About an hour ago, I was detail stripping my wifes P226.
I was doing that, what I'm doing now is cleaning out 40 years of stuff from behind and under my grandfathers workbench.
These two events are connected of course, in the only way they can be, by small things that go "sproing".
While I was removing the extractor, I let the tool slip I was depressing the extractor pin with. The extractor pin, in it's failed bid for freedom, shot directly into my parts pan where it rattled dejectedly for a moment before accepted its captured fate.
Not so for the extractor pin SPRING however, which in it's desperate flight from servitude boinged it's way over the bench, down behind it, and into oblivion.
Not good.
I peered over the end of the bench to have a look behind. It's an inherited home, and an inherited workbench. Behind and below it? Forty years of dust bunnies, spiders, odd parts, and a large roll of fine weave chicken wire.
I've never looked through a roll of chicken wire for a 1/4" spring, and I wasn't planning on starting tonight, so I retrieved my trusty plastic bag-o-salvation, the standard 226 parts kit.
To no ones surprise, the requisite spring, is not included in said kit.
One shop light, one pair of overalls, forty feet of chicken wire, and three black widows later, I still haven't found the little bastard.
Let this be another lesson to you in the "giant plastic bag" method of disassembling boingy bits. :banghead:
I was doing that, what I'm doing now is cleaning out 40 years of stuff from behind and under my grandfathers workbench.
These two events are connected of course, in the only way they can be, by small things that go "sproing".
While I was removing the extractor, I let the tool slip I was depressing the extractor pin with. The extractor pin, in it's failed bid for freedom, shot directly into my parts pan where it rattled dejectedly for a moment before accepted its captured fate.
Not so for the extractor pin SPRING however, which in it's desperate flight from servitude boinged it's way over the bench, down behind it, and into oblivion.
Not good.
I peered over the end of the bench to have a look behind. It's an inherited home, and an inherited workbench. Behind and below it? Forty years of dust bunnies, spiders, odd parts, and a large roll of fine weave chicken wire.
I've never looked through a roll of chicken wire for a 1/4" spring, and I wasn't planning on starting tonight, so I retrieved my trusty plastic bag-o-salvation, the standard 226 parts kit.
To no ones surprise, the requisite spring, is not included in said kit.
One shop light, one pair of overalls, forty feet of chicken wire, and three black widows later, I still haven't found the little bastard.
Let this be another lesson to you in the "giant plastic bag" method of disassembling boingy bits. :banghead: