American Landowners: Starting with Hunting in Alaska

The feeling of making a completely broken machine roar again is addictive.

Su Wei couldn't resist the urge to continue, but his hunger was warning him otherwise.

There was also a cotton candy nearby, constantly whimpering.

Lunch was simple: two slices of luncheon meat with crispy edges, a few eggs, and a glass of water.

The fight was over in three minutes; the plate was thrown into the sink.

Su Wei turned around and went back to the garage.

He needs to hurry and test his idea!

In the shadows of the corner, the broken-down snowmobile sat there obediently.

This is a pile of scrap iron weighing several hundred kilograms, his only possibility after the heavy snow blocked the mountain, and the key to the herd of walking American dollars—the Roosevelt deer—in the U-shaped valley.

How did they manage to carry hundreds of pounds of venison out of the snowfield on their own two legs?

That's courting death.

We must try to repair it!

Suwei pulled down the overhead incandescent light, and the dim yellow light enveloped the scratched machine.

Marshmallow, with its round belly, strolled in and sniffed the stale gasoline smell with disdain.

Then he nimbly jumped onto the bar stool, curled himself into a ball of fluff, and squinted as he acted as the supervisor.

It didn't mind the smell of engine oil filling the room; it just wanted to stay obediently with Suwei.

Of course, if it can't stand it anymore, it will go out for a stroll.

As long as it doesn't go far, Suwei doesn't need to worry about its safety.

Suwei put on non-slip gloves, the rubber finger cots still covered with black oil left over from repairing the Ford engine.

His gaze swept over the engineering plastic fairing of the snowmobile.

In the view panel, under the Life module, a wrench-shaped icon slowly jumps among the skill icons.

[Mechanical Repair LV2]

If this were yesterday, Su Wei would have seen it as just a bunch of complicated parts that would give him a headache.

But now, things are completely different.

In his mind's eye, the situation with the snowmobile slowly came into view.

The complex mechanical structure was automatically disassembled and stretched in my mind, turning into a suspended three-dimensional blueprint.

The location of the clips, the stress points of the screws, and the routing of the wiring are all frighteningly clear.

Let's get started.

Holding a Phillips screwdriver in your hand feels like an extension of your fingers.

The first screw is hidden at the bottom of the side panel.

The cold, damp air of Alaska rusted it to a dark red color, making it cling tightly to the surrounding plastic parts.

Brute force will only break the screw head.

Su Wei didn't rush to apply force. He picked up the rust remover from the red can and aimed the extremely fine nozzle at the gap.

Nourishes—

Foam rose, and a pungent chemical smell filled the nostrils.

Silently count to thirty.

Su Wei pressed down on his wrist, forcing the blade to take hold, and then twisted it sharply.

"Click."

A crisp metallic clang rang out, and the tiny vibrations of the rust cracking traveled along the handle of the knife to the palm.

opened.

This feeling of complete control is fantastic.

The disassembly was so fast that it left afterimages as the side panel fell to the ground, revealing the mechanical internals covered in grease and grime.

Two-cylinder, two-stroke engine.

This thing is more aggressive, simpler, and more delicate than a four-stroke engine.

Suwei ran his fingers over the cold cylinder radiator.

In previous inspections, ignition was normal, the fuel system was unobstructed, and the cylinder pressure was within acceptable limits.

But he was in a vegetative state.

When forcibly started, this thing makes a strange sound like someone chewing glass, and then it shuts down instantly.

It's definitely not a circuit problem.

Su Wei threw down the screwdriver and replaced it with a heavy ratchet wrench.

If the heart can still beat, then it's limb paralysis.

His gaze followed the crankshaft backward, sweeping over the clutch, belt, and gearbox.

The lesion is definitely on this power chain.

Click, click.

The ratchet wrench turned quickly and rhythmically, sounding like the ticking of some kind of precise clock in the quiet garage.

The CVT gearbox casing was removed, and a strong, pungent smell of burning wafted out.

That's the smell of rubber rubbing against each other at high temperatures, mixed with the stench of deteriorated gear oil.

The entire inside of the transmission case was covered with a layer of black dust.

