the Journey....thoughts and answers...

  • Thread starter Thread starter RICK FITZPATRICK
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Howdy folks. Well, needless to say, murphy has a sense of humor. Yesterday was his comedy of errors. Thats why I haven't got back here sooner. But later on that. I have something for you to begin a practice regimine for a while. Think of this as the first morning at boot camp. You know, the exercises. While some of you will think this is rediculous, and pass it off, some will take it on. For me, it still is my benchmark for chordal dexterity. When I get lazy for a while, and then try this comp within a song at 160 bpm, this will tell me to get off my ass and go back to boot camp. :D Kind of like situps when you got a beer belly :p

The point of this exercise is two fold. To get your dexterity level up to par, and develop hand/mind coordination. You have to see these chords in your minds eye, and get to the point where the transition from one fingering to the other is second nature. And btw, this is NOT an idle excercise. While it may look simple, just try it. Once you can do it 10 times in a row with no tempo and no stumbling, set a metronome at that speed and play it as 1/4 notes. Two beats on Maj7 and two beats on Maj 6. Once you can do this for one minute, at one position without stumbling, increase your bpm one notch. The diagram is in the Key of A. After getting to a little fluency, start at the 12th fret and play this exercise at each fret decending chromatically one fret per bar.
Once you get to the nut, reverse the direction, and move it ascending chromatically back up to the 12th fret. For those of you who understand a round of 5ths, play this exercise in a root round of 5ths. For those of you that don't know what that is, we will get to it promptly, but I want you to get started on this. The sooner the better.
And believe me. This is no idle exercise. There IS a point beyond exercise. There is much more to it. But you have to learn WHAT to play, before you learn HOW to play it. ;)
Ok guys, thats it till tonight. I have to button up this damn Mustang clutch job today. For those of you who have ever tried to adjust a Ford clutch cable, you know what its like to get to the damn quadrant under the dashboard. Fuck. Took 2 hours on the internet to find out how. Thank god for the net. Till tonight...
Dexterily yours
fitZ :)
PS. Thanks guys for the vote of confidence on the storys. Like the exercise, there IS a point. Down the road.
 

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hey!

hey rick get them out of the desert man how did he fix the Tmodel? and what did you do after you got the guitar?
 
guitar junkie said:
hey rick get them out of the desert man how did he fix the Tmodel? and what did you do after you got the guitar?
I'm hanging in there too. I liked how you managed to corelate fixing your clutch with all of this, but I was looking for the journey.... ;)
 
Hell, we don need no stinkin jack.....

Hello folks..what town was I in? Oh yea, somewhere out in the Mohave.. ;)

(from last episode). "With dad and his brother being the oldest, it fell to them to get em out of this delima, and it was a delima. Sun wasn't up yet. Early to bed, early to rise as they say. Besides, better get started before the sun came up. It gets hot quick. REAL hot."

Dad woke up first. He was used to it, as his chore everyday was to gather some firewood and light it. Everyone had their chores. Dad and his brother Joe slept on the ground with just a canvas cover in between them and the ground, and one blanket between them. Joe was sick too, but not from the food. He'd fought a bout with reumatic fever when he was 6 years old. Not good. Never was the same again but you know how kids are. He was 10 now and tried to do everything every other 10 year old tried. This morning he was sick, but he knew they were in a pickle. He asked Dad what they were going to do. Dad told him the truth. He didn't have a clue. But what ever it was, they better git on it, cause the suns comin up. But he knew what was first. Same as any other day, get some firewood and light it. Grandma was stirring now, and you didn't want to rile grandma. She was part German and part Irish. Damn, she could get cranky, especially before she had her coffee. Hence the firewood.

You know, its strange, you can be in the desert with temps over a 100 in the day, but at night, it can get downright cold sometimes. This was one of those mornings. And when ya got no shoes, well, you can imagine. Wind was up too. Blowin across those rocky old foothills like a lizards breath. Every one was beginning to get up now. Aunt Pat, Aunt Agnas and the baby, slept in the back of the truck. Uncle John, slept in the cab cause he was small.
Aunt Pat was up now too. Since the boys were busy fiddlin with the
fire, her job was fillin the coffee pot and getting things out for some day old biscuits and Karo syrup. Most days, this was breakfast. Sundays was hotcakes if they had milk and eggs. But not this Sunday. Besides, most everyone was still queesy from the dinner, or maybe some bacteria in the water. Who knows. Aunt Pat was still wearing her homemade bandage from stubbing her big toe on a rock. It bled pretty good, and after walking in the dirt, it was real funky. Hurt too. But you know kids. Grandma had cleaned the cut up, but after an hour in the dirt, the bandage was coming off. She finally just removed it and got on with her chores.
After some breakfast, Dad asked grandpa what to do. Granpa was still laying in his homemade "tent". Wouldn't do nothin to keep out the rain, but it was privacy for grandma mostly, and kept the wind off of them. Granpa told Dad to find a bucket to drain the oil and gather up the tools. Drain the oil? Well, when grandpa told you to do something, you had better think. Otherwise he might get mad. Grouchy ole Irishman syndrome I think. I suffer from the same disease.

Dad and Joe had been around granpa when he worked on the truck engine before. They remembered the head gasket job. Grandpa was real angry when he did that one. Scraped knuckles make for thrown wrenches and lots of cussing. They didn't remember draining the oil, but they remembered him draining something.. Grandpa pulled off a hose to do it. Thats when the liquid drained out but Dad was too busy looking at the engine. He remembered wondering what all those things were for.. but like grandpa always said, standing around wasn't going to get it done so they best git busy. Time to open the hood.

