The Cute Little Forklift Story

1975

How my friend Barney Kaplan modernized me

Written 12/2011 Re-Written 8/2015* 2,997 Words

Howard Yasgar

This is a story all about getting my first forklift.

It’s how a good friend had to threaten me, in a nice way of course, to get me to change my way of thinking about buying a forklift.

However, once he did it, it set in motion circumstances that I felt was worthy of me writing a story all about it.

This story begins in 1973 when I had just started a new division of our company in Miami, we called API Marine.

API Marine remanufactured outboard and inboard marine starter motors and alternators.

I started API Marine in the same location as API, (Automotive Parts Industries) which was our automotive parts rebuilding company.

We had just started doing business with a surplus parts dealer in Detroit, his company name was BKS or Barney Kaplan Surplus.

At the time, the owner, Barney Kaplan, was buying all the excess marine parts from the Prestolite Corporation.

Our being able to obtain these Prestolite parts from Barney was crucial to the success of our company.

Eventually Barney not only became our biggest supplier, but he also became my good friend and eventually he became my mentor.

My relationship with Barney was unique, every time I talked to him, he gave me lots of suggestions on how to improve the running of my business.

Every few months I would fly up to Barney’s place in Detroit and sort and sort lots of new and used Prestolite parts for Barney to ship to us in Florida.

The Prestolite parts would usually come to Barney in large pallet boxes, I would then sort through the boxes removing the parts we needed, then I loaded those parts into barrels that were provided by Barney.

Each barrel when filled, probably weighed somewhere between 400 and 800 lbs.

As soon as I filled up enough barrels, Barney would call a trucker to haul the stuff to Miami.

At the time, Barney was a bachelor, so when I flew up to Detroit, he would have me stay with him in his apartment.

This gave Barney the opportunity to give me his advice for a full twenty-four hours, and that was whether I wanted to hear his advice or not.

At the time Barney was in his fifties, and he had a lot of experience in the automotive rebuilding business. Consequently, he never stopped advising me about how to improve my own business.

Barney didn’t care at all if I disagreed with him, he just wouldn’t stop advising me.

Sometimes I was tired of listening to him, especially when in my opinion he was wrong.

But after I had told Barney he was wrong, I would usually find out later that Barney’s advice was probably correct.

Whenever that happened, and it was often, I called him to apologize and I told him he was 100% right, and that always inspired him to give me more unsolicited advice.

In the long run I estimated that my friend Barney was giving me good advice at least seventy percent of the time.

One day he asked me how we were unloading the truck loads of parts he was shipping to us, so I told him how we did it.

At the time, our receiving heavy loads of parts was a relatively new experience for us, we never had a loading and unloading dock, or a forklift or anything like that.

So, I told Barney step by step how we unloaded his barrels of parts.

I told him that first we would put about six used car tires on the ground, then I would climb up into the truck with three husky helpers, while two or three guys would wait below on the ground.

We would then, by hand, rock the heavy barrels into position on the end of the truck and let them drop on to the tires on the ground.

The three fellows standing below would kind of steady the barrels as they bounced off the tires.

Occasionally a barrel would bounce the wrong way and tip over, then my guys standing on the ground would pick the barrel back up and refill it with what had fallen out.

We knew this was a crude way of unloading a truck, but it was cheap, I knew a forklift would be better, but I felt that the cost of buying a forklift just seemed too much for us at the time.

One day, Barney said, “Why don’t you have a forklift”, I told him we never had one and I don’t think we need one.

Barney said, “How many of your guys show up for work the next day after unloading a truck”. I had to think for a minute, Barney was right, after unloading, the next day most everyone complained about sore arms and shoulders.

Barney said, “It looks like I need to get you a forklift”.

I replied, please don’t do it, I don’t want one, and besides that, I really can’t afford one.

I had hoped that was the end of my forklift conversation with Barney.

About a week went by, and Barney was on the phone, and he was again talking about a forklift.

He said, “You listen to me, on your next truck load, I am sending you a forklift, and when you get it, and after you get it running 100 % percent to your satisfaction, you should send me $250.00”.

Barney then said, “If you don’t take the forklift, I won’t sell you any more parts in the future.

I knew Barney couldn’t be serious about not selling us, so even though I didn’t really want the forklift, I didn’t say no.

I felt it was easier for me to accept the forklift from Barney than to have to listen to him talk to me about it every time I spoke with him.

A few weeks later, a truck arrived from Barney, and I went out to look at what he had sent to us.

The truck driver opened the trailers rear doors, and lying there on its side in front of the barrels of parts, was the smallest, dirtiest and rustiest little forklift I had ever seen.

At first, I didn’t even know what I was looking at, because it had very faded yellow paint and there was so much rust. It just looked like a pile of scrap Iron.

We called a neighbor over with his forklift and he unloaded the piece of junk Barney had sent me.

Once it was unloaded and standing on its four hard rubber tires, I could see it was a little forklift.

