[woofa.express]

Oh how we improvised.

This story was prompted by Jim Brierley’s book followed by a comment about me by my sister. She said, to the effect, like father, like son.
I grew up on a dairy farm. One that needed to be bought into production from its swampy- flax growing former times. I can well remember these big flax plants being pushed over then cultivated again and again before being sown to pasture. Today it would be much easier with a dose of good herbicide.
Our transport around the farm was an International W4 tractor (like Mike Peters avatar) which had poor steering- one third of a steering wheel turn of slop. Dad said the kingpins needed replacement. I didn’t have a clue what kingpins were. Now I wonder why they weren’t repaired or replaced. No money I guess. The trailer had a wooden tray with sides about 12 inches high and it ran on rather large tyres which Dad called balloon tyres. Infact they came from a Mustang fighter and so did about 18 canopies Granddad had in his garden to cover and protect tomatoes from early frosts. Today every aeroplane enthusiast would be horrified at the trashing of these successful and beautifully appealing fighter aeroplanes. To couple the trailer to the tractor we used an unusual pin. It was rather short and had a square shaft to go through the round holes in the draw bar and trailer? It wasn’t until I turned 20 or even later I learned these pins were old railway spikes use to secure the steel rails to the wooden sleepers. We had boxes full of them. Dad would buy them at clearing sales. He was a terror at buying sundries. The clearing sale would always launch with boxes of “sundries” and before the auctioneer would begin he would ask “is Harold here?, we can’t start without him”. Harold being Dad. Dad said he needed to make such purchases because he would often find something handy in those boxes which only needed only a simple repair. That never happened of course. More and more sundries would be stacked in our garage untill mum would pack them in the boot of our car, take them to the bridge which crossed the nearby river and chuck them. They were never missed.
When I finished school I worked in a paper producing plant to save and pay for my flying lessons. I never did miss dairy cows. My farm upbringing taught me many things. To improvise- learned from Dad. To think clearly. To handle machinery; tractors, front end loaders, hay mowers (sickle bars) and to spread fertilizer. We did two ton a day, between milkings. (Compare that with more than 170 ton a day I later spread with aeroplanes- turbines). It was all good training for flying. After all an aeroplane is simply another machine.
And to improvise. Today much of what I need for my yard or work-shop can be acquired for naught. Good working and sometimes expensive equipment can be found discarded at our town rubbish tip. When I was a kid all I wanted was a bicycle but today and a large range can be found at this very place. What a change in attitude in just one generation.
What prompted this story? Well it was reading the introduction in Jim Brierley’s book. I thought we had it tough, well that was until I read Jim's book. Jim grew up in times much harder than mine. Do read about this in his book. which is about the mechanics and repairs of the prettiest and possibility the most simple motor car ever built of course. That's the Model A of course!