Dad was nervous, but he'd been interested in mechanical things from the time he was real young. He even fixed the hand water pump back in Oaklahoma. He was 8 at the time. Grandpa was gone, and they'd just moved in to an old farmhouse. It was better than the last house though. Even had a water pump at the kitchen sink. Grandma was in seventh heaven. Man, modern conviences. Ha! But the pump wasn't pumping anything. They thought maybe the well had gone dry. Dad thought about it. He found an old pipe wrench and opened it up. Thirst makes for thinking hard and trying things. Dad looked at it. VOILA!! He got a bucket and walked out to the pond, which was actually the farm animal watering hole. A small creek had been damned up years before, which made a small pond, but this time of year it was almost dry. Still enough to dip the bucket into though. Thats all he needed. Now, I'm no pump expert. Hell, I'd been stuck, but not Dad. Somehow he figured out it just needed to be primed. How he knew that I don't know. But he did. In 20 minutes they had fresh water pourin out of that old pump in abundance. Little miracles.

He wished for a miracle today. They needed it. The sun was over the horizon now and the light was right on the truck. Old black steel gets hot quick, but Dad was still cold and the rays from the sun felt good. To this day Dad hates being cold, cause he spent a good portion of his childhood cold. He opened the hood and looked. How would you drain the oil. Hell, where was the oil, thats the question. He looked hard. Dads lesson #1 over the years. LOOK!!. I've never forgotten it to this day. Hell, thats how I fixed the Mustang clutch quadrant yesterday. But to a kid facing fixing something he knew nothing about, I'm sure he was bewildered. He looked some more. Hmmmm, liquid for an engine would have to be in a pan or something. Cool, there it is.
But how to get the oil out...drain...plug...hmmm. Time to look some more. Doggone this thing is dirty. Old dirt roads, mud, grease, oil..all make for a dirty engine, especially undernieth. But kids don't worry about that stuff. Hell, if anything a mudpuddle is great fun.
Dad crawled under the engine but it was dark under the truck. He couldn't see anything but the sun rays worked their way through the spokes of the wheels. Hmmm. It gave him an idea. He remembered grandmas little old mirror that she had kept for years. The silver was coming off at the edges, and had a crack in it too. I think it was her mothers, so she never let go of it. Dad sent Joe to get it. While he was gone, Dad looked. And looked. And looked. Where would someone put a plug...DUH! at the lowest part of the pan..of course. He felt around. Voila! Big old plug. Joe came back with the mirror and handed it to Dad. He saw what his brother was up too. Dad aimed it at the sun and flashed the sun in Aunt Agnus' eyes and giggled, then shined it on the pan. Joe was learning too. I still use this trick. The mirror worked great. Better light than a drop light. He could see everything. Lots of bolts and things he didn't have clue about. He would soon enough though.
He looked at the plug. It was big and was going to take a big tool to turn it. Looked like the pipewrench might work good and told Joe to get it. He wondered to himself why they had to drain the oil? Not the time to ask though, just do it and ask later. Time to find out if this actually was the oil pan drain. The pipewrench was old, rusty, and hard to adjust. In those days they were called monkey wrenchs. Dad wondered why while he tried to adjust it. Joe was feeling bad now though, and went back into the cab to lay down.
The truck moans and sinks a little even from Joes weight. Dad fiddles with the wrench and after a few turns it fits the plug. He pulls on the wrench. Hmmm. Its covered with greasy dirt, and every move makes dirt fall in his eyes. Crap, this ain't no fun already. Sun is already getting warm too. He feels the suns rays hitting his feet but it feels good. He was cold all night. He pulls again...ah..it moves a little. And a little more..now with his fingers. He turns it a few times more and .....arrrrgggg....oil! Even at that age he knew something was going to come out of the hole when the plug comes undone, and you better not have your face in front of it. He was right. The bucket was right under it and dad drops the plug in the bucket. Oil ran down his arm, but only a bit. Hmmmm.m not much oil. Only a drop now. Something clicks in his mind. Thats why the truck "blew a rod". No oil. Things were adding up. But what happened.
Time to find out.

Dad went to the tent and asked grandpa what was wrong with the truck. He'd heard the noise, and heard grandpa tell grandma he thought they'ed blown a rod. Blown a rod? Hmmm, where were they gonna get a rod out here? Maybe there was more to it. But exactly what was a rod anyway. And what did he mean by blown? And why? and and and...lots of questions ran through Dads mind.

