In a message dated 1/1/04 1:00:54 PM, GlmceN@NETSCAPE.NET writes:

<< I do all my own work because: 1.) I am not satisfied by the quality work
performed by shops in the past >>

This is a curse which seems to haunt me whenever I hand over one of my prized
jewels to a shop.  It started early on when I bought my second brand new
bike, a '69 Triumph Bonneville.  Oh, how I loved that thing and I lavished many
hours of tender loving care on it.  I dutifully took it to the dealer for its
first required service at 600 miles.  They were supposed to change the vital
fluids and make sure everything was in order.  I rode it for the next 1000 miles
thinking all was right with the world.  Then, when I went to change the engine
oil, along with the oil the threads in the case also came out.  I was pissed,
but I was also stuck out in left field 120 miles from the dealer with no
tools or garage at my disposal and not much money to boot.

I guess this relates to what I said before about doing what you have to do
whenever you have to do it.  So, I sucked it up and came up with a game plan
which was to ream the bitched tapping for the closest oversized thread I could
find.  The thread form went from Whitworth to English in the process and I had
to have a one-off drain plug made at a local jobber shop.  It's so long past
that the details are a bit fussy, but I remember hanging the bike off the edge
of the front porch of the duplex where I was living using some found cribbing.
"Found cribbing" meant the concrete block and 2X12 bookshelf system from my
"living" room; the bookshelf system was originally "found" at one of the many
construction sites on campus.  I needed to do this to get a straight shot at
the drain hole because life was bad enough already and I sure as hell didn't
want to cock the new thread.

I also recall the then staggering cost of the tooling and machine work.  I
think the hand reamer alone cost all of thirteen 1969 dollars.  Although I have
only used it a few of times over the ensuing years, that reamer in my tool
cabinet serves as a reminder of shop work gone awry.  The curse live on.

George