Resurrecting Victoria's Guts

As far as my CSM's go, Victoria's a fickle little hunk o' metal.  The wear on her cams caused me some concern, and my first impression was to grind everything down with the Dremel, put her together again, and not look back.

Remember Vickie's Guts?

I asked Eric for his input, as I am wont to do.  Eric's a stickler for perfection, which is why our living room floor is still in plywood (we're waiting for the trees to grow), so sometimes asking him for advice is like shooting one's self in the foot.  Being a sucker for punishment, I asked for his advice.

After some consultation, (I think he called a smelter or two, plus we have some doctorate-level metallurgists on speed-dial), he determined that the cams should be brazed and reshaped, and then hardened and tempered in an oil bath.  My plan for Dremel-ing everything down was vetoed.  No point in wearing metal down any further - it was there for a purpose - after all.

That's how I got to drive around with CSM parts on the passenger seat of my car, silently mocking me for a few months.

Thing is, we used to know a welder who is a master welder in the truest sense of the word; this guy gets flown around the country welding gnarly stuff that's deemed unrepairable.  He's not just a welder, he's an artisan.  Sadly, we lost touch with him a few years ago, because he was the only person I was willing to trust Vickie's guts to.

Finally, I decided to make the rounds locally.  Surely, with the amount of machine shops and tool-makers and welders in our area, there had to be someone capable of brazing some metal onto the cams and leading me one step closer to my goal.

One particular welding shop came highly recommended by several people, so I went and explained my problem to the shop owner, showed him the cams, and asked him to put his best guy on the job - money wasn't an issue, and there were no time constraints - I just wanted it done cleanly and professionally.

When I got the call the next morning saying the parts were ready, I had a strange twinge in the pit of my stomach.  I drove back to the machine shop, and my parts were waiting.  I inspected them, half expecting to hear the screeches of primates coming from the rear of the shop, because, hell, if I had a MIG welder, I coulda done a better job than the monkey that brazed Vickie's cams.

I swore under my breath, and the shop owner said, "It's not like painting, you know.  You don't control where the metal goes".  DOH, to quote the great philosopher Homer Simpson.  Goes without saying.  Then again, my reference is a guy who welds turbine blades, not exactly the same caliber as the Neanderthals at this shop.

Believe it or not, the above photo shows the BEST looking piece.  The others were butt-ugly.  I swear I'm too embarrassed to show them.

I left pissed.  I muttered something about a lack of  "pride in one's work", then I cursed Eric silently for his nit-picking attention to detail, and then I kicked myself some more for trusting this welder.  And then I flippantly threw the parts on the back seat of the car, and drove home fuming.

When I showed Eric the parts, his diatribe sounded like mine, but more vociferous:  Doesn't anyone give a shit anymore?  Does anyone really care?  What the hell ever happened to pride, or craftsmanship?  And where in the hell did Dan the welder go, that we can't find him anymore?

The thing I learned about metal is this:  too much is better than not enough, provided you've got time, patience, a good Dremel, plus a bench grinder.

All that to say, Victoria's gut are being painstakingly resurrected.  It took me a few months to muster the courage to remove the excess of the excess of the welded bead on the bench grinder, then laboriously grind the remaining excess back down to the cam's original shape with the Dremel, ensuring the integrity of the edges.

In the photo above, I'm not even close to done grinding down the brazed edge.  It takes a lot of time with the Dremel, but once I'm down to the original shape, I'll polish all the parts up with some compound and they'll look like new.  At least, that's the plan.  Maybe if you want to say a prayer or two for Ann and her cams, we'd appreciate that.

Along the way, I've learned a few things, (whether I wanted to or not).  The Dremel is my friend, and is not to be feared.  I should have been using it with a felt bit and some compound to clean all my other CSM's in retrospect.  Original Dremel bits kick ass, copy-cat Canadian Tire Mastercraft jobber bits, not so much.

I bought this kit at Canadian Tire, just 'cause it was 70% off.  I think I paid about $25 for it.  The wooden box alone is worth that - so I wasn't expecting superb quality -  I was mainly going for selection.  I started with the orange tips, and if you double-click, you can see how much I've worn down the last orange tip in the top row.  It started off the same shape as the other orange bit beside it.  The original Dremel bit I bought to replace this one has been used a lot, yet hardly shows wear.