Grandpa was sitting up now and watching Dad under the truck. He expected some questions now, but since he wasn't a mechanic, he couldn't tell Dad much. Dad didn't like to ask granpa much either. In fact, grandpa wasn't a very pleasant father. Dad had plenty of reason to fear him too. He'd got his share of whippings over the years, so casual talk with his father wasn't something that happened very often. A quick question, and a no nonsense answer was the usual. Today was no exception. Dad asks the minimum. "Whats next Dad"? Grandpa knew a blown rod wasn't really the problem. That was just a term for a rod bearing going bad from lack of oil. He knew all through the trip that it was a possibility. It was an old truck when he bought it. It leaked oil, and even though oil was cheap then, food and gas was the name of the game. Even when it got low, he hoped they woiuld make it a bit farther. But he ran out of luck when he ran out of oil. He'd filled the crankcase a hundred or so miles back. In those days, oil was pumped out of a 10 or so gallon barrel into a glass jar or metal oil can with a filler tube on it. I bet you've never seen one. No such thing as plastic oil containers like today. We're so spoiled. Containers made from the product they hold. Hmmm But grandpa knew they were facing the Mohave and the Sierras so he spent the $1.50 he'd saved for emergencies on a used one gallon gas can and filled it full of oil. Didn't think it would do much good now though.
Grandpa tells dad, "Gotta pull the pan now son". Pull the pan? Pull it where? Dad is use to figuring out grandpas statements. He thinks for a minute. Oh... remove it. Pull it becomes part of Dads new mechanic jargon.
He walks over to the truck. Hmmm,, how do you "pull the pan" , and why?Time to look. If it had to be removed, how do you remove it? Dad climbs under the truck again and looks at the pan. Hmmm. He can see a little better now. Its getting brighter and warmer, but it's still pretty dark under there. When he climbed under, he put his hand on the trucks fender. Wow, its already getting hot. But its still cool under the truck. Hmmm, mirror time. It still works. He looks ......oh, little bolts around the pan...ok. Now, how to do it? The pipewrench sure isn't going to fit those. Joes still laying down, so Dad climbs out from under the truck and goes to the tool bag.
Grandpa didn't have many tools. Hell, he didn't have much of anything. Oakies were poor. Grandpa had heard some people had made it out of Oaklahoma to California and were working now. Thats how he heard about Taft. News traveled slow in those days, but he'd got a tip from one of the Oil Company foremans. They were hiring in Taft California. Grandpa never heard of it, but didn't care. If thats where there was work, thats where he was going. He'd even gone to the Phillipines when he was younger. California was 2000 miles away, but if your starving, and lost your farm, what else could you do. It was the depression and there wasn't any work in Oaklahoma anymore.
Dad looked in the tool bag. Hmmm 2 or three wrenchs and a few other basic tools. The bag had been sitting in the sun, and the tools were hot now. Better take the whole bag to the truck. Its cooler under it. Hmmm, its real hard to do things under the truck. Not much room. Dad gets an idea. He'd seen a guy in one of the towns they passed through, working on an old truck like theirs. At the time he didn't understand, but it was perfectly clear now.

Dad goes to the tent and asks. "Can I push the truck on its side"? Grandpa was a no nonsense person, and reasoning was the name of the game. It made perfect sense. Besides, it was an old truck, so who cared? Grandpa gets up and calls everybody over to the truck and tells them, We're going to lift the truck up on its side. Grab a place to lift." Joe jumps out of the truck now. They'd taken everything but the bedding out of the back, so it was pretty much ready. Even grandma helped. A one, two three, heave. With all of them lifting, it wasn't hard. Old model T;s weren't very heavy. Joe ran around on the other side to look. Dad had left the bucket on that side, and there wasn't much in it, but every drop was precious now. Luckily, they missed it.

Dad looked at the pan. Grandpa tells him.."I hope we can fix this, but I don't even know whats really wrong with it." Dad says..."whats a blown rod?" Grandpa had been a steel worker most of his adult life, and was used to being around engines and things, but he wasn't an engine mechanic. He'd learned the jargon from a friend of his. "I think a blown rod means the bearing has melted from the heat. When you run out of oil, the bearing gets real hot and melts."
Dad asks what a rod is. "Well, I've never seen one, but I think its connected to the crankshaft". Dad knew what the crankshaft was. Never saw it but in order to start the engine, you had to turn it with a big steel crank thing in the front of the truck. Grandpa had told him a year ago about the crank turning the crankshaft. He tried to see it in his mind. But like grandpa says, won't get done standing around. The sun was getting hotter by the minute and so was the steel.
Dad looks at the bolts. Grandpa is still sick and goes back to the tent. He wants to fix it himself but feels like throwing up. You know the feeling. Can't work when your real sick. Dad looks at how many there are, thinks to himself, which wrench? He has three to pick from. Old open end wrenchs but big and fat, with a different size on each end. Dad picks one and trys it. It works. Great but its not easy with these old wrenchs. Takes an hour to get em all out. He's proud of himself. Now for the pan to come off. He pulls on it. Hmmm, ain't coming off. He gets the old flatblade screwdriver out of the bag for prybar and finds a place for leverage. Little by little, around the perimeter it starts loosening up. Finally, he gets the screwdriver under the flange and with a final pry, pop! its loose.
I don't know if any of you guys ever worked on a really old car. I mean like a 40's or 50's, or even 60's, let alone a car from the 1920's cause thats what this was. In those days, gaskets were cork, and sealant was this black goo that once it heated on, you played hell getting it off. Thats what dad was up against. Half the cork stayed on the block, and half on the pan caused by the black goo. Dad had no idea what it was though. All he knew was what he saw behind the pan. HOLY SHIT. What was this stuff? A mechanical monster. Dad was proud of pulling the pan, but now, this was a whole 'nother animal. But now he was getting into it. He looked at it for a while. Joe stood in amazement. What was this stuff? He asks his big brother if he could fix it?
You know big brothers. Dad didn't have a clue, but sure couldn't let his little brother know that. "Sure I can". Joe was skeptical..."bet ya can't"
Dad surveys the mechanical marval and spots something. Hmmm, theres where the crank goes into the crankshaft...OH...thats the crankshaft!. He points to it and tells Joe, "see, thats the crankshaft" like a seasoned mechanic. Joe looks at it. "Whats that thing?" as he points to a thingamabob
connected to the crankshaft. Dad looks. Theres little pieces of metal all around it. Dad thinks for a minute.."thats a...a bearing"..not knowing a bearing from a muffler. Joes impressed...but now he starts feeling bad again.
Joe tells dad he has to go lay down. He finds a shady spot on the other side of the truck. Its getting hot now. Even at 9:00 sweat is starting to form on Dads forehead. Tools are getting hot too. Better put them in the shade.

I don't know what Dad was really thinking right then. But I can imagine. Dad walks to the tent but grandpa is asleep. Dare not wake him right yet. Besides, grandpa didn't know anymore than Dad did. But something was clicking in Dads brain. That metal all around the thingamabob...what was that? He goes back to look. He grabs ahold of the thingamabob and trys to move it. I moves ever so slightly. Sweat's dripping now. Sure gets hot fast in the Mohove and Dads thirsty. Not much clean water left either but he gets a drink out of the drinking water bag anyway. Grandma asks how he is doing. "Ok" dad says.The girls are off playing with the local bug zoo. Little doodle bugs and such.

Dad goes back to the truck and looks at it good and hard. Hmmmm, two nuts holding the thingamabob on the crankshaft. And those metal pieces all around it. What could that be? Dad remembers grandpa saying a bearing melts. He decides to take the nuts off and see. But these are real hard to get a wrench on. He digs in the bag and finds a similar size. Damn, he's getting good at spotting wrench sizes. It fits, but not on straight. Barely can turn it too. Dad pulls real hard but it doesn't budge. He trys again, but the wrench slips cause its on at an angle. Ever looked at a crankshaft? Easy enough to pull a rod bearing cap with modern tools, but all he had was a open end wrench, and he couldn't get the wrench around the nut. He thinks....VOILA! He gets the pipewrench and places the open end on the nut parallel with the bolt. Then puts the pipewrench on the open end wrench and pulls. He lets out a whoop. It's loose. Grandma comes over and looks. She shakes her head in disbelief. "Your going to make a good mechanic one of these days Patrick".
Thats my Dads name. Patrick Fitzpatrick. 'Bout Irish as you can get. Dad beams with self esteem. His confidence is growing, but he still doesn't have a clue to the mystery. What happened to the thingamabob and why are all those little metal pieces there. He was about to find out. He takes the other nut off quickly with his new found technique. Another whoop!! With one hand holding the rod, and one on the thingamabob, he wiggles and pulls. Hmm. doesn't want to come off, yet it moves on the crankshaft He looks. It should come off. He raps it with a wrench. Wow, it splits into two parts around the crankshaft. He pulls it off and looks at it. Little pieces of metal fall from the thing in his hand, and theres pieces all over the crankshaft. He looks at the other half. Hmmmm..rod...hmmm...bearing...hmmmm...burnt...melted...All of a sudden it beclomes clear as day. The thingamabob holds a bearing and its melted.

Folks, those are called babbit bearings. In those days, the babbit was a soft metal, that under friction and heat, actually melted. At that moment, it all fell into place for Dad . Like a mystery puzzle when you find the magic piece. Dad was pleased with himself. He'd removed the pan, and found the bad bearing removed the thing that held it all by himself. It was time for a break. Afterall, this is hard work and its gettin real hot. Another drink of that water was called for. Grandma tells him to go easy on it.

Grandpa was awake now. Dads last whoop woke him up. He gets up and walks over and looks in amazement. Naw, Patrick couldn't have done this already? Could he? How? He looks at Dad and says, "Patrick, your going to make a good mechanic one of these days". Dad wasn't used to getting compliments from grandma, let alone grandpa. He beamed. Maybe he was good at something afterall. For years he was left with a feeling of uselessness by his dad. He couldn't do anything right till now. He just hoped he could fix it though. Thats the real sign of a mechanic. He was determined.

There still was a problem though. Grandpa says, "you've found the problem all right, but I don't know how your going to fix it. Ain't no place to get new rod out here. In those days, the bearings were cast right into the rod and cap. He was right. How in the hell could they fix it? They might as well sit out on the road and wait for a car to come by. Maybe grandpa could get a ride. Fat chance though. Only 2 cars passed them the opposite direction the whole day before. Dad was baffled now. He sat and thought for a while. I think he just wanted to go play like his sisters. Joe was still laying down. Pretty much stayed down most of the time. But he knew that it was getting towards noon now. If he didn't figure this out pretty soon, they wouldn't be able to work directly in that sun. When its 110 or so, you don't do much for long directly in it. Dad didn't have a clue what to do. But he had to go the bathroom now.
He'd been so busy he kept puttin it off for over an hour.

Everyone found their own spot to go the bathroom out in the boonies. Dad saw a little hill the night before and found his spot. He made a beeline for it fast, cause now he had to go bad. It was really gettin hot out there now. He pulled on his belt to undo the buckle while running ...snap! He'd had that belt as long as he could remember. The leather was all wrinkled and worn where the prong held it against the buckle. But no matter, he had to go!!
Ahhhhhhhh, how do you spell relief....mmmmmmmmm. Thats good. Ha! He thinks about the belt. How's he going to hold up those baggy pants now. Hmm, just have to tie cord or something.....he's still thinking about the bearing too. Belt...bearing....belt....bearing......HOLY SHIT!!

