Attention to Maintenance
Evidently what I saw sloshing around was gas in the reserve tank which I had never turned on. I didn’t check it carefully because I assumed the rain had caused the engine failure. I didn’t understand then how foolish quick assumptions like that are. Now we are on a twenty-eight-horse machine and I take the maintenance of it very seriously ...
... And it occurred to me there is no manual that deals with the real business of motorcycle maintenance, the most important aspect of all. Caring about what you are doing is considered either unimportant or taken for granted.
Excerpt from: "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values" by Robert M. Pirsig
I'm about 50 pages into Zen, and Persig begins to touch on the importance of maintenance. More so, he is concerned with recognizing the importance of being aware and present in the act of maintaining.
Whenever I take on a large project or commit to ongoing care of a major asset, such as a car, house or boat, I vow to not cut corners and to keep up on all routine care. I expect to find pride and importance in all aspects, not matter how small or mundane. This is largely a fantasy, I realize.
Regardless of how passionate I am about a project, I know there will be times I get frustrated, impatient, and just want to be done with something. I end up trying to fit a longer task into a short window of opportunity. I look to the end with anticipation, and forget the importance of the task at hand.
Just as I was at this point in the book, I was working on my 1975 Slickcraft 235 boat project – more on that in a future post. To make use of materials on hand, I needed to combine two sections of plywood to form a single, longer length. I knew the right way to do this, but knowing it would be used for the backing of a seat bolster and wouldn't be of significant structural importance, I cut a corner. I simply butted up the pieces and used epoxy and a couple strips of fiberglass.
It seemed to work OK, and I moved on to sanding down the now-lengthened board. In doing so, I dropped the board and the fiberglass reinforcements broke right at the seam on both sides. Back to the drawing board.
Now, it was time to do it the right way. I "scarfed" the edges of the plywood. This involves sanding in two opposing "ramps" at the connecting point of the boards, creating greater overlapping surface area for a thickened adhesive, and again sandwiching the seam in epoxy-wetted fiberglass.
I thought I was saving time and that my initial attempt would be good enough. Turns out, had I done it correctly the first time, I would have saved time and grief.
A project like this involves so many overlooked steps, which end up being the most important. Where painting is required, the most difficult and time consuming part is the preparation: cleaning, repairing, sanding, filling, sanding and more sanding! Only with great care and attention will the eventual paint job turn out well.
I envision myself finding zen in sanding, as an example, but it can be very hard. It's a work in progress. But there will never be a shortage of seemingly-unimportant, mundane tasks in our lives. Ones that we do not recognize as critical to keeping us on the road. So I will have plenty of opportunity for practice.