(And the golf balls?  Well, apparently our neighbour's property is a red-neck driving range, and that's all Imma gonna say about that).

Pay the extra for the real Dremel bits - it's worth it.  Wear your safety glasses when using the Dremel, and no, don't expect your manicure to survive.  Read the damn manual, and you'll pick up a few tips.  Google is my friend, because I managed to find Dan-Dan the Welder-man again, bless his heart.  I trust Eric for his advice.  Isn't that what got me into this mess in the first place?  But super-heating Victoria's cams until they're glowing red and dropping them into oil?  Not on my shift.  Well...maybe if Dan says so I will, otherwise, it's a no-go.

So, I hope to have Victoria up and running soon, in better shape than ever.  Fingers crossed.

And I can rest peacefully at night, knowing Dan-Dan the Welder-man has been found.

Victoria's Guts

I've been threatening to take Miss Victoria apart and have her cams brazed and reshaped.  She runs a bit rough, and when I took her apart and cleaned her, I had to use a lot of self-control to not grind her innards down with my trusty Dremel right there and then.

Eric maintains I should have her guts brazed and then reshaped instead, and I am hoping that in repairing the wear to her parts, she'll run as good as new again.  The skeptic in me wonders if she'll wear down in the same manner again, or if she'll run like a finely-tuned machine?

Well, this morning, I dug out my trusty Teeny-Turner screwdriver (everyone should own one and bonus fact:  they're made in Canada!), and took ole' Vickie apart.

I also wonder what caused the wear?  Was it years of neglect?  Was it improper oiling?  Probably a combination of both, I'd guess.  She was a crusty gal when I got her, as evidenced in my first post when I brought her home and took her apart.  All that felt under her up-throw cams probably contributed to her uneven wear, and the fact her cylinders were jammed with broken needles and years of felt certainly didn't help, either.

Let's have a look, shall we?  (Click on any photo to enlarge for detail.  Click again and you can really see my sad excuse for cuticles.  It's gardening season, okay?)

Her up-throw cams are both unevenly worn.  It's so tempting to grind this down and buff the hell out of it...

The other cam shows the same kind of wear, but the point is worn down to a near-sharp point.

Here's a view of the other side.

Her V-cam shows uneven wear as well, so this will have to be remedied as well.

And yet another view of the wear.

So Vickie's guts now reside in a Ziploc bag.  If Eric gets the time this week, he'll run her innards over to our machinist, who's promised to take a look at the parts and let me know what can be done.

I am keeping my fingers crossed that with a bit more TLC, Miss Victoria will be new-and-improved before long.

...and we have RIBBING!

Yes, worthy of shout-out-loud capitals, we have RIBBING on the CSM.  I don't know why the thought of using the ribber struck fear in my heart, but the time was nigh to add this latest skill to my circular sock machine repertoire.

It's probably because every CSM forum features problems with the ribber as a main focus so much of the time that I was intimated by little bits of metal.  Shame on me.  It took me longer to find the dial adjuster lever that I had taken off and stored along with its screw in a Ziploc bag aptly tagged "Marie's Guts", which in turn was logically placed in a Rubbermaid bin where I store all the miscellaneous bits and bobs of my three machines.  Sometimes, I amaze even myself with my organization, (sigh), because it took me over an hour to find.  Then I misplaced the screw, and that must have taken me about another half-hour to locate...alas...a day in the life of...

I armed myself with my laptop, and for the umpteenth time, watched the YouTube video called Sock Machine Ribber Confidence.  I like Laurie's approach.  She's very cartesian in her logical, step-by-step explanations.  Thanks to Laurie and her video, I plunked my laptop beside my CSM, popped the ribber on, followed her steps, and behold!  We have ribbing:

I ran the tube off the CSM and put it in the kitchen for a show-and-tell when Eric returned.

And that's how my Anna Pepper came to be the best-dressed pepper mill in town.  Haute couture for your pepper mill - Alessandro Mendini would be proud.  Or maybe not, since I've turned his pepper mill into a Barbie?

So there's more ribbing in my future.  I still need to get a lot of the finer details down pat before attempting to make a sock like the original Auto-Knitter sock that came with Albert, my first CSM:

I'm sure I'm months from being able to crank one of these babies off the sock machine, but at least the first steps have been made.

