It may be the emergency brake cable acting up.

First I’d better mention that I write a lot better than I wrench.  This blurb, therefore, is for the very occasional shade-tree mechanic, not for the dedicated gear head who will probably find it ludicrously simple.

For example when I started the project I didn’t know which cap to take off to loosen the brake shoes.  Honest.  It’s not that simple.  There are two black things at the bottom where they used to be on a Beetle.  They don’t come off.  Then there’s a little one up at the top.  That’s the one, it turns out.  I took the wheels off, thinking I might find an adjustment port in the plate under the wheel, like on my golf cart.  No.

Deprived of an easy and obvious way to loosen the brake shoes, I selected the looser wheel and tried to take the drum off without easing the shoes back.  I remembered my mechanic mentioning you can thread two bolts into special holes on Toyota drums to work as a sort of drum-puller.  I tried two, 5/16” bolts.  These worked, but one stripped before I had torn the drum free from the shoes.

Stymied, I went to the garage and returned with a 20 ounce framing hammer.  I was going to do some pounding and see if that would help.  With the help of the hammer, I was able to relocate the unadjusted brake shoes enough to slide the drum off over the top.  Remember that this wheel was the one which was tight, but far from seized.

Once I got the drum off I realized the emergency brake cable lever and linkage looked kinda stiff, so I decided to whack it a bit.  It took a fair amount of work to move it, and it is supposed to articulate freely, right?  I found some lithium grease in a spray can in the cupboard, so I socked it to the various levers of this linkage until it had freed up.  Then I nuked the area with brake cleaner so that I wouldn’t wreck the shoes.

Not having learned the lesson which should have been obvious at this point (that the emergency brake linkage is what is causing the brakes to bind, and the shoes can be freed up by forcing the lever back towards the drum) I tried to transfer what I had   learned of brake anatomy on the right side to the left-hand drum.  Just for the record, the adjusters are threaded right-hand on the right, and left-hand on the left.  If you remember nothing else from this tale, retain that.

Then when you have a screwdriver poised to rotate the adjuster, you can puzzle out which way to turn it.  I admit I guessed and got lucky.  The way it wanted to turn (I can’t remember which) didn’t actually free up the shoes, but it did no harm, and before long I decided to try banging on the emergency brake lever with my hammer and that freed up the shoes.

It wasn’t quite according to plan, but it was obviously the correct thing to do, because the drum came right off once I had forced the lever back into place.  Then all I had to do was lubricate the linkage and work the levers until it responded to the pull of the brake springs.

I remember watching my mechanic use coarse sandpaper on the drums and shoes to roughen them up before reassembly, so I did that and carefully put the drums and wheels back on.

Then I had to set up the back brake shoes, of course, because I had turned them way in to facilitate assembly.  The emergency brake operates the adjuster plate inside the brake drum each time the cable is tightened, so I methodically put the parking brake on and released it many times until the brakes would hold on a moderate slope.

When I moved it the truck immediately felt lively and healthy after the repair.  Before, it had felt cranky and rough, not pleasant to drive.  I guess the stuck wheel put an awkward load on the suspension, and did its best to keep the vehicle from moving at every start and turn.

The job took a morning of leisurely work, but paid off in much better ride and performance from the truck, not to mention  the dramatically increased life expectancy of the brakes.

So the lesson?  Before you try to turn back the adjusters, get the slack out of the emergency brake lever.  You may not need any more.

Jeffrey Simpson’s column in today’s Globe speaks of the four blocks in Canadian federal politics, and how they consign Canadians to minority governments for the forseeable future.  The Conservatives hold the west and rural Ontario.  The Liberals hold urban centres in Ontario, English-speaking Quebec, and the maritimes.  The NDP pulls 15%.  The Bloc controls Quebec.  Simpson does not mention the Green Party in his analysis.

When speaking to veteran political observer and Leeds and Grenville Liberal nomination candidate Marjory Loveys this week I formed the impression that she is well aware of this logjam, but an interesting impression emerged from the discussion:

The philosophical differences between the NDP and the Liberals are certainly no wider than those of the Reform party and the Progressive Conservatives.  When’s the last time the NDP tried to nationalize a bank?  Oh wait:  the Republicans did that.  And Stephen Harper’s Conservative Party of Canada has practically nationalized the auto industry.  Uh… so what’s keeping the Liberals and the NDP from forming a coalition of the left to balance the CPC?  And the Green Party doesn’t fit anywhere on the political spectrum.  It’s a trend, a fashionable place to park a protest vote.  If the Liberal/NDP get a platform together and involve the Green trendites, a majority may well be within reach.

Don’t count the Left wing out just yet.

7:15.  Mom’s birthday dinner’s over; Charlie’s back at work on his car;  Roz is buried in a book, studying for her big exam;  Mom and Bet are washing dishes.  I am sleepy after a day of mowing.  Solution?  Go fishing.

Up I went to the boat at its dock in Newboro to wet a line.  A quarter mile out I found some likely pads and caught a bass on my first cast.  Oops.  Isn’t that supposed to be a jinx?

