It's goin'

OK!
Things are goin'.
I mean...I guess they are.
Two days ago I offered up stuff for sale to a couple of brothers. Stuff I really had no intention of ever selling but as my deadline to move grows closer, must sell. I need to get my friggin' truck repaired. And, it has to happen lickidy-split.
I have sold my spare planing forms, almost all my personal use flyrods and reels. Those just kept me eating for a while. What I have left were considered things I would never sell. I seem to be selling a lot of things I thought I would never sell lately. Crap.

So, I'm left with my puny handful of rods and reels and most of my tools. I'll make some new rods when I get to the cabin...I hope.
Selling tools for me is a milestone. Something I worked my ass off for, for a reason, only to turn around and sell...well, it makes me ill. I bought these tools to make a living. Selling these tools isn't a good thing in my mind.

The bright side is I'm moving to a place with no "on-demand" electricity. Parting with power tools isn't quite as painful as it could be. This would be QUITE painful otherwise.

I have 4 lathes. One wood lathe (reel seats and bowls), three metal lathes (ferrules, grips, lapping ferrules, etc) , one of which doesn't run. I can spare a lathe or two in the big scheme of things. I want the lathe I drove 2000 miles for, looked for five years for, paid a grand for, bought a brand new trailer to haul it with and spent a couple nights in a motel room for, not counting fuel to get there and haul it back. That was a pricey little lathe. Right now that 4 grand would make every single thing I need to make happen...happen...I don't have it. I don't care, I want that machine.

So I offer up a pristine,dialed in, 7X10 mini-lathe and a twelve or fifteen something year old dead twin. The current mini has damn few hours on it. Zip. New. The dead mini isn't much good other than spare parts, but those parts are worth more than a new lathe...ask me how I know?
Since the lathe I thought I would be keeping can't use any of the tooling, I threw them into the package as well. Two lathes, a bunch of tooling, 200 bucks. Now I need 500 more to get my truck fixed.

What else can I part with and live another day?

Staring me dead in the face is my roughing beveler. Shit...

It's worth some money, has some history, and it's powered by (gasp) electricity. This machine and bench are easily worth 500 bucks. That and the mini would get my truck fixed. I offer it up as well.
Another brother tells me he'll try and see what he can do.

A brother backs out. No hard feelings whatsoever. The other decides against the investment.

OK.

I consider the next step and the time I have left to make this happen. I also look at what I can part with in time to make this happen. I'm pretty screwed.
I now consider selling the mother lathe for a grand. Hauling it to you extra.
It will fix my truck by itself. This is more than painful...I mean I'm just a pitiful mess at this point.
I rationalize. I only need one functional metal lathe. Sell either one, but do not sell them both.

A brother writes back and tells me he won a golf game and can buy the mini after all! Fooking right on!
The day is looking better after all.

Now, yesterday I called the Amerigas guy and asked him how much lead time he had to have to fix up an old propane tank between the time I said "do it" and when I could pick it up in Glendale AZ.
He didn't call back until this morning.
When he did, he told me my tank was on the way to the mighty metropolis of Congress, AZ.

WTF?

I just wanted to know how much notice he needed, ya know?

The guy tells me, the tank is on the way to the Congress yard...I fumble and recover. I'm thinking that I need $187.50 today. So I throw crap back at him. "How much do you need today"? "Will you take a check"? "What size tank are you actually selling me"? "Can you set it on my trailer rather than just sticking it in your yard"?

The answers to all my questions are positive. That's why he's the manager. He tells me he can't think of whether it's a 120 or 150 ga tank. No big I says to meself. He tells me a check is fine. Perfect. He says he'll text the driver and have him call me.
The driver calls me 15 minutes later and tells me he's sitting about a mile away and would be happy to set the tank on my trailer.

Perfect.

He gets here...we start yakking, turns out he is from my old home town.
I ask him if he ever fished the canyon I fished almost everyday. He did. Often.

And now a major hurdle is once again jumped...

That is a 120 ga tank that can be filled to hold 90 actual gallons of highly flammable propane that will fire a stove, some wall mounted lamps, and hopefully a 'fridge.
Once I get settled up there and a little free time, I'll repaint it to look like a yellow submarine.

Life is suddenly good once again...now if I can just get the rest of the cash I need to get the gotam truck runnin'.

You know...a good brother was once going to give me a lesson on brevity. He didn't do it and so you are stuck with this instead.
Blame it all on him.