“Is bigger really better?” Is not a question a real man would ask himself!

It might be a question that a smart man would ask himself, but I’ve never been accused of being smart, so I never ask myself the question. Well, I guess I should say that I didn’t ask the question, “is bigger really better?” until it was too late. Here’s my story:

I Have a Dream

It all started when I met Steve and helped him load a gearbox for a 16-foot Samson windmill. As we dismantled a few components, Steve explained how much he enjoyed working on the big windmills. I’ve seen the photos of the 16-foot Samson that Steve restored and I imagined a big windmill on the hill behind our house. I knew a perfect spot for a big windmill.

The Seed is Planted

The next day, Steve and I stopped by Rocky’s on the way home. As the three of us examined Steve’s 16-foot gearbox, Rocky stated that he knew a guy who had a 16-foot Aermotor windmill that he was trying to sell. Rocky said the guy was having a hard time getting rid of the mill because it was, “just too big.”

Two against One

Well, you know how it is when three windmillers know of a good deal: someone is going to go home with a windmill. I was with two fine gentlemen, so I knew there wouldn’t be any hard feeling if one of us bid a little higher than the others. Normally, you might say there are going to be two losers and one winner, but in retrospect I think it was the other way around.

But I’m a Married Man

Steve quickly said that he would buy it, but he was sort of running out of room for the big stuff right now and he already had a 16-footer on the trailer. Rocky looked at the house just in time to see his lovely wife coming out the door. As she approached, he looked at me and said, “Kevin, that 16-footer has your name on it. It’s too good of a deal to pass up, but it’s just not a good time for me to buy it.” He was looking at me, but I was pretty sure he was talking to his wife.

The Best Advice I’ve Ever Gotten

There might be a disagreement over who said it, but truer words about windmilling have never been spoken. I think it was Kim, Rocky’s wife, who said it, but the more I think about it the more I think it was it was my own dear father speaking to me from heaven above.

Like a bell ringing the sound of an alarm on a quiet night, a voice of reason from somewhere said, “You’d better ask your wife before you bring home a 16-foot windmill.”

For once in my life, I listened to the voice of reason. To save my pride, I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no. Like true windmillers, Steve and Rocky backed my play. Rocky agreed to examine the windmill a little closer the following day. Steve commented that I had a long drive home and I better hit the road soon or I might get stuck in traffic.

The 16-footer could wait a day or two.

Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics

With my pride intact, I started on the six-hour drive home.

All the way home I worked on my plan to justify the “bigger is better” sales pitch I was planning to give my wife. Let’s see…let’s go for the statistical and scientific approach. YES, that will work, I said to myself. I’ll use the Jack Webb tactic. Just the facts, and she will be asking me why I didn’t bring the mill home with me.

Let’s see, I’ll pull over here, grab a soda and whip out a few facts from my trusty Aermotor book. (Yes, I keep a windmill notebook in my truck.)

I made the following notes:
“Aermotor Sixteen Foot” I wrote across the top of the page.
“Model 702”. “Newer Model” I wrote in bold.
“Designated Code F” Like in failure, I said to myself as I scratched the “F” off my notepad.
Cost New $9,780.00.
Stroke 14 7/8" & 11 3/8", “Lifting capacity of over 900 feet!”
“Stub tower included! Stub towers cost over $800.00 new.” I added an underline to this important item. A free stub tower, what a deal!

Oh yes, there is power in numbers! More statistics started pouring from the well worn pages of the Aermotor binder that I now ripped open and spread all over the dash.

“470 Gallons an hour with a three inch cylinder!” I pushed so hard on my pencil to emphasize that point that I broke the pencil. My goodness, a 16-footer could run a three-inch cylinder in a light breeze, I thought as I searched for a new pencil. “Surely there is another pencil somewhere in this truck.” I said, as I started chucking papers and Aermotor catalogs around the inside of my truck.

Good night nurse, she’ll pump 1,850 Gallons an hour with a six-inch cylinder on an 85-foot lift. “That’s a man’s mill,” I said out loud. As I let out a whistle, I noticed that a highway patrolman was sitting next to me. I wondered how long he’d been watching me dig through the stack of papers on my dash and talking to myself.

Here in California, surely he has seen crazy people before. Besides, he looked like he would appreciate the fact that a 16-foot Aermotor can lift 1,850 gallons an hour 85 feet! The officer sort of looked like Tim the Tool Man Taylor from TV.