Regia Hand-dye Effect Yarn Review

I picked up a few skeins of Regia Hand-Dye Effect yarn in Germany last year, and this week I finally sat down and cranked out a few pairs of socks.

All I can say is I wish my suitcase were larger, my wallet bigger, and my foresight better.

The yarn is lightly spun and plied with a thin, black thread I thought the CSM would not like.  Was I ever wrong.

This stuff went through the CSM like a hot knife through butter.  And the colours?

They are beyond beautiful.  This yarn is super-soft and fluffy on the skein, and when it's knit up, the fabric takes on a surprisingly coarse, almost scruffy feel.  I soaked the socks in Eucalan, dried them near the wood stove, and once dry, they soften up immensely.  The socks are very fluid and mold nicely to the foot.

Surprisingly, each skein weighed in at about 100g.  I started each sock with a 3:1 mock-rib on the 72 needle cylinder, knit 38 rows, replaced the missing needles and hung the purl bump from the neighbouring needle on each empty one to prevent the little hole that would result, and knit 2 rows before hanging my hem.  Then I knit 75 rows, turned my heel, knit 70 rows for the foot, and turned my toe.  I have about 4g of wool left from each skein, so I probably could have eked out a few more rows, but I don't live that dangerously...

Speaking of living dangerously, little Popina does:

Here she is in the kitchen, sitting serenely beneath Victoria whose innards are about to receive a bit of a tune-up.  I am going to have her cams brazed and reshaped, because she's a bit clunky.  Without needles, she's as smooth as can be, but once I have needles in and start to knit, she feels a bit...well...clunky.  I oiled her liberally, cranked out tube after tube, yet I don't feel she's at her best.  Since I took her apart, cleaned her, and put her back together again, I observed the uneven wear on her cams first-hand and think the extra work and expense will be worth the trouble.  So we'll be taking a trip to the machinist's workshop in the next few weeks, and I'll report back if my impressions are correct.

In the interim, I leave you with another view of Sockhenge:

Crankin' Time

Well, all I can say is this:  Planetary Alignment has occurred.  I have been crankin' (and crankin' and crankin') out so many socks that I have made a major dent in my sock yarn stash.  I am at the point of ordering more wool...a shocking thought!

Here's my first completed pair:

These are knitted with Lana Grossa Meilenweit in an unknown colourway.  They're not perfect, but I was pleased as punch to get these done!  

And my second:



I gave these Regia Design Line by Kaffe Fassett (rhymes with Safe Asset, says the man himself...) in colourway 4255 to my Dad for his 81st birthday.  To say he was pleased is an understatement.  He knows just how much I have been tinkering with my CSM's over the past 2 years.

These were both knit on Marie, outfitted with the 72-needle cylinder.

In the past 2 weeks I have churned out 10 pairs of socks.  Just as I had feared, it becomes somewhat obsessive, and I can think of little more than sitting at the CSM and cranking away.

My third CSM, Victoria, is currently outfitted with the 54-needle cylinder is still attached to the kitchen counter.  I need to get this baby fine-tuned, but it's hard with the 72-needle cylinder getting so much love these days.  I still have some issues with the fact the cams are well-worn on Victoria, and keep toying with the ideas of having them brazed rather than ground smooth.  I'm still not sure which route to take.

I'm also not thrilled with the Legaré yarn topper and it's somewhat ridiculous yarn mast spring.  The Auto Knitter is superior, in my opinion, and I'd love to find a few and put them on each machine.

I also found a great tutorial on the Circular Sock Machine Forum on Ravelry on purl-side kitchenering.  I can't tell you just how much easier it is than knit-side kitchenering.  Give it a try!

The Happy Cranker

My CSM ramblings have been mighty sporadic.  2011 will be THE year that I crank out a pair of socks!  The time has come to put these babies to use!

I finally went out and bought a proper stand for my CSM.  Taking a page from The Soxophone Player's blog, I went to our local Canadian Tire and bought myself a grinder stand.  Like pretty much anything tool- or shop-related at Canadian Tire, if you wait 6 weeks, you're bound to get what you want at 50% off.  The price was right, and the grinder stand makes for a nice, sturdy base on which to mount my CSM, without taking up the same footprint as the ubiquitous Black and Decker work-bench.  With our on-going renovations upstairs, the logical place to put my CSM was under the stair, so I needed something compact.

