gene, give it up and go back to study hall.

On 19 Jun 2004 23:02:51 GMT, (JAXAshby) wrote:

sorry, gene, you are only partly right. yes, that is a propeller, but no it
does not scrub the oil off.

So, what does the scraper ring scrape? Where does the replenishing
oil come from and how long does it take to get there?

you pull the prop through many times

*that*, I'd like to see....

(or crank
over with the mags turned off) to bring the oil pressure up to pressure to
lube
the bearings before startup.



While you are trying to build pressure up in the oil system, how are
all of those portions of the engine that are splash lubed getting oil?
There are Lycoming engines that receive NO oil to the cam, the gears,
valve train, or cylinders unless there is splash lubrication. While
you are concentrating on the main bearings, everything else is running
dry.

you pull the prop through many times

*that*, I'd like to see....


a little weak in the arm, are you gene? or are you just suggesting you like to
see a man's arm involved in doing something useful?

the world's expert on torque convertor marine transmissions and the engine oils
used in such:

http://groups.google.com/groups?q=%2...n&lr=&ie=UTF-8
&selm=6d79lt4gtn64l7elkiklme3vhdktvg75f9%404ax.com &rnum=2

so, how come you didn't know what a propeller is?


gene, give it up and go back to study hall.


Jax,

I'm a certificated aircraft mechanic and factory trained by Lycoming
and Continental. I touch these engines every day so I know pretty much
what they look like. However, I won't continue to upset you by
offering FACTS that contradict that comfortable little JaxWorld you
live in.

a little weak in the arm, are you gene?

I'm a certificated aircraft mechanic and factory trained

a high school buddy of mine had one of those licenses before his 19th birthday.
How many years did it take you to get yours?

It seems oil was not covered in the class you took.

JAXAshby wrote the most incredible garbage that proves he is nothing but
an ignorant wannabe and is not worth repeating:

Where do you get this stuff, Jax? It never ceases to amaze me how
consistently stupid you are about this sort of thing. Do you really
believe what you write or are you just so lonely and perverted that any
attention at all keeps you alive?

Jaxworld is truly a bizarre place ... One can only wonder how you find
your way out at all.

Just to keep on topic, and twist the knife in your empty brain pan: I
used to fly between a couple of engines on which the start sequence
included opening an air snifter valve in order to - prevent - lube oil
from being pumped to the bearings.

Google that one and get back to us with your version. It will be
interesting, I am sure.


Rick

On Sunday 20 June 2004 2:44 pm in rec.boats.cruising Rick wrote:

Jaxworld is truly a bizarre place ... One can only wonder how you find
your way out at all.

Just plonk the troll into your killfile, he only does it to get attention.

Just to keep on topic, and twist the knife in your empty brain pan: I
used to fly between a couple of engines on which the start sequence
included opening an air snifter valve in order to - prevent - lube oil
from being pumped to the bearings.

And count 5 blades before hitting the mags.....

--
My real address is crn (at) netunix (dot) com
WARNING all messages containing attachments or html will be silently
deleted. Send only plain text.

On Sun, 20 Jun 2004 13:44:08 GMT, something compelled Rick
, to say:

Jaxworld is truly a bizarre place

Jaxworld is a poorly lighted downstairs room in a seedy tract
house located in a dead end rust belt town. The kind of town
where young people with a clue abandon as quickly as possible,
leaving it to retired folk on pensions, the few that find gainful
employment providing goods and services to those retirees, and
dope smoking losers without enough ambition to take the minor
steps required to improve their lives.

Jaxworld has as its primary citizen, a fat goggle glassed
scraggle beard vaguely odoriferous male in his late twenties.
He's working at the same Shell station he started working in the
summer of his junior year, and has been promoted all the way to
night manager. This means he's in charge of washing the floors
and rest rooms, refilling the windshield cleaner buckets, and
scheduling the odd oil change or lube job for the next day when
the mechanic will be in. He has asked to *be* the mechanic, but
his constant arguing with the customers has made it clear that
it's better for them and for him to be placed as far from them as
possible. His title as manager is the default for what is
actually 'the only guy who's here at night, because there isn't
enough business to keep two people on'.

At eleven he closes up, balances the numbers on the pump with the
credit card receipts and cash, and stuffs it all into the slot in
the barrel safe for which he has no key, for the owner to review
the next morning. He stops by the late night diner to get a
double cheeseburger with bacon and a plate of greasy fries, the
same meal he has every night. The wait staff is generally polite
to him, except for the slightly overweight, mildly retarded
seventeen year old girl he obsessed over for a couple of months,
until her father stopped by the station one night with his
shotgun in the back window. Told him those things were always
going off by accident, and wouldn't it be a shame if it was
pointed at him when that happened? And that leaving his daughter
alone would be a good way to avoid an accident.

Jax makes it a point to not speak with the girl any more, but
that doesn't stop him from including her in his masturbatory
fantasies, along with the girls on the oil company calendars his
boss puts up in the employee washroom.

Jax pays for his meal, leaving a niggardly tip, and makes his way
home to his rented room. He was happy living in his parent's
house until at twenty three his father told him, yelled to him,
"Get the hell out and make something of yourself, boy!" as his
mother silently wept in the kitchen. She knew that he had to get
out, but she also knew that he was ill equipped for the real
world.

He boots his eMachine with the fifteen inch monitor he salvaged
from the high school scrap heap, s******ing to himself about how
they were so stupid to throw out a perfectly good piece of
equipment. So what if the red gun is dead? Windows95 finally
starts, the Pentium 133 processor making maximum use of all
thirty two megabytes of ram. The 14.4 modem wails its mating
call to the modem bank at his ISP, the newsreader takes its place
in RAM, and Jax is transformed from the fat greasy ****** he is
in real life to the highly educated, erudite, knowledgable being
he plays on usenet.

Unfortunately for him, much like the guy in the white jacket in
the aspirin commercials who states that he isn't a doctor but
plays one on TV, Jax can't completely fill out his usenet
character. His performance falls flat, and he has as much
success as he's had with the seventeen year old, or in fact any
other part of his life.

There it is. Jaxworld. Take off your hat and jacket, pull up a
chair, pop open a Pabst and set awhile.

If you have the stomach for it.

I
used to fly between a couple of engines on which the start sequence
included opening an air snifter valve in order to - prevent - lube oil
from being pumped to the bearings.

sure you did. that damned oil is such a bad thing for bearings. nobody who is
anybody puts oil in an engine.