View allAll Photos Tagged Maintenance
Amtrak GP38-3 720 rests at Wilmington, still wearing Amtrak's grey livery. Originally a Clinchfield GP38, this engine is a world away from the Appalachian coal fields for which it was built. (Taken on railroad property during a guided tour.)
A "snake bird" or anhinga stretches out its wings to dry on the shores of the Venice Rookery, in Venice, Florida.
(21 March, 2020)
Ballast Regulator DR77327 at Hereford, working 7Z09 Craven Arms Up Sidings - Hereford.
A very strange contraption indeed!
67024 has become the first in class to receive updated LED headlight clusters, seen here at the Chester end of Crewe electric on 9th January 2025. 92037 'Sullivan', 67009 and 67028 are also visible
50008 'Thunderer' passes Copmanthorpe en ruoute to York South yard, conveying a Robel maintenance vehicle from Hitchin Up yard, 6Z50
DB Cargo Class 67 "Skip" locomotive 67005 "Queens Messenger" and 66019
0Z67 11.03 Toton Traction Maintenance Depot to Crewe Electric Traction Maintenance Depot
North Stafford Junction, Derbyshire
I am not sure what this is used for.
Asahi Pentax K1000SE with Pentax-A 50mm f/ 1.4 on Portra 400.
South Korea
Royal Mail Class 325 EMUs 325005, 325001 and 325002
5A91 10.05 Crewe Electric Traction Maintenance Depot to Willesden Princess Royal Distribution Centre
Bescot Junction, Walsall, West Midlands
Weekly lubrication and maintenance of my mech horse.
Mesh Head : Lelutka Kaya
Mesh Body : Maitreya 5.3
Skin : Session Jada T05
helmet : Butanik 83
boiler suit : Repairgirl
Shoes : Repairgirl
Tool belt : [NC] Toolbelt Brown
Mech Horse : Teegle Aurum Mech Horse
via Artificial Pitch Maintenance ift.tt/1Qtyx0T
4G Astroturf Maintenance in Banbridge #4G #Astroturf #Maintenance #Banbridge
Photowalk, 8/30/2019, Woodside, NY
Leica Camera AG M Monochrom
7Artisans 50mm f/1.1
ƒ/11.0 50.0 mm 1/60 320
Goosanders in eclipse plumage, and almost certainly flightless, having a bit of a wash and brush-up on the River Esk at Musselburgh
Last evening I loaded two beds onto the Hilux. My beds are overdue for their routine maintenance. It's a cliche about how far we drive to get to the mailbox, and how distance is measured in the number of cans of beer consumed between departure and destination. Preposterous! One must never drink and drive! One might spill some. It will be a reasonable day out — from quirky little pony studs, past places with names like prickle farm to proper jobs where the adjective describes a station. I'm headed for big sky country.
If I call up for a service technician or asked for a delivery, there is usually a momentary silence, then a polite question: "You live where?" The inevitable click is followed by the dial tone. It's not happening. So I fix it myself, or take it to someone who cares.
When I say my beds are due some maintenance, I don't mean vacuuming up the bed bugs, and so on. What I've loaded up are iron and brass frames from the estate. Neither is in what you'd call "as new" condition. One I know was found, or at least, parts of it were found, in a rustic slab-built, dirt-floored farm shed. It has history. I, to this day do not know how a poddy lamb got into the house and was found standing on said bed. The second, like Anne Hathaway's inheritance of Shakespeare's second best bed, is quite likely not the second best in normally understood terms. Most recently it was acquired from a lady vendor on the simple basis that the porcelain spindles were not broken. When I say recently, I mean after the poddy lamb episode but before many other years.
Let's be clear about this: the number of iron and brass bed craftsmen can be counted on one thumb. I can't pick and choose, and fairly, I wouldn't want to. Instead I'm off on a road trip equivalent in length from, say, London to Dundee, or New York to Ohio. Why? So the cheeky devil at the other end can tell me that the second best bed is, in fact, the foot end of two different beds — explaining why the gorgeous little rosettes on the "head" faced to the wall and not inwards. No worry, he'll just cut that off, turn it around, weld it up and job's a good 'un. Or we we can go around to Grumble Bums place, aka his father, to whom he was apprenticed. He might have one in his shed, or that shed over there, or in this shipping container… He didn't.
On a road trip this long, and after all that beer, comfort stops are necessary. Here in a most pleasant Morris Park, in Canowindra, there is a customary notice of the Spring pastime of swooping magpies. Stop! Look again. A long drive it has been, but not an intercontinental drive. Here on a placard notifying the behaviour of a native Australian bird is a cartoon representation of a Eurasian Magpie. I blame the interweb; that and intellectual laziness akin to that which would normally see Victorian era beds, like mine, flung on the scrapheap.