I put away my most recent acquisition, Victoria, and pulled out good ole' Marie, both Legaré 400 models.  Both machines are nearly identical, but Victoria had been driven much harder than Marie, so I wanted to have her cams brazed and reshaped, but simply haven't gotten around to it yet.  I put Marie on the stand, and using Albert's Auto Knitter yarn mast which has a much nicer heel-uptake spring, I am up and running.

I ordered new heel forks, something I procrastinated about, because I had the good intention of making my own.  The fact that we have a drill press smack in the middle of the living room would motivate me to this extent.  In the end, I couldn't be bothered, so I contacted a heel-fork maker in the States and had her send me two pairs.  The old heel forks that came with the machine are in a V-shape, and have nasty little hooks on the end that of course grab the knitted tube ferociously.  At some point during my heel-making frenzy, I bumped my knee on the heel fork's weight, and down came the fork, weight and all.  Unfortunately, I also had my hand under the machine at this precise second, and managed to impale my palm with said heel fork.  Thankfully, I only nicked myself, but this incident served to expedite my ordering of new heel forks.

I also ordered a new yarn carrier that I am hoping will simplify things even more.  The face of both my Legaré yarn carriers are very worn.  Unlike the Auto Knitter, whose yarn carrier can be adjusted up and down, as well as in and out, the Legaré yarn carrier can only go up and down.  On Victoria, the yarn carrier had already been shimmed (there's that word again!) out with a piece of folded-up tin-foil.  On Marie, it was shimmed out with a washer.  The faces of these yarn carriers are deeply gouged from striking the needles and latches, and my hope is that the new yarn carrier will be a bit more needle-friendly.

Thanks to Sarahspin's wonderful YouTube video, I have completed heel after heel after lovely heel.  I might be personally responsible for 1,000 or so views on this video.  Her "one up, two down" narrative has been repeated so often, I'm sure I'm saying it in my sleep.  Another detail that aided my heel progress was...wait for it...marking my cylinders!  Whodathunk such a simple thing could prove to be so beneficial?  I don't know what kept me from pulling out some nail polish and making a few marks earlier, and it seems stupid to state the obvious, but really...what was I waiting for?  Someone, smack me upside of the head, please.

The above kludge-to-end-all-kludges came about since I was having yarn tension issues.  I had wound a wonderful centre-pull ball, as many advise, yet with the older Legaré yarn mast, the heel uptake spring was giving me fits.  When I used my paint roller/broom handle contraption, I had a more consistent feed, which worked better with the Legaré yarn mast.  I also could have cut a perfectly good broom handle, but why waste something like that on a kludge?  When I changed to the Auto Knitter yarn mast, I kept the above contraption in place.  The magnet around which I wound the elastic comes courtesy of Lee Valley, it's a stand-off magnetic tool holder that I stole borrowed from Eric's drill press.  Sometimes you just gotta make-do.  This was one of those times.

When I get the new yarn carrier, I'll go back to my centre pull ball, although I like the ease of feed I get from the paint roller.  I might find a way to incorporate that into the design modifications I have in mind for my stand.  Ideally, I'd like to make a solid wood top, with a semi-circle cut out that would permit the CSM to be recessed a bit.  This would decrease the leverage of the CSM on the stand, because I do find the current stand a bit tippy, if say, a cat decided to play with a tube-in-progress, (something that could realistically happen in this house).  If the stand had 4 legs instead of 3, I'd be more comfortable, and short of bolting it into the floor (that's how it's intended to be used with a grinder), I'll have to make do for now.  I have visions of a wooden top that would incorporate several recessed rare-earth magnets around the edges that could hold all my tools easily at hand, as well as accommodate a more user-friendly lamp.  I have a couple of modifications that I am ruminating, but I'd like to be a bit more proficient in CSM-ese before having a new top custom-made.

It seems like I am stating the obvious here, as no self-respecting office worker should sit on anything but the best of chairs, so should no cranker sit for any extended period of time on, say, a wooden bar stool while cranking. This is exactly how you could find me, hunched over my CSM, for hours on end.  Eric looked at me as I stood up and massaged my aching sciatic nerve, and suggested I might want to borrow his drafting chair.  Brilliant suggestion, my dear!  One does tend to get caught up in the throes of the CSM, and not realize just how unergonomic the experience can be.