Dad holds up his pants while he runs back to camp. All the while he's thinking.....belt....bearing....belt.....YES!!!!! Thats IT!! Dad gets back to the camp and asks grandma for one of her old trusty knives. If theres anything that grandma hates its a dull knife and hers are sharper than a Gillette shaving blade. Sharpens them herself. Sign of a great cook from days gone by. Dad takes the knife and sits down beside the truck. Looks at the thingamabob and thinks to himself. Belt...Bearing...Belt..its gotta work. Why not? He hates that old belt anyway. Never did have holes where they should be for him...either too tight or too loose. The knife slices it easy. Razor sharp. He estimates the lenth and cuts a piece about the diameter of the crankshaft. Hmmmm. How to make a butt joint? Hmmm, lets see if it fits...
Too long...have to trim it.....wait...Dad thinks to himself.. overlap it and taper the leather, that might work. He proceeds to shave the piece at each end into a nice scarf joint. I haven't got a clue what made Dad think of this.
But thats what he did. Amazing when you think about it.
Grandpa was laying down again. Grandma was giving the baby a rag bath. Joe was asleep. The other kids were playing. Dad was in his own little world.
To this day dad is the same way. When he's working on a car problem, he's just off in another planet. This day was the beginning of that trait. Its probably what saved them from either dieing out there or at least going into dehydration before someone came by.

In a stroke of genius, Dad must have realized the leather was dry and would quickly wear out. With the little oil in the pan, he rubbed oil on both faces, and carefully wrapped the leather around the crank journal. He'd pushed the rod up a bit which was probably a stroke of luck. The valves were probably open cause he wouldn't have been able to compress the cylinder if not. No matter, it worked. Holding the leather in place, he pulls the rod down on it to the point it won't slip. Now for the thingamabob(rod cap). With carefull alignment the cap goes on. Now for the nuts. Done deal. takes him 10 minutes with his new technique for turning nuts you can't turn normally. Another half hour and the pans on. No sealant, no new seals. Just do it. Done deal.

Well folks, you can guess the rest. They pushed that old truck over, poured the gallon of oil in, cranked it through and VOILA!! It started right up.
With 5 or 6 hours of daylight left, they broke camp and made it to the next migrant camp by nightfall , and Needles California the next day.

Heres a little extra tidbit. That bearing lasted another 200 miles to Taft, and another 300 miles to Corning California. My Dad was all of 11 years old. He went on to join the Navy at the beginning of WWII and became a flight mechanic on PB-Ys in the Pacific. He was on the PB-Y that discovered the Japanese fleet heading to Midway. You may have seen the movie. His picture is in the Smithsonian. And I'm damn proud of him. This is a true story.

fitZ :)
 

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Brilliant

Pretty cool chapter Fitz - great lessons in there! Keep it comin'! Peace, Rez :cool:
 
RICK FITZPATRICK said:
Heres a little extra tidbit. That bearing lasted another 200 miles to Taft, and another 300 miles to Corning California. My Dad was all of 11 years old. He went on to join the Navy at the beginning of WWII and became a flight mechanic on PB-Ys in the Pacific. He was on the PB-Y that discovered the Japanese fleet heading to Midway. You may have seen the movie. His picture is in the Smithsonian. And I'm damn proud of him. This is a true story.

fitZ :)
Wow. Just wow... I didn't quote all of your story, just the part that really impressed me, being that in about 4 months I am going to retire from the Navy. Keep it up. I hope you get close to the meat and potatoes soon. I don't know how much time I have left. I may have to go back to a ship soon, and that will all but end my time here until after I retire (probably long after...).
 
Meat and potatoes!

Hello guys..well, I've been kinda tied up with work. Only time lately for small posts on the Studio Building forum. But tonight..Meat and potatoes first, story later. So lets get on with the main course.

Guys, the whole ball of wax for the 60 chord system can be summed up very simply.

5 chord qualities x 12 keys= 60 chords


Sounds easy huh! Hell, most of you know some or most of the qualities already I bet. But just in case you don't, here they are:

MAJOR
MINOR
DOMINANT
HALF DIMINISHED
DIMINISHED

SEE, THAT WASN'T HARD WAS IT? OR IS IT? sounds easy enough.......
But what about on the guitar itself. What does this really mean, and how come I've made such a big deal about it? I'll tell you why. Just learning the simple explanation does NOT mean in any way shape or form that you can actually use what it imples, UNTILL, you actually FORCE yourself to learn ALL the implications, and that is where the work comes in. Guys, from what I've witnessed in other players, yea, they want to learn it but they don't want to REALLY learn it. They want to dink with it in one or two keys and forget the work. They get lazy. The fact is, YOU CAN"T AFFORD TO BE LAZY CAUSE YOU ARE ALL RUNNING OUT OF TIME. PERIOD.
See, most of us are workin dudes. Practice time is really scarce, and thats what I'm talking about. Unless you find a way to shrink the learning time, then you'll waste more time trying to figure stuff out in a year, than spending the time learning this. But here is the incentive. I guarantee, if you spend the time to do what I say here, in THREE MONTHS, you will KNOW YOUR GUITAR FRETBOARD INSIDE OUT. You see, there is a method to learn this too. But you have to be consistent. EVERY DAY you have to do the work. And man, some days you will CURSE ME :D Just remember, this is NOT a technique to turn you into a lightning fast rock star guitar god, nor a dripping with music theory enlightened virtuoso instrumentalist. Nor a monster chop jazz legend. That stuff is up to you. I'm only doing this to teach you WHAT to learn, in order to know your fretboard. Once you know that, then all the doors will open to you, simple as that. However, there is much to do. So lets get to it cause youv'e got NO FUCKING TIME TO WASTE ANY MORE!!!