Then I caught four more in short order, two over three pounds, the others around two.  I stopped at five because it was starting to rain a bit and I had run out of the weeds with easy fishing.  Of six patches, five had fish.

This was too easy.  I let them all go and  drove home, chuckling.  I’ll keep some fish that I have earned.  It was 7:55 when I walked into the house.  The kids and Bet were amused by my account of this bravura  performance.

It doesn’t get a whole lot better than this, when one can complete a fishing trip in forty minutes, front door and return,  and with excellent results.  I think we’re going to like it here.

Neil Reynolds’ review of Michael Ignatieff’s speech last week in his column (The Globe and Mail, July 22, 2009) demanded a comment.  While I greatly admired Mr. Reynolds during his days as editor of The Kingston Whig Standard and even later as the founder of the Libertarian Party of Canada, I fear this review showed a careless reading of the subject and sloppy thought.

Mr. Reynolds:  You seem to be reviewing the speech you wish he had given, rather than the one he did.  I’m wondering how carefully you read the thing, frankly, for while bashing away for what the Liberal leader failed to say or said badly, you seem inadvertently to end up supporting Ignatieff’s main point in this carefully-veiled jab at his chief opponent: within the traditions of the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada, Michael Ignatieff is a better conservative than Stephen Harper.

Zeke, again

July 21, 2009

Tony and I were standing in the yard today looking down over the field where Bill Barrett was raking hay.  Hovering high above the tractor and poised to strike was a large, brown hawk.  The only bird I know that can hover like that is Zeke, the red-tailed hawk who grew up in the woodlot.  For some reason Zeke’s favourite method of hunting involves following a vehicle moving around a field.

Zeke’s back for his third haying season and he seems less bothered by blackbirds than before.  Today he pretty much ignored the redwing which was swooping around him.  I guess he had mice on his mind.

Later in the day I spoke to Bill’s wife, Lynn, and she mentioned that Bill had reported at lunch that he “had help in the field today”:  Zeke was keeping a close eye on things.

Bet stayed in town last night to finish some things up in the other house.  She sent this along this morning:
You may notice a lingering smell of Raid in the house.  I had an altercation with a bat last evening (I won).
I was lying in bed reading about 9:30, when this bat flew into the bedroom.  Despite my extreme panic, I recalled Orm Murphy telling me he always kept a can of Raid and a tennis racket beside his lazy boy.  I ran downstairs, grabbed the Raid (for ants, but it was the first thing I saw), and the adult-size tennis racket hanging at the bottom of the stairs.  Hands shaking, I unzipped the cover only to find a mangled racket inside.  The other racket was a kid-size (intact).
By this time it was circling the living room, so I sprayed and swatted (not easy to do with a short racket, and I can’t hit anything at the best of times) until it finally slowed down and landed on the window casing.  I wacked it until it fell to the floor, gave it a couple of more whumps, ran to get the mangled racket so I could pin it, then turfed it out the door.  No blood was shed, and I didn’t break anything.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much.  I left all the lights on and slept bolt upright with a broom handy.  I will sleep at the farm tonight.

James Travers’s column in today’s Toronto Star bemoans the loss of civility in parliament, laying the blame squarely at the feet of Stephen Harper and the CPC. I keep thinking of Swift’s Liliputians when I watch Harper at work. Here’s a rope-balancer who isn’t very good at it. He keeps letting someone else have the centre and then has to squawk and flap his arms like crazy to keep from falling, first to the left and then to the right. Ignatieff has planted himself more or less in the centre, so the increasingly strident Harper has to struggle on the margins.

Then Stephen Chase of  the Globe and Mail has an article on Harper’s announcement that the deficit will continue if growth does not eliminate it, even if it takes ten years, as most economists predict, to get over the current $17 billion/year drain (July 21, Ottawa likely stuck with deficits for a decade:  economist).

Funny, when Bob Rae ran a deficit like that in Ontario back in the nineties, he became a pariah, labelled variously a communist, an idiot, a fool, a traitor to his class.  Most tellingly, public employees revised the calendar to include the Rae-day, an ironic tribute to his leadership, and the NDP has never recovered.

So when a man leading a party which attempts to call itself “Conservative” adopts the same strategy, do these labels no longer apply?  To be a “Conservative” do you have to act like George Bush and ignore the facts, using reckless spending and relentless tax cuts to shore up personal popularity until the country is bankrupt?

Where I grew up a conservative spent what he earned and saved a bit for tomorrow.  He shared with his neighbours and cared for the needy.  He had no thought of helping a few friends get rich so he could eat at their tables later.  Not everybody agreed with the conservative, but they respected him.


Tony’s sister Sharon turned up from British Columbia this week with the fillets of a 20 pound spring salmon caught that day.

When asked to cook a fish from the salmon family, I throw it on a hot grill, baste with unsalted butter while turning frequently, and try to get the skin off the fillet as soon as it comes loose to allow further basting.  With this fish I realized the butter wasn’t necessary.  Spring salmon’s oil, while plentiful, is sweet and tasty, and the flesh promised to be light and delicious.  The problem was that in thickness the fillet ranged from a quarter inch to almost two inches.  How could I get it to cook evenly?