So, stay tuned for another episode of "How the Sock Turns", right here at Shim Farm Central.

Victoria is Up and Knitting

Cleaning Miss Victoria was a long haul. Somehow my planets never lined up properly, because there never seemed to be enough time to sit down and clean her well enough and put her back together again. Vicky's innards sat on a cookie sheet on the kitchen counter for much longer than was necessary.

I tackled the cylinders first, removing broken off jammed needles:

When that was done, I took the machine apart completely. This is how she looked before:
And when I took everything apart, a few things stumped me:

Her tension cams are really worn down. I couldn't decide if I wanted to take the Dremel to them or not.

Observe during cleaning:

The up-throw cams (there are two: a left and a right) were probably never cleaned in the life of the machine. The wear is a good sign, it means she was worked, and worked hard, but I still had to wonder if I should gently grind down this wear.

This is the felt that formed at the bottom of the cams I am holding above:

And yet another shot:

Miss Vicky was a crusty old gal, and she really put me through the paces. I worked on each piece until I was satisfied. Soaking this machine was not enough; I really had to take each piece one at a time and sand with 600 grit wet-sandpaper and WD-40 until each piece was clean:

I used an old kitchen paring knife and gently scraped the hardened grease off. No amount of soaking helped loosen the dirt which literally flaked off when I scraped it with the knife.

But once Victoria was put back together again, we had success:

I had her together and a tube knit in about 15 minutes! We have lift off!

I simply let the worn-down cams be; if they need grinding down, there is always later for that. For now, she's back together and the opportunity to take her apart again will no doubt present itself.

Now I just hope to find the time to move beyond tubes. I am keeping my fingers crossed that once our renovations upstairs are finished, I will get the chance to actually make a pair of matching socks. If not, there is always the Circular Sock Machine Society of America's annual meeting which will be held in Laconia, NH in 2010. What's another few months in the general scheme of things?

Oh...and I forgot to mention...

...that we went on another road trip, and you know what that means, don't you?

It means that Ann, AKA She-who-walks-with-horseshoe-firmly-planted-up-posterior, found another, YES, another circular sock machine, or CSM for those in the know.

Drum roll please!

Albert and Marie, meet your new friend Victoria:

A close up of the crud, and I truly mean CRUD:

This machine is going to need major elbow grease to bring back its original shine. It's already in pieces, liberally sprayed with WD-40, each piece beckoning me one-by-one.


I wish I knew more about this machine. I haven't found a serial number, but from what I can tell, I think it is a Legare 47, probably one of their earlier machines.

Do you think it's time I actually cranked out a pair of socks?

Yeah, me too!

Once our renovations are over, and we have finished the slate patio, completed rebuilding the fence, and done a multitude of other outdoor chores, I hope to have some spare time to crank to my heart's content!

Introducing Mrs. Cranky

I must have a horse shoe firmly planted up my posterior.

The other day, as we were wielding crowbars and reciprocating saws, the phone rang. I heard Eric answer, and pass the phone to me, giving me one of those I-have-no-clue-who-it-is grimace through his safety glasses, hearing protector and mask.

Weeks ago, as I was dealing with Mr. Cranky's owner in Alberta, not quite convinced if he would send the machine to me or just stiff me for my money, I called around to find another CSM in case the deal fell through.

Well.

On Thursday, like manna from heaven, that phone call came. I had totally forgotten I had even made a few phone calls, since I had Mr. Cranky, now re-named Albert, in my possession. The person on the other end said he had a Legare for sale, and the asking price was so laughingly low, I think he could have taken it to a scrap metal dealer and gotten more money for it.

This is how we ended up taking a road trip on Saturday.

I had no clue what to expect; I kept my hopes down, expecting to find a rusting heap of metal, yet I still had a knot of anticipation in my stomach, a faint flicker of hope that this would be my dream machine.

When the seller took the box down from his storage area and placed it on the floor in front of Eric and me, I played it cool and calm. We picked up the CSM, a Legare 400, complete with 2 cylinders and a ribber, everything crusty with years of dirt and oil, and looked at each other, eyebrows raised, giving each other that "holy-crap" vibe through telepathy.

"This'll do", I said and handed over my money. I felt like I was committing armed robbery with the bank's supplied gun.