The key to learning the 60 chord system, is simple. You have to learn the notes on the fretboard. PERIOD. NO getting around it. So SAY IT OUT LOUD.
Comon, say it...I WANT TO LEARN MY FRET BOARD!!! Thats it. Now, here is what you HAVE TO DO in order to learn it. Simple. MEMORIZE IT.
STEP BY STEP...WEEK BY WEEK...STRING BY STRING..FRET BY FRET.
But I have a clue for you. There is a trick. A simple trick. The trick is called

THE CHROMATIC SCALE
And that is where we will start. The chromatic scale. Sounds intimidating huh?
C H R O M A T I C S C A L E..!!! What the fuck is that. I'll tell you what the fuck it is. 12 notes. 12 notes. 12 notes..hmmm 12 notes..HMMMM 12 notes.... TWELVE NOTES????? :eek:
THATS ALL MUSIC IS MADE OF IS TWELVE FUCKING NOTES!!!!! :eek:
And if you can't learn 12 fucking notes, ESPECIALLY when it is ALREADY made up of part of the alphabet, you might as well put your guitar in the closet and forget it!! Guys, I don't mean to sound condencending here at all. Sometimes though, simplicity gets hidden by confusion, intimidation, lack of will power, plain old apathy, and sometimes, good old fear. But fear not, you can learn this cause I"M GONNA MAKE YOU LEARN IT!! :p And you know why. Because you want to. Thats why. So with no further ado....gentleman, I introduce you to the Meat and potatioes......


Guys, the layout of the guitar is a FUCKING MASTERPIECE of thinking. What other instrument can you learn all there is to know about one key, and simply move your hand up to the next fret and VOILA!! another key with the exact same fingering. And think about this. How many instruments can you play CHORDS on...piano, violin, xylophone, vibes, and a few others. You are fucking lucky!! Chords are magnificent..just think of a trumpet player...shit, he can't play all the notes of a chord at the same time..hell no, nor can other horn players. And just think about this. When a pianist learns a key, like C, he has to learn it in BOTH hands, and one hand plays OPPOSITE fingering than the other. Not only that, EVERY KEY has different fingerings for the same chord qualities. :confused: :rolleyes: But not us. We got it knocked. Learn it in one key, then all ya gotta know is........THE NOTES ON THE FRETBOARD TO KNOW THE KEYS!!! Of course.....thats a little oversimplified, but no matter, its the truth. Guys, its EASY. Whats difficult for most guys is getting off their lazy fucking ass and make up their mind they are going to learn this stuff once and for all.....come HELL OR HIGHWATER!!! Cause once you do..Thats IT! You THEN have the MASTER KEY TO ALL THE HARMONIC DOORS


Sound fair? Ok, for those who are ready to get off their duff, cool, and for those of you who arn't........SEE YA!! :D
........................................................................................................
Lesson #1 Week 1 YOU SHALL REPEAT AND LEARN THE CHROMATIC SCALE .....I won't explain why now, but we will start from the note C.

Practice regimine.
12 times in the morning. 12 times at lunch.12 times in the evening. OUT LOUD
And 12 times (in YOUR MIND)...when you are in bed before sleep.

First ascending, then DEcending......like this. Say it out loud.....
(ascending)
C C# D D# E F F# G G# A A# B C
(decending)
C B Bb A Ab G Gb F E Eb D Db C

When you have this DOWN PAT...and I mean DOWN PAT then we will go on to applying it to the strings. There is much to see when you start to learn it on the strings. But thats not all there is tonight..hahahhaha! And you thought you were going to get off easy......GET REAL..remember WORK! Got no time for lazyness. I gave you an excercise for an Amaj7 to Amaj6. I bet you haven't even tried it. Well, if you have, get with it. Every fret. 12 fucking times at what ever speed you can do it SMOOTHLY 12 times. Set a metronome at that speed. NOW, do it 12 times starting at the SECOND fret, cause thats as low as you can go and still finger the Maj 6th. Now move up a fret...play 12 times MAJ7, Maj6...up a fret...Maj7, Maj6..up a fret Maj7, Maj6 12 times...up a fret...again..and again untill either your finger muscles start to get cramped, you slow down. Either way if your fingers get tired...STOP!! Rest your fingers for 5 or 10 minutes. When you can do this 12 times up 12 frets AND BACK, once in the morning, once at noon, once at night...THEN and only then, move your metronome up one notch. I'll tell you the next part NEXT week. Now......a NEW exercise!!!hahahaha..

Folks, what I'm doing here is PREPING YOUR FINGERS for later. If you can't do these excercises now, you certainly won't be able to do the later ones. So get use to it. Either do the work, or forget it, cause your NOT GOING TO MAKE IT UNLESS YOU DO. Comprende? Ok. Cool. Here is the next exercise. Just look at it for now. Think what you should do with this...remember? you got it...12 times per fret...up and back. Here it is. And btw, I won't bother explaining WHAT this excercise is for yet. Later. It wouldn't make sense yet. Just start them, ok. OK. hmmm..well, there IS a clue in the diagram... :D
The practise is back and forth between the first fingering(MAJOR) and the second fingering(MINOR). Make sense? More on this later. LOTS MORE!

Ok guys, thats it for tonight. More Meat and potatoes tomorrow...
Remember WORK WORK WORK NOW.......FUN FUN FUN LATER!!! :)
fitZ

BTW, no time for storys tonight. Tommorrow though.
 