I cut it into thick pieces and thin pieces.  The thin pieces went to the table as soon as they were ready, and the thick chunks arrived as seconds.  Everyone had seconds and bickered over thirds until the meat was gone.  It was great.

Tony was a bit apprehensive about taking his sister fishing.  Where Sharon lives they normally haul in sturgeon over 100 pounds, and eat salmon from the river several months of the year.  How would she take to bass fishing on Newboro Lake?

By all reports Sharon is a match for her big brother’s considerable fishing skills.  What’s more, she loved to eat the local product.  This came as a surprise, but I guess bass have a distinctive texture and flavour, and are worth seeking out as a meal.  I suppose Tony may have picked up a trick or two at the grill over the years, as well.

In this area everybody and his dog knows how to cook bass, but after fifty years of practice I have hit on two methods I’ll pass along, anyway:

The Cast Iron Barbecue Method

Take your best cast-iron frying pan.  Dump in a generous pinch of coarse salt.  Add enough olive oil to cover the bottom to a depth of 1/8”.  Place the pan inside a hot barbecue and allow it to heat until the oil boils from the odd drop of water dripping from wherever.

Cover the bottom of the pan with fillets.  Close the lid on the grill until you turn them, using two, good-quality lifters.  My wife has an expensive fish spatula which works very well, but I wish she had two.  Keep turning the fillets at short intervals until they start to break apart.  Immediately transfer them to a platter where they will continue to cook until cool.  They will not have browned.  If you want brown fillets, use another recipe.  These will taste good.

Add a bit more oil and more fillets if you have them, because your guests will likely eat the first bunch from the platter.  That’s when they taste best, not after they have dried out on a plate waiting for the broccoli to cook.

Boiled Bass Fillets

Boil a pan of water, with salt added.  Drop in fresh or frozen bass fillets.  Control the flame enough that the whole thing doesn’t boil over.  Remove the fillets when they start to break apart.  Serve.  Eat like boiled potatoes, dipping each forkful in a bit of butter at the side of your plate.  This may not sound elegant, but it tastes great.

Selecting the bass to eat

Smallmouths live in deep water and eat minnows.  Shallow water largemouths eat crayfish.  I prefer largemouths.  You can legally keep a 12” bass, but we generally let them go up to nearly 14”, just because fish of that size make a better fillet.  On the other hand we don’t keep any fish over three pounds, as they are more likely to be loaded with pesticides and shouldn’t be eaten by kids or women of childbearing age.  More practically, the large bass are much more successful spawners than the younger fish, and it just makes sense to let them go.

If you caught a trophy bass and feel you must eat it

Yes, you can make it delicious.  Look up Mme. Jeanne Benoit’s The Canadiana Cookbook and get her instructions for roasting large fish.  These involve removing the gill cage and gutting the fish, a major task with a large bass (use side cutters or a hacksaw).  Then stuff the cavity with chicken stuffing and sew it up, leaving head, tail and scales in place.  Wrap in foil and bake at 450 for ten minutes per inch of thickness.  This usually works out to about 35 minutes for a large bass.

The end result tastes a lot like scallops.  It’s really good, but you shouldn’t eat large bass that often, and don’t let the kids have any.  The last time Bet did this it was a 7 lb. 4 oz bass I caught off the dock at Indian Lake Marina.  We took it as our contribution to the Annual Pot-luck Dinner, where everybody in the Marina brings his or her best dish and tempts the other guests to sample it.  The fish was gone, every last crumb, before the first ten people had gone through the lineup.

Moving Day!

July 18, 2009

We just finished the first meal in or new/old home.  We hauled furniture all day and set it up.  Charlie and Roz and Mom joined us.

As soon as Charlie hooked up the living room T.V. the bickerring started over the satelite t.v. feed.  Oh, well.  The floors are nice and the old furniture looks pretty good in the new rooms.

As of now the house in Smiths Falls becomes a construction zone until we list it for sale.  Plumbing and wiring to do.

George Grant still carries some weight with my generation of Canadians.  His pessimism ignited our nationalism;  his acceptance of the inevitability of American domination left us determined to prove the prophet wrong.  But the stimulus and the passion came from Lament For a Nation.

In True Patriot Love Michael Ignatieff uses Grant to establish his Conservative chops.  Last week in London he served notice in the Berlin Lecture that the CPC is no legitimate heir to the support of Progressive Conservative voters.  He stated in his lecture that Progressive Conservative leaders subscribed to a liberal-democratic tradition very like that of the Liberal Party of Canada.  He’s not wrong in this.

Then Tom Flanagan wrote the think-piece in the Globe accusing Liberals of squealing like little girls over a few attack ads, and Harper found himself inadvertently tarred with the Republican brush.  All of the sudden Uncle George starts to look pretty good to us wannabe Canadian nationalists, and Harper’s made-in-America politics doesn’t look Conservative at all.