Su Wei picked up a bit of black ash and rubbed it, feeling a rough, granular texture on his fingertips, with tiny glitter fragments mixed in.

Metal wear.

This isn't even wear and tear; it's something inside devouring each other.

After removing the frayed drive belt, Su Wei held the driven disc with both hands and tried turning it once.

It's very astringent.

Every time it turns to a certain angle, a dull "clunk" sound comes from inside, like a bone dislocation.

The vibration traveled along the metal and hit my hand directly.

found it.

right here.

Suwei took the air cannon off the wall of tools, but there was no air compressor here.

He replaced the extension rod with a larger 32mm socket and secured the center nut.

The muscles in his arms tensed instantly, and the veins bulged and sprawled beneath the grease.

The nut was locked in place as if it were welded on.

"rise!"

Su Wei gave a low shout.

quack!

The sound was deafening.

The marshmallow on the high stool was so frightened that its feathers stood on end like dandelions, and it stared at this side warily with its round eyes.

The nut is loose.

Su Wei shook his aching wrist and quickly removed the driven plate.

Now, the machine's final secret lies in the tooth bag right in front of us—the transmission gearbox.

That's the core component responsible for transmitting power to the tracks.

Suwei brought over a cut plastic bucket and attached it underneath, then unscrewed the drain plug at the bottom.

Black gear oil gushed out like spoiled syrup.

It's too thick.

And... the color is wrong.

The beam of the powerful flashlight shone on the oil, and the waste oil, which should have been dark brown, shimmered with an eerie silver light.

It was full of iron filings.

It's like having bone fragments flowing through a patient's bloodstream.

The parts inside the box have probably been ground to powder.

Without pausing, Su Wei spun the 8mm socket rapidly, and the eight cover plate screws seemed like obedient toys in his hands.

Tap the edge lightly with a rubber mallet.

Bang, bang.

The sealant cracked, so I used a flathead screwdriver to cut into the gap and gently pried it open.

clack.

The cover fell off, and the remaining oil spilled all over the ground.

Ignoring the filth, Su Wei shoved the flashlight beam deep into the box.

The main gear has not broken teeth.

The chain is a little loose but not broken.

Tensioner, normal.

Where did this pot of "silver blood" come from?

Su Wei reached out and plunged his hand directly into the cold, icy bottom of the gearbox, his fingertips groping in the slippery, greasy mud.

Suddenly, he touched a hard, sharp foreign object.

The feedback from my fingertips was irregular in shape, with sharp edges that could cut my hand.

Clamp it in and slowly pull it out.

It was a metal shard no bigger than a fingernail.

Suwei wiped off the black oil with a rag and held it up to the light.

The fracture surface exhibits a coarse, granular crystalline structure, which is typical of brittle fracture.

He held the fragment in his hand, then peered back into the gearbox, searching for a gap in the complex meshing structure.

Two minutes later, at the deepest point, at the base of the connecting rod that connects to the drive shaft, Suwei found it.

It was a high-strength alloy steel connecting rod, about the thickness of a thumb.

It broke very cleanly; it died from exhaustion.

Long-term high-load dragging, coupled with cold starts in the extreme cold of Alaska, caused countless microcracks invisible to the naked eye to form inside the metal.

This is metal fatigue.

Like a repeatedly bent wire, it finally snapped completely under some relatively mild force.

The broken connecting rod did not fall to the bottom, but got stuck between the gear and the housing.

Every time the engine tries to turn, the fractured surface acts like a wedge, firmly pressing against the gear.

That's why the engine stalls as soon as you shift into gear.

This is a terminal illness.

Su Wei looked at the cold, twisted metal fragment in his hand.

This location is under immense stress, making welding impossible; the weld will break apart again under any stress.

Logically speaking, this snowmobile is already doomed unless you replace some parts.

But where can you find spare parts in the deep mountains of Kodiak Island?

Suwei did not throw away the fragments.

He stared at the broken connecting rod, his eyes shining even brighter.

The LV2 mechanical repair technician not only diagnoses, but also rapidly calculates another possibility in Suwei's mind.

A brutal but effective method that doesn't require original parts.

His eyes were fixed on the Ford engine.