“Always end with a h5 point,” I’ve been told. One more number was all I needed to present this amazingly powerful group of numbers to my wife. “What is my closing line?” I checked all my numbers, as I quickly cleaned up the mess on the dash. “Oh yes, here is a powerful number. Windmill weighs 2,380 pounds.”

That’s a Damn Lie

What! 2,380 pounds, that can’t be right. Quickly I dug out a second Aermotor tech paper and found a page entitled Aermotor windmill Specifications. Here we go, 2,380 must be a misprint from the newer catalog. I was sure this copy from an older specification paper would be correct. As I read down the column a sinking feeling started to hit me.

Model F 16-foot crated motor 1,180 pounds. That’s more like it I thought. “No wait!” I read on and there it was—16-foot Model F Complete Mill shipping weight 2,585 pounds. “No, it can’t be right. It was gaining weight!”

I quickly discounted the additional 200 pounds as pallet and crating. Let’s fall back to the original number of 2,380 pounds.

That did it! I didn’t care if the cop was watching me or not. I had to say that number out loud just to see if it sounded as bad when I said it as it did when I read it. Two Thousand Three Hundred Eighty pounds! Yep, saying it, writing it out in long hand, or writing it numerically, it still came out as more than most cars weigh.

Statistics and Mr. Barritti’s Math

Verification…yes, let’s verify that ugly number, I thought. Okay, stop. Think, stupid, we are using math here. So let’s fall back to the known constant: An eight-foot Aermotor is about 350 pounds. A sixteen-footer is twice as big, so why does it weigh so much more?

No, wait! We are talking about a circle. A flash of the face of my eighth grade math teacher zipped through my mind. Mr. Barritti was looking down at me and I heard him say, “Double a circle and you will get four times the area. Remember pi R squared.”

Yes, it’s a math trick. An eight-foot circle is about 50 square feet, but a 16-foot circle is a little over 200 square feet.

Reality Bears Its Ugly Face

My gosh, it’s true that monster tips the scales at 2,380 pounds. A 16-foot windmill is four times larger than an eight-footer, with a little added weight thrown in for the heck of it.

As I piled up my papers on the seat next to me, it started to rain. Great, I had to drive home in the rain. I visualized the traffic backing up on the Golden Gate Bridge and I was still 200 miles away.

My wife will never go for this deal. I’m dead. I’ll never talk her into this one.

The Highway Patrolman gave me the evil eye as we both headed out of the parking lot. He didn’t look quite so friendly anymore. I imagined he might like windmills, but he didn’t look like he would go for 2,380 pounds of windmill.

I’ve never been known to give up easily, and for the rest of the five-hour drive I worked over my battle plan.

Rules of War: Hit Quick and Hit Hard

When I got home, I was ready. Man, did I have a list. Generals have gone to war with simpler plans.

As soon as I jumped out of the truck, I laid the facts down to Cookie. I fired off with a quick warning shot to let her know I was in the mood to buy a big windmill: “This is one great deal and if I don’t grab it quick, someone else will.”

I looked Cookie right in the eyes and laid down the long list of facts, hardly stopping to take a breath. She looked hypnotized. I was on a roll. She just tipped her head and listened intently.

I closed with the classic husband line, “Well, what do you think?”

Cookie just picked up her ball and ran back into the doghouse. What do border collies know about windmills anyway?

I headed for the house.

It’s All over Now but the Shouting

After the unsuccessful hard sell trial on the dog, I went for a softer deal with my wife. I opened with the time-tested line, “I found a great deal, but I don’t know if we should get it.” I quietly added the fact that this was a large mill, “a 16-footer to be exact.”

Foul, You can’t Hit a Guy Like That!

My wife stopped me before I could finish the second sentence. She said, “Wow, isn’t that four times bigger than your 8 footer?” “I bet that weighs a ton,” she added. (I smiled and thought again of some good advice Mr. Barritti my old math teacher gave me. “Marry a smart woman, Mr. Moore. You’re going to need the help.”)

Before I could go on, she hit me with her secret weapon. As I sit and think the whole thing over now, I realize I never saw it coming. They say you never hear the bullet that hits you.

“Buy it if you want it,” she said, “it’s up to you.” I started in with how heavy it was and all my statistics and she raised her hand and repeated those killer words: “It’s up to you.”

Share the Guilt

When I went to bed that night, my head was spinning like a 16-foot Aermotor windmill in a hurricane. Should I tackle a 2,380-pound windmill?

What would you do if it were, “Up to You”?