No photo excursions again this week. Mr. H's surgery went well and he's recuperating nicely. Actually, he's doing much better than we thought, but I'm still not venturing far from home. We get out and walk each day, but I'm more concerned with him falling than shooting pictures. So, here I go again, looking for something close to home, but something that interests me. Something different than fall leaves or mushrooms. As I walked across my parents back yard, I saw my dad's old spray rig sitting neglected along the property line.
My dad was a painter. He painted many a house inside and out. He was also know to balance on scaffolding and paint water towers, long before safety ropes were mandatory. When he spray painted structures he would hook up his rig and head out.
There wasn't a lot of towing regulations back then, but at least he had a safety chain. Which leads to a story. In the late 50's and early 60's we moved several times. We lived in a mobile home or trailer as we called it, so it was easy to pick up and move. Just unhook the electrical, water, and sewer, pack a few breakables, tape the drawers and doors shut, and we were ready to go. Dad lead our little procession driving a sawed-off fire engine that pulled the trailer. Mom drove the station wagon and pulled the spray rig. On this particular day as we were traveling down the highway, the spray rig came loose (maybe that was before the safety chain!). It went off the road and into a deep ditch. Knowing that we couldn't get it out mom began chasing down dad. Evidently dad had the petal to the metal, because we went miles before we caught up with him and had him pull over. Of course, then we had to backtrack to get the rig. It could have been very serious, but we laugh about it now. How mom had to speed to catch dad pulling a house trailer.
Back to the spray rig and all it's rusty parts. There are pulleys and belts that sent the motor spinning...
building up pressure to spray the paint. I know it looks like I took this pressure gauge sideways, but I didn't that's the way it is on the tank.
I wonder if my mom knew dad's spray rig had a devil on it. She probably thought it was possessed when it came undone and went flying off the road!
My dad has always believed a little bit of electrical tape could fix anything. Note the splatters of paint on the tape.
Paint is splattered over everything including the brake lights.
Dad wasn't one to spend useless money. I guess you could say he recycled before recycling was cool. When he build the spray rig he used what he had on hand or found in junk yards. Notice the brake lights...one square...one round. But, hey, they did the job and were probably free!
I found lots of grunge, rust and textures.
Dad retired many years ago, and the spray rig has mostly just sat in this spot. Only brought out a few times to paint something around the house. It's deteriorating and will probably be taken apart soon, so I wanted to capture a few photos of it.
Linked with Helen's Weekend Walk at A Flash Of Inspiration