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You know, the Sacramento Valley gets damn hot in the summer. Most days are at least 98, but July and August gets up in the 100's. This summer was no exception. The trip back from Aunt Pats was miserable. At the time, Dad had bought an old 1954 Ford station wagon to fix for resale. I think he got it free, but it needed a ring job. No prob for Dad. Did it in a day. When Dad did work on a car, he didn't waste any time, nosiree. Get in, get it done. He decided to test it out picking me up in Oakland. It ran great. Those old Fords had a cool sound to them. Little did I know I would have one soon.

We loaded up the amp and guitar, and my suitcase, said goodby to Aunt Pat, Jackie, and Uncle Jack and headed for home. Going from Oakland to Sacramento was a 2 hour trip, but we got to go over the Carkenas Bridge. This was a high bridge over the Sacramento River where it dumped into the San Francisco Bay. It's the end of the Delta. I remembered many trips over this bridge, going back to when I was a little boy in the back of a Willys. The bridge had a special meaning to Dad though. You remember Joe, his brother from the last story? Joe died here at the bridge in 1949. The bridge was different then. So was the road. The new one is straight, right on through the foothills around Vallejo, and on in to Oakland. Back then, the bridge curved for old hiway that curved around the hills that dotted the landscape in Valleo.
Joe was driving a big old hog, you know, a Harley motorcycle. One of those big old monstroseties with long curved fenders, and a big seat that looked like
a horse saddle. Even had the leather saddlebags with the chrome stars on it.Dad said it was his pride and joy. He loved to ride it.and ride it hard.
No one knows what happened exactly, but somehow he missed the curve on the bridge, and hit the railing. But it didn't stop him. Both him and the bike went over the edge, down to the mudflats 200 feet below. No one even saw it happen. He was driving to work at the shipyards in Vallejo late one foggy night. He worked the graveyard shift. No one saw it till a ship came close to shore, and a sailor spotted the bike. Joe was 30' from the bike, laying in the mud. It devistated my Dad. He kept that bent up old Harley for almost 10 years after that.

We crossed the bridge and the wind was blowing up the delta. Dad said good, it would cool the valley off tonight. There is a weather phenomena in the valley, where the heat rises out of the valley, and pulls the cool delta breeze 100 miles up the Sacramento River. I come to love that breeze over the years. But for now, the valley will be sweltering. 20 more miles over the Vacaville divide, and you drop right down into the valley. After being in the bay area for two weeks, it might as well been Death Valley. I told you about the Sacramento valley. Agriculture everywhere. As far as the eye can see, its green fields of every kind of vegetable imaginable. Vacaville had its own special fields though. You could smell it 5 miles away. Onions. Holy crap. Certain times of the year it would make your eyes tear up, just like peeling one. Today was one of those days. Hot, sticky, and onion fumes. Hmmmm, no fun. I couldn't wait to get home. It was only the end of July so still had plenty of time for swimming at the pool and lake, and the other fun things to do...and NOW, I had myself and electri GEEETAR!! Cool. Couldn't wait to get home and try it out.

Sacramento was WAAAAAAAAAAY different in the 60's than it is now. Population explosions, huge freeways, miles of housing tracks and shopping malls galore are the hallmarks of Sacramento now. But back then, the road from Oakland to Sacramento was the famous hiway 50. It went all the way from Oakland to Lake Tahoe, and onward for 2000 miles east. I only went as far as Tahoe back then though. And it still is the same over Echo summit just before Tahoe. You ought to see the view when you come around that first corner. DAMN. What a view. Lake Tahoe is 4000 feet below....STRAIGHT DOWN :eek: Still scares me to this day. Barely two lanes wide, cut into the side of solid rock. But thats another story.
Hiway 50 heads eastward out of Sacramento, and about 7 miles out was Rancho Cordova. Hahahahaa! Good old Rancho. What a place. Right out of the movie about that era..American Graffiti. Drive in movies, and bowling alleys, the typical A&W with hot rods, and various other typical 60's memoribilia. The first month I lived there, a new McDonalds went in with the giant yellow arches. Man, talk about American Graffiti. It was perfect. I spent a 1000 weekend nights hangin with friends in their rods there. 15 cent hamburgers and cute girls. What a time. I was simply great. I was in heaven there.

When we got home, mom and my sisters were real happy to see me. I couldn't wait to show them my new geetar. My sisters faces lit up with amazement. My mom was probably thinking the worst, like loud noise or something, but she didn't show it. In fact, she put up with my noismaking for many years after that and never said a thing. Anyway, it was great to be home. My room was pretty small in that house. Dad and mom had rented it when they came down from Whidbey Island. It was close to everything, including Aerojet, where Dad was now working. Mather AFB was just down the street, and Hiway 50 was a stones throw from my bedroom window. What more could a 16 year old kid ask for.

But it was getting dark when we got home. The delta breeze was starting to cool things down too. Thank god. There was no air conditioning in homes back then. Only the breeze. Most nights, we'd sit out on the lawn to cool down in the evenings. It was beautiful too. The neighborhood was a typical 60's tract home on a residential street. Right out of the movies. This night was different though. I had my new amp and guitar. Time to find out what this thing did.

