bottlebugs
Well-Known Member
When I found my first soda bottle, it soon became obvious that they were harder to find than I had suspected. Nobody I knew collected bottles. Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree. I soon turned my gaze to old sealer jars. Everyone I knew had them tucked away in their cellars and sheds. Nobody used them anymore. They were ripe for the picking. I decided to start in my own basement. There were jars everywhere! Dad's workshop was littered with half full jars holding nuts and bolts and bits of wire. There were pictures of beavers and beehives and that Mason guy again. I emptied one of the beavers onto the work table and proceeded to wash it out.
Dad's basement was a dangerous place at times. He had decided to build his own arc welder. A scrap copper coil was jerry rigged into the dryer outlet in the laundry room. A spark plug sat nearby hanging out of an old distributer cap. Dad was a mechanic but didn't feel the need to waste money on good tools. Everything was broken or worn out by the time I needed them.
My twin rushed past me and grabbed the newly washed sealer from my hands. It was apparently just what he was looking for. He reappeared a few short minutes later, smoking a cigarette and grinning at the poor fly he had trapped in the jar. He slipped the anode and the cathode of the homemade welder into the jar with the unsuspecting fly, puffed smoke inside and flipped the switch!
The spark light up the basement! The fly was burnt to a crisp. Pleased with his experiment, he darted from the room leaving me with a jar to clean again. I put the more dangerous parts away, re-cleaned the jar and filled it with sea shells. I still have it. And no others.
Dad was soon seen out shopping for a store bought arc welder. Mom witnessed him emerging from the basement looking rather sheepish after all the lights had browned out. He lay down on the couch rubbing his eyes and moaning. "I think I'll take a little nap, Honey!"
Dad's basement was a dangerous place at times. He had decided to build his own arc welder. A scrap copper coil was jerry rigged into the dryer outlet in the laundry room. A spark plug sat nearby hanging out of an old distributer cap. Dad was a mechanic but didn't feel the need to waste money on good tools. Everything was broken or worn out by the time I needed them.
My twin rushed past me and grabbed the newly washed sealer from my hands. It was apparently just what he was looking for. He reappeared a few short minutes later, smoking a cigarette and grinning at the poor fly he had trapped in the jar. He slipped the anode and the cathode of the homemade welder into the jar with the unsuspecting fly, puffed smoke inside and flipped the switch!
The spark light up the basement! The fly was burnt to a crisp. Pleased with his experiment, he darted from the room leaving me with a jar to clean again. I put the more dangerous parts away, re-cleaned the jar and filled it with sea shells. I still have it. And no others.
Dad was soon seen out shopping for a store bought arc welder. Mom witnessed him emerging from the basement looking rather sheepish after all the lights had browned out. He lay down on the couch rubbing his eyes and moaning. "I think I'll take a little nap, Honey!"
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