I would love to say I did it by jamming my foot up someone's @ss but actually it ws a stupid move on my part.

I've been telling the mechanics to replace a guard all week on one of our lines. And to add a stabilizer bar to keep the feeder machine from moving.
Everyday we just kept kicking it back in place and complaining.
Today I kicked it and it kicked back. Pants got caught on a spinning shaft and my foot was told by a five horse motor to penetrate the concrete floor.

A task for which it was not designed.

Now, we have had this language issue for years where to only word everybody needs to undertand is STOP! "Parada La machina" is just Tooooo Looooooooonnnnnng.
With my fingers just 3 inches from the Emergency Stop switch, my screams of STOP, STOP, STOP!?! went unanswered for at least twenty nano seconds. Seemed like twenty minutes.

BUT EVERYONE WAS RACING TO HIT THE STOP BUTTON, ANY STOP BUTTON. BECAUSE WITHIN LESS THAN A SECOND, ALL EIGHT LINES IN THE PLANT WERE ON EMERGENCY STOP!

Either the torque overload design worked or the stop switch system worked. All my parts are accounted for and still, amazingly, connected. Trust me I can tell. In fact I can precisely tell exactly where all my body parts are located. They are all sending me screaming E-mails.

OKAY, so that part of my plan works. Now, we just have to cut me out of the machinery.

End result, right foot is crushed, ankle is bent, knee is really p!ssed off. And everyone, who works for me, knows my freckles go all the way to my crouch. Pants Are Ruined.

The good news; My clutch foot is fine. I hated those pants anyway. They made my butt look fat.


roadster with a stick