Having seen the photos of Krissy becoming a sawyer at the Tyler household, my father-in-law David decided that on his most recent visit to our pioneering estate he would like to do some milling on our borrowed portable lumber mill. So we went up the hill and started ripping timber.
In the course of 2x4 production, the belt that links the motor to the saw blade snapped, and our fruitful entertainment came to an abrupt halt. We pulled off the cover and discovered the ragged length of v-belt dangling over the wheels. Until I replaced this part, there would be no more milling. I shook the bits of torn rubber out of the casing and observed with David that the likely culprit in breaking the belt was a guide post that had been maladjusted. So I made a mental note to take the broken belt to the local hardware store and replace it.
Finding a replacement for a broken v-belt of precisely the right length presents a greater problem then one might imagine. The rubber was stiff and the belt was broken--that is, it no longer kept a neat, oval, measurable shape. Thus I spent about fifteen minutes on the floor of the hardware store trying to hold the broken specimen next to new belts in order to ascertain whether the new belt was the right length. At long last, having identified a 65" belt as the right length, I purchased it and went home.
The belt didn't fit.
And I don't mean that it didn't operate smoothly once I placed it on the wheels. I mean that with a team of Indian elephants I couldn't have pulled that belt over the wheels. (I thought about calling up my mahout friends, but the instructions on the belt clearly direct, "Do not pry onto wheels.")
In a moment of clarity and reason, I looked down to where I had dumped out the contents of the belt cover the day before. There, in the pile of shredded rubber, I discovered my error. Some of the belt had broken off the length I had. I had measured with an incomplete remnant.
Lesson #1: Pay attention. That--whatever it is--may be important later.
Armed with this new clarity--and feeling more confident for it--I took a length of rope and wound it around the wheels, marking the length required for the full circuit. 68 inches. I thought I remembered that the hardware store had a 68-inch v-belt. Surely I was on the right path now; but as I stood there with a broken belt in my hand, a little voice reminded me that I had never changed a belt in a motor in my life. How did I presume to know what I was doing?
First of all, do they measure the length of a belt on the outer diameter or the inner diameter? With a thickness of 5/8 of an inch, the difference would be significant. I had no idea how they measured v-belt length. As I stood there thinking of all the reasons I might have to make a third trip to the hardware store, it dawned on me that I had the phone number of the lumber mill manufacturer in my pocket, and a cell phone on my hip.
"Turner Mills."
"Hi. What length is the v-belt from the motor to the saw wheel on your portable mills?"
"71 inches is the standard."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome."
Lesson #2: Call and ask. You'll feel more stupid if you don't.
The hardware store didn't have a 71-inch v-belt, but the local Napa auto parts store did--or at least would have it by 8:00 the next morning. So at 8:20am I plodded out to the mill and armed it with the new bright green v-belt. It hung loose on the wheels, even with the clutch engaged. Hmmm. But I didn't have to pry it onto the wheels, so I figured I was all right. Hallelujah! Problem solved.
I started up the motor, engaged the blade, and resumed the cut we were making when the belt snapped. Although the blade turned well enough, against the resistance of the wood during the cut the belt began to slip until the blade stuck in the wood.
Lesson #3: Although it's never too early to say Hallelujah, sometimes the problem is more complicated than it at first appears.
Moving the saw blade very slowly, I finished the current cut and moved the boards off the mill. With four logs to go, cutting at this pace would be torturous. So I pulled the belt guard off again and examined the machine. Maybe I could get away with a slightly shorter belt?
Back to Napa for a 70-inch v-belt. It fit comfortably on the wheels; the clutch pulled a little tighter now, but the blade had the full power of the engine. I fired that puppy up and prepared the next log. As I engaged the saw blade, a column of smoke began to emerge from the belt casing.
After some choice words, I pulled the belt guard off and noticed something that in retrospect had been there all along but I just now engaged: a belt-shaped black streak on the inside of the guard. After further inspection, I found that the belt, even when seated properly on the fly wheels, rubbed against the belt guard. This phenomenon explained why the owner of the mill had told me that he'd gone through three belts per year since he bought it.
Lesson #4: Where there's smoke, there's a problem.
Fixing the belt guard required welding experience, which is out of my league. So I milled the last three logs in defiance of manufacturer's advice: without the belt guard in place. (This means that in theory the belt could have slipped off at any time and smacked me in the head. Lesson #5: Kids, don't do this at home.)
I finished off the last three logs (2x4s, a few 2x6s, and one sweet mama of a 2x10), and shut the mill down so the owner could come get it. When I called him, I told him the belt guard problem, for which he was thankful. I also told him that I had to put on a 70-inch belt, even though the 71-inch was supposed to be standard.
"Oh, no," he said. "The 71-inch belt is right. You can adjust the tension after the belt is on."
Lesson #6: Remember Lesson #2. Going it alone is foolish, time-consuming, and expensive.
~emrys
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