Respect the Yellow Line

I live in the Land of Curves and motor cycle people actually make trips to our neck of the woods to ride them. I've been told there are 39 curves in 13 miles back in these parts. I pondered that statement awhile and asked myself, "Ken ye site me jes one straight piece, I ask ye?" I'm trying to learn Appalachian. I love it here, but my yankeeness sticks out, can't seem to help it after all these years, still.

Anyways, coming around the curves back in these parts a body doesn't expect cross traffic. Doesn't happen. But, its Labor Day weekend, and the fun is in full progress. We have customers up at the best flea market. The place was packed and I found a tight little spot to park my Geo. Nobody shows you where to park, you just try to be sure they can still get around you.Then lock the doors and don't look back.

Well, the "hardware" man was very nice and I bought some pipes today, mostly the transitional pieces needed to get the thing married to the stove, through the window and headed skyward. I also found the stove "handle"  thingy you lift the lids off the stove top so you can feed it. That little lever cost  $5, well worth it.

So, traffic being what it was, even on the back roads, I'd meet cars and trucks, motorcycles and what more, just crossing the line every which way. Luckily I learn quickly and stayed well over to the edge in my lane. All is well. I take the path of the rabbit, maybe the fox, or even the wolf. But, by god I know I ain't the grizzly bear on the road, able to take on all comers and top of the food chain. I keep to my side and pay attention. Otherwise, how can I go find my stove pipes, spend money at Dairy Queen, and pick apples from a wonderful local grower?

Live, let live. If you wanna die, do it on your own time.

Whew, felt good to get that off my chest.

A Cast Iron Stove For $35

Saturday is not my normal town day. Its usually crowded and hard to find parking spots. I like a mid week town day when everything is open, getting in and out early before the school buses are running.

For some reason, I felt to go in yesterday. I had a package to mail before they closed at noon, and decided to see how the flea market was doing.

You may remember a post a couple weeks back where I was wanting a wood stove, and considering a "packer" style which is created for tents and hunting trips.

Much research showed me I didn't really want such light weight galvanized steal in my studio.

Anyways, I pull into the flea market parking lot, which sadly was pretty empty. The first booth I walk to had a cast iron wood stove. It was love at first sight. Sure, my darling had some flaws, but love is blind. I asked the price without slobbering Too much. I called my man at home and asked advice, considering some important pieces were missing.

After consultation, and some bargaining, the man gave me a discount, took the legs off and helped me loaded it in the trunk of my Geo.

Back home, I proudly put it back together, created the missing pieces from and old licence plate, and got the sliding door unjammed through hammer and oil persuasion.

The legs had biblical issues: they'd been laid up where moth and rust do decay. An extra nut on the end of each bolt and it is standing pretty sturdy.

Next town trip I'll pick up some stove caulking and decorative bricks to serve as a protective floor padding. There was an extra top lid for the stove laying inside it, I just set it below the stove on the floor to show it to you. It needs sanding and stove paint.

Now, just between us friends, the trail gods knew I would be second guessing my new love. I knew that like new cars and pregnancy, buying this little stove was just the beginning of my installation adventures.

On the way home, I stopped in an indoor flea market for fun. It too was sadly under whelmed with clientele. There, in one of the booths was the same stove I'd just bought, only the missing piece was there, and the bottom door slid perfectly. Asking price, $275.

Thank you trail gods. I can stop second guessing.