Hooking it up wasn't hard...IF you had the cables. DAMN...somehow I left the guitar cables at Aunt Pats. CRAP. Oh well, have to get a new one somewhere. But where. I'd find out later. For now, it was time to get aquainted with the guitar. Now, most of you that play probably remember straping on your guitar for the first time. Man does it feel good. Slick body and neck, and all kinds of knobs and things to play with. Ha!! But music is the point of this thing...so lets make some sounds...wheres the pick..oh yea, in the case. Lesson #1 ALWAYS have pic in your pocket...from that day forward I ALWAYS had a pic in my pocket...or two...or three :D But now it was time to pick...how do you hold it? hmmm felt natural between my fingers, like I was destined to hold one..ha! Lets try it...top string "plunkgggggg" Wow...sounded like Duane Eddy..hnmmm his song came to mind...It had only been out a few weeks and I already had the tune in my brain...40 miles of Bad Road...the melody was in my head..if I could only get it to my fingers...."plunkgg plunkgg ggggplunk......ECK! wha th fu....sounded like shit..hey, this thing must be outta tune.......HMMM..how do you know its outa tune.......hell, for that matter...how do you tune it? :confused: :confused:

Lesson #2 Always tune up....but how? How do you know what the strings are supposed to sound like???? I didn't have a clue.. nor did I have pitch in mind. When you first start out, you have no idea of the relative pitch of the strings, or a starting point. No matter...I'll get it later. For now I just want to PLUNKGGGGG around on the strings and have fun with it PLUNK PLUNKGGG..PLUNKGGGG....WOW! those notes sounded like they fit somewhere in the song...hmmmm, lets try that again...man thats cool...
over and over ....the same 4 or 5 notes..first one sequence, then a wrong one then another wrong one, hey....think about it...this note, then this note, then hold this finger here, and play that note....opps! DAMN start over..

Visions of playing the whole song are soon filling my head. All I have to do is find all the notes........hmmm...not easy remembering where to put which fingers on which frets.......AND THEN, fit the pick in between the strings...DAMN, how do you remember all this stuff...Two hours go by. I didn't even notice. Two more hours...its dark, but the street lights are lit. I'm sitting in a chair in the garage with the garage door open. Hmmm, I look up..HOLY SHIT...theres two cute girls out at the sidewalk watching me. FUCK!
HOT DAMN...I lay the guitar down and walk out to talk to them. Never seen them before. Their friends of my sisters. "OH, yea, their home"..come on in. I'm grinning ear to ear. Wow. cool. I go back to playing PLUNKGG PLUNKGG
gggggggrrrrrrrrr... wretched. Sounds terrible. I look up. One of the girls is staring at me. She blurts out..."your not very good" :rolleyes:words come to mind.. "NO SHIT SHERLOCK",,,,,,instead..." I just started playing". I was embarrassed. what can you say.."of course I'm no good you idiot. I've only had the guitar for 2 days"!!! I would have said something sarcastic but she was cute. Hahaha. You don't run off cute girls just because they think you suck at playing guitar. Lesson #3. You'll get better, but they may not come around again if you chase them off. I never forgot it. Hahahaha!

Something tells me this isn't going to be as easy as it looks. But, theres always tomorrow. Besides, I still have to get a cord. Hmmmm, have to find a store that sells them. Oh well, tomorrow. Time to take a walk around the neighbor hood. Its the weekend and kids are getting ready to play "hide go seek", Good way to meet girls too. In the dark. Cool. :D

Well, thats it for this episode. Later guys.
fitZ :)
 
This is kewl... I missed the final desert chapter before, so I just got to read two in a row!!! :D

Lovin this Rick!

:)
 
thanks

thanks Rick i love the stories too. keep em coming! i will have to work on the 60 chord thing sometime soon here.
 
Bump

BUMP!
thought i would make it easy for Rick to find again

i think this should be made into a sticky but thats just me...
 
Thanks once again for the vote of confidence. The breath of members guiotine replys or lack of interest, or maybe my appearing as an old fool, keep my posts from appearing on a somewhat routine basis. :D Your sole interest in the 60 chord system will keep it alive. As I said, if I can help ONE person achieve what I WISHED I had when younger will satisfy my intent. Soooo, I still have work to do today, but tonight I'll return with a continuation. Thanks again guitarjunkie. :) In the meantime, here is something to think about.
The guitar is nothing more than 6 lines of the chromatic scale laid before you.
Because the designer of current normal guitar string tuning must have had a stroke of genius, the scales are offset in ascending 4ths except for the B string, which was the stroke of genius. Had it also been tuned a 4th, chordal fingering on 6 strings would have been difficult, if not mostly impossible.
But because most beginning guitarist don't understand how chords are built, and the guitar allows for chords with 6 tones, a misconception occurs as to the fingering of chords on the guitar. Consider this.
I have given you a fingering of the most audible of quality difference. That being between a Major and Minor INTERVAL. This is a difference of ONE note.
It doesn't even take a triad to hear the difference. All other qualities are based on these two intervals. When you extend either of these two qualities to a TRIAD, they reverse. Hence, look at these two TRIADS. One is a Major triad, which contains BOTH intervals in the sequence of a Maj interval, and then a minor interval. The second triad is simply the reverse. A Minor Interval and then a Major interval.
I'm actually jumping ahead of myself here, as I would have rather illustrated how the Diatonic scale is built from the chromatic scale first. This would show how intervals are determined. However, I will come back to that tonight. For the time being, take a look at this, as it will become one of the most important aspects of the 60 chord system concept, or should I say CHORDAL concepts period. Take a look. This is referencing the two intervals I illustrated last time. However, a minor interval on the G and B string appears as a MAJOR interval :eek: See the next illustration. It is this fingering "adjustment" that is a stroke of genious. See ya tonight.
 

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Here is the stroke of genious
 

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RICK FITZPATRICK said:
Your sole interest in the 60 chord system will keep it alive.
He's not alone, Rick! I have been waiting for this too! I've been reading and just not posting in the thread. I am actually going to use this to teach someone else how to play (after I get a good grip on it).
 
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