My first boat had an old, 18hp Johnson and it was as reliable as day is long. However, on one trip I bumped a sand bar with the prop and heard a POP sound, immediately followed by a ringling sound of the prop free-wheeling over the output shaft. I shut it down and looked at the motor, but it looked fine so I started it and when I put it in drive, it engaged ok so I motored on back to the ramp forgetting about the entire thing.
Well, I wanted to go fishing one day and got it all hooked up and ready to go. I had a cooler of beverages chilling on ice, some bait, and all my gear stowed away. I made it all the way to the ramp, backed into the water, started it, and only then realized I must have broken the shear pin on my last trip because the prop was not turning at all. With a curse, I drove back home with the boat. I backed it in my garage and I was determined to fix the damn thing as I was not going to be denied an evening of quiet solitude fishing and enjoying the contents of my cooler. Actually, I had already begun to partake of the cooler contents and will partially blame that for my next move.
There is nothing open on a Sunday evening that would carry something as obscure as a shear pin for a 1965 18hp Johnson, so I knew I would have to improvise. I removed the prop and the broken piece of pin fell out. I held that in one hand as I rooted through my garage searching for something metal and straight of a similar diameter I could use. My hand rested on a brass colored hanging screw. Like something a normal person would use to hang a hummingbird feeder from. What I saw was a long, straight section that could be used. I cut the two ends off and cut it again to nest inside the groove. I installed the prop, gave it a cursory tug and it seemed to hold, drained the rest of my beverage and buried it in my garage trash can from the 3-point line. Feelin' GOOD!
I launch the boat and take off. It's a nice evening and perfect end to a long week. I make it pretty damn far away from where I put in before the pot metal hanging rod snaps and I'm dead in the water. I had a long time to contemplate the stupidity of what I had done in quiet solitude, as there was no one around. I trolled until the battery was about dead and finally I saw another boat working the shoreline, fishing. I went for my horn, but it emmitted a feeble croak with the dead battery. I then did the only thing someone can do to get the attention of someone - I danced around like a queer, hands over my head waving back and forth. They saw me alright, and can be excused for pausing before making the cautious decision to assist. I stopped jumping around and they were visibly happy I did. After a few words, they graciously offered to tow me back to the ramp. There was an older man in the boat who said little, but what he did say contained a profound truth - "son, just chalk this one under the category of Lake Sh*it".
Sir, yessir.
Well, I wanted to go fishing one day and got it all hooked up and ready to go. I had a cooler of beverages chilling on ice, some bait, and all my gear stowed away. I made it all the way to the ramp, backed into the water, started it, and only then realized I must have broken the shear pin on my last trip because the prop was not turning at all. With a curse, I drove back home with the boat. I backed it in my garage and I was determined to fix the damn thing as I was not going to be denied an evening of quiet solitude fishing and enjoying the contents of my cooler. Actually, I had already begun to partake of the cooler contents and will partially blame that for my next move.
There is nothing open on a Sunday evening that would carry something as obscure as a shear pin for a 1965 18hp Johnson, so I knew I would have to improvise. I removed the prop and the broken piece of pin fell out. I held that in one hand as I rooted through my garage searching for something metal and straight of a similar diameter I could use. My hand rested on a brass colored hanging screw. Like something a normal person would use to hang a hummingbird feeder from. What I saw was a long, straight section that could be used. I cut the two ends off and cut it again to nest inside the groove. I installed the prop, gave it a cursory tug and it seemed to hold, drained the rest of my beverage and buried it in my garage trash can from the 3-point line. Feelin' GOOD!
I launch the boat and take off. It's a nice evening and perfect end to a long week. I make it pretty damn far away from where I put in before the pot metal hanging rod snaps and I'm dead in the water. I had a long time to contemplate the stupidity of what I had done in quiet solitude, as there was no one around. I trolled until the battery was about dead and finally I saw another boat working the shoreline, fishing. I went for my horn, but it emmitted a feeble croak with the dead battery. I then did the only thing someone can do to get the attention of someone - I danced around like a queer, hands over my head waving back and forth. They saw me alright, and can be excused for pausing before making the cautious decision to assist. I stopped jumping around and they were visibly happy I did. After a few words, they graciously offered to tow me back to the ramp. There was an older man in the boat who said little, but what he did say contained a profound truth - "son, just chalk this one under the category of Lake Sh*it".
Sir, yessir.
