Category: default || By jt3y

Somewhere in my basement is a partially-assembled RCA 1-T-5J "Globetrotter" transistor radio that I bought at an estate sale for $3. It was beat to hell and back, but I took it apart, polished the plastic case with Brasso, stripped the chipped finish from the aluminum face plate and gave it a new coat of enamel. It's going back together just as soon as I find a diagram for restringing the dial.

I started that project in 1995, if I remember correctly.

There are also a bunch of model airplanes --- all commercial propeller-driven planes from the 1950s. There's a Douglas DC-6 and DC-7, a Convair 240, and a Lockheed Super Constellation, and another that I'm forgetting. There are also some postcard images, a couple of pictures from the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh's collection, and photos downloaded from various websites of old airliners at Allegheny County Airport and Greater Pitt. I also have some printouts of emails that I exchanged with some retired airline pilots here and there, trying to track down the exact Allegheny Airlines paint scheme of the early '60s. (If I remember correctly, an extremely light blue on top, with red and dark blue striping.)

Those emails are from 2000.

And please don't ask me about the blank card envelopes, paper and assorted other items I purchased from various office supply stores because I was going to make my own Christmas cards. Not only didn't I complete that, I finally broke down and bought store-bought cards at the drug store.

The store-bought cards are in the lower right drawer of my desk at home. They're from 2001. I wound up using the special Christmas postage stamps to mail bills. And I still am. (So if anyone from Duquesne Light reads this, that's why you're still getting the Nativity scene stamps on my payments.)

I always start these hobby projects in good faith, and then real life intervenes. Usually, I run out of time or money. Occasionally, I get stuck on a problem with no apparent answer, like fixing the radio, or figuring out the proper registration number for a Mohawk Airlines DC-3 in 1962. (Don't bother looking. Airliners magazine did a story on Mohawk a few years ago that had that very information. Now, if only I can find it.) The end result is a pile of stalled projects. Some of them, indeed, are stored at my mother's house, much to her lasting chagrin.

The biggest project staring me in the face right now is the Dodge Diplomat in my garage. It hasn't moved since the winter, when a friend and I installed a new ignition system and set the timing. By the time we were done, the car (which was driveable, though the idle was rough) was purring along at idle ... but it barely had enough power to move out of its own way, and left a thick black line of soot up the driveway when I tried to take it on a test drive. I have a feeling we someone reversed two of the spark plug wires, or else we completely bolloxed up the timing.

I need a free weekend to pull the Dodge out into the sunshine and check everything over again, but it just isn't going to happen any time soon. I have enough trouble getting the work done on the car and house that I have to do, let alone busying myself with hobbies. (I'm fairly good about the routine chores, like keeping the dishes washed and the bathroom clean, because I don't want to be attacked by the creeping crud in the middle of the night. But someday, real soon now, I've got to pull the dead flowers out of the front yard. At least before the new flowers try to come up next year.)

Occasionally, I feel like just forgetting about all of these projects; hold a flea market and sell the model airplanes, call the junkyard to come and get the car, and put the radio (and its many siblings stashed at various places around the house) on eBay. Either that, or just dig a big pit behind the house, line it with plastic, toss everything in and bury it. Perhaps 200 years from now, an archeologist will excavate it and be delighted (if someone mystified) to find a seemingly random cache of preserved 20th century artifacts.

On the other hand, having them around serves to keep me humble. Every time I complete something and smack myself on the back for accomplishing something, I turn around and see a model railroad engine that's waiting for me to find the proper gear train, or some old Kennywood posters I'm planning to frame and hang downstairs, or the photos and negatives I'm going to sort and catalog.

And the good news is that come retirement, which is only about 35 years away, I won't be one of those people who sits around and pines for things to do. I have all of these projects to work on, and some of them (like the car or the radios) will undoubtedly have increased in value by then.

The only thing that worries me is: How many more half-finished projects will I have by then?