Chapter 79

The CNC (computer numerical cutter)laser for the frames came and the crew are playing with it. The dimensions for the real boat were sent on flash drive. The cutter is huge ... but it takes whole 5’x10’ sheets of 4 mm plywood. Two boats from three sheets. One of the crew has designed a okoume strip iceboat made from the scrap. He may have added a new product for us.

The spruce stringers will have to be steam bent ... they splinter if not steamed.

Someone has come up with a 16 foot tube of pvc pipe. It’ll hold a weeks worth of spruce. The building has steam heat ... it was a simple matter of running me off for a weekend. When I came home we had a spruce steamer ... I don’t want to know.

I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

Tyche has confiscated one side of my two car garage. When I asked she said, “Airplane.” She has been made a ‘regular’ at the drugstore ... bandaids ... her ‘swear jar’ is getting full.

The Volvo is wonderful. It’s not as pretty as a VW ... but it has a working heater. The Swedes are used to winter.

Ice Boats ... where was I? It seems that there are several sports on the ice ... fish shanties, hockey, ice boats and “Hey, watch this. Somebody hold my beer.” Single insanities include the Polar bear swim, and Saunas. Sauna includes the obligatory nude dash and roll in the snow. There isn’t much else to do ... except baby practice.

Tyche’s Aerodrome Fokker DR1 kit came by truck.

“Youse guys are damned hard to find,” was the first thing the driver said.

“Need any help with unloading?”

“Naw, I have a forklift. Aerodrome ... airplane?”

“My daughter’s latest madness. Do me a favor ... when the engine comes ... lose it for at least 6 months.” I slipped him a hundred.

“Yes ma’am.”

Tyche came roaring around the garage, “Is that it?”

“Yes, Tyche. Go wash. Hi boys. You go wash too.” The last thing I expected was Alan’s boys hanging out with Tyche.

She came back first.

“Tyche? What the... ?”

“Slave labor.”

The driver unloaded the crate and stuffed it in the garage. He even brought his own rollers to slide it on.

The packing slip was stapled on the box side along with the instructions.

She started reading the instructions.

“That’s your daughter?” Asked the trucker. “Isn’t she kinda young?”

“Look at the size of the crate ... now look at her ... how long do you think it’ll take that little girl to build it?”

“If she finishes it.”

“There is that.”

“Hi, you are? Oh ... the truck driver ... I read your shirt.

“Mom ... shopping list ... tubing cutter, pneumatic pop-rivet gun and air compressor, Dremel tool. Drill and bits, jigsaw and a compass ... not for direction but for cutting plywood circles.”

The driver left shaking his head and Alan showed up. First he looked at the kit and an assembly video, they had lunch and Alan took the boys home.

Tyche said, “You’ve been in a better mood, mom ... have you and Alan been doing adult things?”

Alan came back ... with 2 sheets of 3/4 inch MDF and a roll of Fokker paper. Fokker paper is like thick cardboard without the corrugated middle. He went to Lowes for it. The Dr1 needs a flat and level construction table wide enough for constructing the wings and long enough to build the fuselage. The support structure needs to be dead level and flat so the construction area is level and flat. Rather than building the work surface to fit Tyche, she got a longish foot stool. She’s been growing like a clump of leafy spurge and we’ve decided to hold off on the ‘flower girl’ dress until the week before the wedding.

The best idea yet ... Alan brought a laser level and checked the garage floor ... it wasn’t ... level. So ... Ludington Cement and gravel has this liquid that seeks a level and then hardens. But not until Monday.

I will be at work so I won’t get to watch the first fiasco.

The hardware store delivered two kerosene heaters ... they called them torpedo heaters ... rented ... not bought. “You’ll need them to help dry the floor.”

Monday ... I drove to work ... one and a half blocks ... but the garage needed to be empty.

I didn’t know.

Tyche stayed home and ‘advised.’

“Mom ... that man picked me up and put me in the house.” “I just wanted to see.”

“How does it look?”

“Beautiful ... and flat. Alan was pleased. You can park in tomorrow. 18 hours to ‘set up.’ I didn’t get to put my hand print in it.”

“Alan was here?”

“Still is ... I think he’s taking a nap.”

I rushed to the living room. No Alan. Nope ... he was curled up in MY bed.

“Tyche ... go eat it the Antler ... I’m going to be busy.”

“Ooo ... adult things.”

“Scoot.”