I had to restrain myself from taking the box, running to the car, and gunning it all the way home to inspect my booty.

The machine belonged to the seller's mother-in-law. She is long-gone, but I believe the machine served her well. It was well-used, well stored, and all the accessories in good order.

The machine is dirty - have no doubts about this - however, I went through the paces with Cranky, so cleaning Marie is going to be a cake walk.

Albert, meet Marie:


The CSM came complete with it's original wooden crate, and the following accessories:

A 36-needle ribber.

A 72-needle cylinder and a 54-needle cylinder (cleaned this morning).

The yarn-stand top.

The yarn-stand mast.

Weights and bobbins.

From top to bottom: pick-up tool, single heel hook and double heel hook.

I feel so lucky I should probably buy a lottery ticket, but I think I won the jack-pot already.

I made a (terrible!) heel!

No, I haven't fallen of the CSM band-wagon, quite au contraire, I have been messing, and playing, and tuning, and reading, (and breathing and sleeping) CSM related thoughts and otherwise in my spare time. This little machine has me firmly in its clutches, and will not let go!

The first tube I showed in my earlier post was borne from sheer beginner's luck. A few days later, as I sat down to thread the machine and try and knit another tube, I must have re-threaded and started to cast on at least 20 times. I was using the set-up basket, and although it is fussy, by the 20th time, I was a pro at threading it. One (or twice...) I threaded up the basket but forgot to thread it through the yarn carrier. One (or twice...) I threaded up the basket, but my tail was too short. Basically, every thing that could go wrong, did go wrong. But that's part of the process, and learn I did.

I was also using left-overs from my stash that I wound on the wooden bobbin. Partly out of desperation, I decided they were cramping my style. My frugal nature didn't want me to use "good" wool for this exercise, but I finally sacrificed a 100 g ball of Schoeller + Stahl Fortissima Socka. This change in wool bore fruition, and I managed to knit a tube with 1) horrible tension, 2) much swearing (Eric just shook his head and said: give it up for tonight, will you?) and 3) many dropped stitches, however, I forged ahead, and behold, the Franken-tube emerged:

Yesterday morning, during a lull in our renovation work, I sat down with Donna Peters' Sock Knitting Machine 101 book, and managed (albeit in a horrible fashion), to turn a heel. If you have ever hand-knit an hour-glass heel (à la Twisted Sisters Sock Workbook) , you will catch on readily to the concept, but if you knit conventional heels with a flap, your first attempt might leave you scratching your head.

If you think this side of the heel looks like a dog's breakfast...well...I'm not going to show you the other side then, because it is a mish-mash of dropped stitches, but they didn't stop me...I...must...keep...cranking!

If you are wondering WHY there is a knot in my tube, well, it's because the Howarnator was playing with the weights, and also, I admit the tube is grotesquely long. It was a practical measure.

From my second attempt at knitting a tube, to my first attempt at turning a heel, several things became glaringly obvious:

1) I really need to buy a ball winder.
2) I feel bad about pseudo-ruining an entire skein of Schoeller + Stahl, but the sacrifice to the CSM Gods was necessary. I guess this yarn will become my waste yarn for years to come. At least I like the colour.
3) I must purchase (or make...HELLO?...there is a drill press in my living room!) a set of heel forks with weights, because using the heel hook that originally came with the machine does not cut it.
4) I should knit a sock bonnet to facilitate setting up the machine.

Those are my CSM musings for now. I have a steep learning curve ahead, but I also think I am heading in the right direction!

Cranky Works!

Well. I can hardly believe it. Cranky is all clean and happy, clamped to the kitchen island as a temporary measure. Observe:

Here's another photo of Cranky and some of his accoutrements:

I have a spare 80 needle cylinder, still in its original wrapping, a buckle and weights to weigh down the work-in-progress, 2 wooden bobbins for winding the wool on, and a very tedious, fussy set-up tool used to start the knitting that resembles umbrella guts.

Happily enough, the needles were lying in the mailbox this morning. This evening, I decided to knit a tube.

