MOVING MOUNTAINS AND CLIMATE

I was going to make copious amounts of home brew fuel,
saturday and sunday up at an undisclosed farm upstate new york.
Repeat up as in 230 miles real north.
About 50 to 65 miles of that are backroads where the birds eat the breadcrumbs...

I arrived around dusk-starting to cool down
-rather let's ratchet it up- during the middle of the town's picnic and festivities.
Fanfuckingtastic. Homemade foods and by that I mean home grown too.

Kids bouncing around like flubber. They where running around a parachute
playing tug of war and a pie eating contest.
The adults playing tug of war, drinking wine or summer brew
listening a bit better than the kids but not entirely two ears to the accoustic folk music that was
meandering the church donated folding tables,
they were telling their own stories.

One was about a man standing on the roads' shoulder holding a jerry can.
Overcast gloomy and predicted that the heavens seemingly might tear open
and force the land to the ever mysterious deeps of the sea floor, neighboring Davey Jone's Locker.
The man telling the story was the driver whom stopped sympathetic,
he leans over opens the passenger door and says get in...

Driver/story teller:
Funny I must have been into the radio program cause I didn't see your car stranded earlier on down the road.

Gas can man:
He smiled as the foresaken sun had just decided to beam down and illuminate his post,
illustration a saving grace and, He said-
It wasn't there, in fact I don't have a car- I use this can cause it gets me more rides.
This is how I get to work.

The driver/story teller:
Car stoped again our narrater rolled down the window and threw (trew) him the hell out,
change scattered along the dividing lines.

Man, how actions stain.

Moral: be honest to up state strangers cause some of them grew up in brooklyn.

We made 55 gallons and filtered around 110 gallons of WVO at 5 microns.

All was working lovley till we fucked up the washing process.
And by fucked up I mean flooded the garage in 80 gallons of water and oil...
What a mess. What a leak.

By the the time I was ready to leave
We hadn't made up our lost time, from our failed wash attempt.

I only put about five gallons of our 55 gallon batch in my truck for fear the contents contained to much water.
It was quite cloudy and by heating small amounts in mason jars we realized that our home grown
just needed more washing and drying.
During my pergatory of processing-




I, By myself, changed my motor oil for the first time in my 15 years of driving, man it helps to have a garage.