I was looking through the archives and was surprised to see that 10 years ago, Midlana was already complete enough that it was first tuned at the dyno shop. In other news, my brother was set to do the Virginia City Hillclimb again this year but it got cancelled, so he decided instead to get married, hah.
We finally finished cleaning out our parent’s house and it’s now up for sale, so maybe I get back some of my weekend, which has me thinking about what project to do next, but I’m sort of going in circles. As was written earlier, the idea was putting a fiberglass 1930’s coupe body on a late model Corvette. That thinking is confronted with several issues: it’s not anything new or unusual (but, do I care?); I don’t have enough space due to the sheer volume of the parts; I currently want to keep Midlana, which is occupying the build space; because Midlana is being kept, its value isn’t available to fund the next project.
Then there’s wondering whether I should consider going electric, but that means sinking $$$$ (or even $$$$$) into just the drivetrain. There’s a ton of old Priuses (“Pre-eye”?) out there, potentially cheap donors for a play car. The thing is that I don’t want to deal with hybrids due to them having two systems instead of just one—I’d either stay gas or go all-electric. Once it’s finished, it’s essentially a rebodied Prius/Volt/Bolt/Tesla, which, okay, I guess. And then there’s not knowing how much weight can be stripped out of such a thing, A Tesla Model 3 is around 4,000 lbs, so giving it the light shell and tube frame treatment might bring it down to what, 2,500-3,000 lbs? But then it’s essentially an electric Midlana. Since I already have Midlana, I don’t feel very motivated to convert it over because the driveline (motor and battery pack) needs to be designed around from the start. It would be a lot easier for a new Midlana builder to put such a driveline on his build table and go from there. Anyway, for me, I’d like something with more creature comforts, hence me going round in circles, hah.
As I type this, it’s 106° F and is right on schedule, being the first week of September. Before it got really unpleasant this morning, I cleaned out the rat-poop infested workshop at my parent’s house, which finishes the worst part of the job. The house and garage are now about 98% cleaned out, so attention is turning toward making the yard a bit nicer before the house goes up for sale.
It’s a sad but necessary part of life, cleaning out your parent’s home, but so it goes. We’ve had several Zoom meetings with mom, her at the retirement home and us calling from her house. She’s both hard of hearing and has trouble processing sounds even when she does hear them, and between that and the typical laptop speakers, it’s not much of a meeting. She seems happy with the place, but did ask why she was there and when she could come home, and that’s when the feelings of guilt and deceit arise, but there wasn’t any choice in the matter. Anyway, seeing us seems to make her happy, and that’s the whole point.
(It finally dropped below 100° F just before 6PM)
While I’d like to be driving Midlana, we’re busy cleaning out our parent’s house, hence the truck. The task that we were all putting off was cleaning out the workshop and behind the garage due to the huge amount of rat droppings. I decided to first spray it with a very fine mist of water to settle the dust, then blast it out with a strong water jet. Bleach was considered, but it leaves a very strong lingering smell, and we hope to sell the house sooner rather than later. Also, since both the workshop and rear of the garage are nearly fully enclosed, the bleach smell would remain trapped, so that was off the list.
The foul stuff completely filled a wheel barrow—it was bad. I dispatched four out of six mice that darted out as I lifted one of the million boxes, and two rat parents ran off, leaving a crying baby. I did not enjoy that but it had to be done. The rear of the garage is done, and the floor in the workshop, but with my brother being off enjoying a track day at Laguna Seca instead of helping out, means that he gets to deal with the workshop shelves, which has its own share of squeaking noises, scurrying feet, and droppings everywhere.
Next week I’m on-call, and between that and this, I feel like I’ve lost control of my weekends. I know that “this, too, shall pass”, but I look forward to returning to my own garage to piddle about, perhaps after this first heatwave of the year has run its course.