This is what happened to a clutch mounting bolt.
This is what I have to say about it.
First I wet myself. Then I swore. Then I swore more. Finally, because the event merited it…I began swearing in different languages, varying octaves, and I think I started foaming at the mouth. I. Was. Unhappy.
Unfortunately I wasn’t actually struck dead by my stupidity. Since swearing and prayer hadn’t worked I had to think of something else. A run to the parts store (they’re getting to know me) and I had my emergency extraction kit.
Extractions never go well. Soon the drill bit broke.
At this point you’re “all in”. From now until the moment you get the broken bolt AND THE DAMN BROKEN DRILL BIT out of the engine you’ve transformed a potentially valuable engine into a smelly paperweight. I was doomed.
I took a break and drank some rum. I wondered if I could set fire to the tractor and move to Guam? But alas I had to go back into the garage and face my nemesis.
I used the “easy out” which are never easy and don’t always come out. I swore a lot. That seemed to lubricate it.
Then I fished around in there and swore some more. Through some miracle I retrieved the broken drill bit tip. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t cooked yet.
Finally I checked the threads. I didn’t even touch them. (There is a God!)
Now, after working half the day…I’m precisely where I was when I started this morning. Yet, after the bolt mishap I’m ever so grateful.
I’m on the porch now and drinking more rum. I can’t face the tractor.
There’s always tomorrow.