2005, Week 2: World 6 - Clime 0
That's what you get for thinking like a little kid...
Now, Clime isn't the one for manual labor. Clime is mostly noted for his significantly neat handwriting and his ability to operate a PC, a task most trained apes can't do. That said, when we were a little short handed out on the floor and the guys were swamped, I offered to take on the work on the Homag. Hey, this thing is as big as the third floor of LBG's and my house, runs multi-axis cutting of material, is automated and is noisy. Sooo, lets face it: Big machines are COOL, and I wanna run it. Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh?
So I've got a huge-ass plate of polycarbonate in the thing and am letting it run on an automated cut plan. This is something to remember. It is running on it's own... So it's jamming along and, on a pause, I reach in to square the material off. At the same time, one of the freight company drivers comes in and yells 'heya' to all my guys. I turn to wave at him using my free hand with a "look at me now!" kind of look. While doing this the retaining boom lowers on me. The one, instant, and completely lucid thought comes into my head:
"I am about to have my arm sawn off."
The next thought, and action is to shoot my free hand over to this plug on the boom that when yanked down shuts down the pneumatics to the boom and resets the computer so the cutting impliment cant continue running. Why do I know this? Because just yesterday I asked my acryllic fabber "Gee, what's that thing for?" Can an average man curl two hundred pounds with one arm? On a shitload of adrenaline, YOU BETCHYA.
So I'm throwing myself clear, on my knees like Indiana Jones shooting out of the temple in the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark only the golden statue is my right arm, and I look around to see one of my guys lying on his back on a table with his feet in the air laughing his ass off and the driver teary eyed with laughter too. That's what you get when you just have to work the big, noisy machines. Then the driver guy tells me to look at my hand. It seems that some part in the machine now owns an eighth of an inch of the top of the end of my right pinky finger.
LBG, you are going to love this...
How did I know it was an eighth? Because I measured it...
Happy Trails, Phil.
Came home this evening, and LBG was waiting for me with the news. At the rate this week is going, I think I'll spare the evil gremlins making this week miserable and step in front of a bus. That or kick a kitten or a liberal...
Now, Clime isn't the one for manual labor. Clime is mostly noted for his significantly neat handwriting and his ability to operate a PC, a task most trained apes can't do. That said, when we were a little short handed out on the floor and the guys were swamped, I offered to take on the work on the Homag. Hey, this thing is as big as the third floor of LBG's and my house, runs multi-axis cutting of material, is automated and is noisy. Sooo, lets face it: Big machines are COOL, and I wanna run it. Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh?
So I've got a huge-ass plate of polycarbonate in the thing and am letting it run on an automated cut plan. This is something to remember. It is running on it's own... So it's jamming along and, on a pause, I reach in to square the material off. At the same time, one of the freight company drivers comes in and yells 'heya' to all my guys. I turn to wave at him using my free hand with a "look at me now!" kind of look. While doing this the retaining boom lowers on me. The one, instant, and completely lucid thought comes into my head:
"I am about to have my arm sawn off."
The next thought, and action is to shoot my free hand over to this plug on the boom that when yanked down shuts down the pneumatics to the boom and resets the computer so the cutting impliment cant continue running. Why do I know this? Because just yesterday I asked my acryllic fabber "Gee, what's that thing for?" Can an average man curl two hundred pounds with one arm? On a shitload of adrenaline, YOU BETCHYA.
So I'm throwing myself clear, on my knees like Indiana Jones shooting out of the temple in the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark only the golden statue is my right arm, and I look around to see one of my guys lying on his back on a table with his feet in the air laughing his ass off and the driver teary eyed with laughter too. That's what you get when you just have to work the big, noisy machines. Then the driver guy tells me to look at my hand. It seems that some part in the machine now owns an eighth of an inch of the top of the end of my right pinky finger.
LBG, you are going to love this...
How did I know it was an eighth? Because I measured it...
Happy Trails, Phil.
Came home this evening, and LBG was waiting for me with the news. At the rate this week is going, I think I'll spare the evil gremlins making this week miserable and step in front of a bus. That or kick a kitten or a liberal...
3 Comments:
I've got tears streaming down my face. i don't think i've laughed that hard in ages.
like you said, he's in a better place now. no pain, no suffering. ignore the busses and kittens. let's go fuck up some liberals. you've got friends and family here man.
I've got tears streaming now too. To get to the comments I had to read through the last part and I guess it finally hit.
After a day to go through it, I came to this: That thing would have severed the arm, but kept me pinned to it, allowing me to bleed out in a few minutes. This happened at about the same time as The Uncle gave it up, I came to learn later. Trading souls? I think so....
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