is just a small part of it.

The tedium was oppressive. After forty-five minutes, I was dying to leave. I thought the ceremony had to be nearly over, but I looked at the program, and we were still somewhere in the middle of it. We got in and out in two hours, but I felt like it was three.

Suddenly, toward the end, I remembered…this is how I used to feel in church! This was the misery that made me dread church when I was a kid. I was upset by it today, because my father was there with me, and as far as I know, he only enters churches for funerals. My sister and I have been hoping to persuade him to go to church, and here he was, in this incredibly lifeless and dreary place, suffering from boredom and alienation.

I really hated church when I was a kid. I had forgotten. I think alienation was a big reason. At the traditional churches my mother dragged us to, things were done by rote. Computers could have been programmed to do the whole business. Like Disney’s Hall of the Presidents. Past writings and set traditions have their place, but when you exalt them too much, you insult people who are alive today. You imply that their thoughts and feelings and contributions are worthless. Why should I go to church if everything of value has already been done and said, hundreds or thousands of years ago? Why not put it on a DVD so I can watch it without being inconvenienced? What is the point of making me attend in person?

If I had to go to a church like that, I think I’d stay home. I felt trapped, like a claustrophobic in an MRI machine. No wonder so many churches are losing members. It’s painful to sit through that kind of thing, unless your boredom threshold is extraordinary. When I was a kid, I seriously believed that salvation was partly a reward for enduring one hour of utter misery every week. Now I have a refreshed understanding of why I felt that way.

When I go to Trinity Church, I look forward to it for two days before the service. I look forward to it on the drive. I’m relieved when I get there. I can’t wait to hear the sermon. I love the teaching. I love the warmth of the people, and their proactive approach. They come up to you and talk to you. If you’re up at the altar for some reason, a total stranger may put his or her hands on your shoulders without warning and pray for you. They invite you to get involved with church programs. They laugh. Couples sit pressed against each other. Last week we sat behind a mixed middle-aged couple, and the man had his arm around his wife the whole time. And you can literally feel God’s presence every time you go, surrounding you and rising up inside you. I always hate leaving, because I want to stay where that sensation is. On top of that, it seems like some funny coincidence happens on the way home, every time, which turns out to be a remarkable and unexpected blessing.

The new churches have their failings. They sometimes verge on heresy. They make mistakes. They don’t do a good enough job, keeping hucksters out of the pulpit. Sometimes they emphasize blessings above duty. But they are getting better, and anyway, I can’t imagine joining a church like the one I visited today. Not after what I’ve seen elsewhere. Honestly, I admire people who go to bloodless, gloomy churches where empty pomp and pageantry are passed off as evidence of God’s imprimatur. Those people have more self-discipline than I do. I do not have the strength of character to go to a church where I am miserable and feel nothing. Given the choice, I’d go to the other extreme and attend a place where people roll in the floor.

Besides, if you want to hear about error, consider this: the church I went to today ordains gays. So it’s pretty clear how much reverence they have for God’s will and the clear language of the Bible. A church that endorses sexual sin is not a good place to go for spiritual guidance. A church is supposed to lead society; a church that endorses gay sex is following. Wait and see. Any error society embraces will eventually be accepted openly by this church. Society’s approval is what matters to them. Jesus, on the other hand, told his followers the world would hate them, and that it had hated him first.

It’s peculiar; in its rites and prayers and hymns, the church I went to today is frozen in the very distant past. But its doctrine comes from the present day. Forget the Torah; forget the Gospels. Make up new stuff that doesn’t offend! Crib from Oprah! Let MTV be your guide!

If this church had real power and life in it, it would be attracting members without compromising. Because the power and life are gone, it has to resort to pandering. It’s spiritual promiscuity; a church like that is like a loose woman who offers whatever she has to, in order to attract men. No wonder the Bible uses words like “whoredom” and “adultery” to describe churches that adopt the policies of the unbelieving world. And really, why go to church to learn how to behave like non-Christians? If you want the real non-Christian experience, go to bars and movies and strip clubs. People who have no interest at all in God are much better than a weak church, when it comes to helping you experience worldly pleasures. Do it right; go to the experts. If I lose my faith and decide the Bible is wrong, I’ll be in the brothels and topless bars as often as possible. I won’t be hanging around with a bunch of confused clergymen who are no fun whatsoever.

If you’re a Christian and you quit going to a traditional church because you just could not stand it, or because you realized there was almost nothing there, you really need to give the newer churches a try. I wouldn’t try to persuade an active member of a traditional church to change, but if you find church boring and lifeless, and you can’t find the strength to attend, you might find that there are churches available now that suit you better than you ever thought possible. Please don’t judge every church by the awful experiences you’ve had in the past. If you quit going to church because you thought God should be exciting and powerful and a source of joy, you were right, and there are churches where you can find the God you wished existed. He is there waiting for you.