Here's my first attempt:

If you look closely, there are a few stitches in that piece, or should I say pieces? It didn't take me long to call it a loss and cut the work off the set-up tool. I think I kept the set-up tool too high in the cylinder, and in my excitement, I forgot to hook the weights on the bottom of the set up tool, which resulted in the knitting working its way up the cylinder and dropping, err, almost every stitch. So, scratch that off the record. It's only a bit of left-over wool, and my patience pit hasn't run dry yet, so I gave it another shot.

Success:


I actually managed to knit a tube, and if I can say so myself, the tension isn't half bad!

If the wool hadn't run out, the tube might have ended up...like...miles long! There is something completely meditative in the degree of concentration it took, and the output it gave. I could have cranked, and cranked, and cranked...

I have a new appreciation how this hobby can become addictive. Very addictive.

Today, a tube, tomorrow...a heel?

Cleaning Mr. Cranky

Mr. Cranky's ribber attachment arrived in a separate parcel on Christmas Eve. Perfect timing, since I was morose that Eric had to work, and to add insult to injury, a crappy cold kept me from socializing to my heart's content. So, I threw a couple of sausage rolls into the oven, poured myself a glass of ginger ale (my Christmas treat - no pop allowed in this house otherwise), and donned my rubber gloves.

The ribber unit is complex, so I decided to cut my CSM teeth by cleaning it first. My resounding attitude: I might as well get the worst over with first. CSM boards advise cleaning the machines with mineral spirits or Marvel Mystery Oil, but my conscience won't let me purchase consumer products marketed with the word "mystery". As for the mineral spirits - where are they supposed to go but down the drain? Thanks but no thanks, our sceptic flora might not like that too much. It's also the middle of winter, and the windows in the kitchen are frozen shut. Using mineral spirits in an un-aired environment is a migraine guarantee. Again, thanks, but I'll pass.

I recently bought a citrus-based cleaner called Citra-Solv, a powerful degreaser that is sceptic-tank friendly to boot, so I figured I had nothing to lose by trying it. (And what this product does for stainless steel appliances cannot be described and must be experienced first-hand. If I won the lottery tomorrow, the first thing I would do is rip out our stainless cooktop and put it at the road with a sign that says: TAKE ME, PLEASE!)

Armed with the Auto Knitter manual I downloaded in PDF format from Angora Valley's website, and Yellow River Station's CSM Cleaning Instructions, I was ready to rock and roll.

My first step was to take the ribber apart. No problems there, save for removing the switch pin (part H-8 in the parts list). I was a bit stumped. I grabbed the micrometer, and took some measurements. Hmm. The switch pin is not tapered, which was my initial suspicion. That meant I could remove it from either end, but it would not budge. Finally, I oiled it, waited a bit, mulled over my options, and grabbed a motivator. That's a Shim Farm code-word for hammer.

Yeah. A hammer.

I gently tapped the pin, shielding it with a shim until I had success! (We keep shims lying around all over the house, they keep all sorts of stuff from squeaking, falling over, opening up, really, if you lived in a house as crooked as ours, you'd understand the usefulness).

The underside of the tappet plate looks like this:


I can't go into details about how it works; I understand the fundamental rudiments, however, even with the manual in one hand, the ribber in the other, without the needles in work, I'd be scratching my head if I had a free hand. I am sure once I get my needles it will make sense, but for now, my main concern was to clean it, not analyze its engineering.

During this exercise, I discovered I had a part missing, namely the driving pin, (part H-3). We keep a machinist on speed-dial (no joking!) so this is not a problem. In a pinch, a 1/4" Allen key can be used.

I buffed all parts. I took some 600-grit wet sandpaper and gave all stainless parts a gentle cleaning. This removed any rust spots, and with a liberal coating of oil and proper storage, rust formation will be inhibited. Any parts that had original finish on them were treated with Citra-Solv, maintaining the integrity of the enamel. The enamel is surprisingly tough; all I needed was to dip an old toothbrush into the solvent and scrub away. Good as new.

I dried all parts, oiled everything liberally, and reassembled the whole shebang.

This is what the ribber looks like now:


And another view from the side:


The ribber is mighty purty, if I may say so myself...

I ordered new needles for both the ribber and CSM from Angora Valley's site above. They were mailed out on December 22, however, between Canada Post and Canada Customs duking it out to see who can give us the crappiest service, it might take a while for the shipment to get here. The needles are the proverbial missing link I need to try out the unit and tweak it before I actually get to knit something.

I can hardly wait!