However, especially noticeable were the missing front forks.

Right away, I intended to call Barney and give him hell.

It was obvious that this forklift had been laying in someone’s outdoor scrap iron pile for a very long time.

I wondered, did Barney really think I was a complete idiot, and I was going to buy it?

I was so mad, my hands were shaking.

I instructed my men to push the tiny forklift off to the side of the warehouse and get it out of the way.

I felt that I needed to compose myself before I called Barney and raised hell with him for sending me such a piece of crap.

I was mad, but once I was in my office, I sat at my desk and I got busy with phone calls, and soon I forgot to call Barney.

After a day or so, and when I was in a better mood, I walked out into the warehouse to look at the forklift again.

This time I looked at the data plate, and I saw it was a 2000-pound Towmotor, and it was built in 1942.

The forklift was only about three feet wide; it was so narrow that it probably could fit through my office doorway.

So here it was 1975, and Barney had sent me a 1942 forklift, it was like an antique piece of junk that was used and abused, and it was over thirty years old.

I felt that the tiny forklift had probably already outlived its usefulness a long time ago. I was sure someone had thrown it into their junk pile.

However, being a mechanic myself, I admit I was curious, and curiosity got the best of me. I forced myself to look at what a very rusty Continental four-cylinder engine looked like.

The engine was sure cute, but it looked like it hadn’t run for many years.

The more I studied it, the more I smiled, it was the smallest and cutest little forklift engine I had ever seen in my life.

I instructed one of my men to go ahead and put in a new battery.

I knew the engine would never run, but what the heck.

Well two hours later, the new battery was in, oil was put in the engine, and I sat on the torn forklift seat and turned the key several times, but nothing happened.

By now I had collected a crowd of curious employees all watching.

I now thought that as we already had wasted time putting in a battery, I asked one of my men to remove the starter motor, after all, rebuilding starter motors was our business.

Later that day, the rebuilt starter was installed, and I again turned the start key, but the little motor just wouldn’t turn over.

I tried turning the cooling fan and belt, but nothing happened, the engine appeared to be frozen solid.

Well, I knew how to fix a rusty engine, I thought that perhaps all it needed some penetrating oil in the cylinders.

I then proceeded to remove the four sparkplugs and when I looked down the sparkplug holes into the motor. I could see the heads of the valves and all the rust.

I figured I couldn’t hurt anything by putting some oil in the spark plug holes, so for two days, I poured penetrating oil into the four sparkplug holes.

I poured it in until they were full, and then I watched as the oil slowly ran down the sparkplug holes and onto the engine’s valves.

I tried the starter again, and by now everyone in our entire shop was watching me.

None of us could believe our eyes, the engine was now actually turning.

Now when I looked down the sparkplug holes and I could see the tops of the intake and exhaust valves, and they weren’t moving down, they appeared to be stuck in the open position.

I poured more oil down the spark plug holes and pushed the valves down with a metal

3/8 socket extension shaft, and with a hammer I tapped each valve down.

Then when I turned the engine over, with the starter, to my surprise the valves came up and went down by themselves.

We cleaned the sparkplugs, drained the fuel tank and put in fresh gasoline, and that’s all it needed, the engine started right up and ran, no one could believe it.

It was a 12-volt battery we had installed, so we removed the 6-volt ignition coil and replaced it with a late model 12-volt coil.

Then we repaired the distributor and installed a new alternator and voltage regulator.

For some reason, I was no longer mad at Barney anymore, for us, it was now a challenge to get this little Towmotor working.

Next, I called Barney, and I told him what a beautiful and cute little forklift he had sent me.

I told him the engine ran perfectly, but the forks for the forklift were missing. Barney said he would find a set of forks somewhere.

He also said that in the meantime I should check the forklifts transmission to be sure it had oil in it, and to make sure everything was working well before we paid him $250.00.

The next morning, I went back to the warehouse to look at the transmission.

The floor shift transmission had a long gear shift lever that was held down with eight bolts.

I loosened all the bolts, lifting the transmission shifting forks up very carefully, I placed it very carefully on a warehouse shelf so I could reinstall it back in the correct position.

Then I investigated the transmission, and my heart nearly stopped.

The transmission was full of rusty brown muddy water and oil.

The brown water had been in there so long it had completely rusted and pitted up the entire inside of the transmission.

I stuck my finger in the mud, and it was a solid thick brown, it was the kind of reddish-brown mud that stuck to your fingers and wouldn’t come off.

It took me two days for my blood pressure to calm down, and then I looked closer at the transmission.

I studied it from all sides and concluded that a forklift transmission wasn’t like a car transmission.

The only way to remove it was to take the entire front mast assembly off the forklift and then move the engine forward.

I could see that once that was done, the transmission could be unbolted from the engine, and slid backwards and out, boy was I pissed off, that was a lot of work.

At that point, I could see that the entire forklift needed to come apart, to fix it, but by now I had so much time and money invested in this piece of junk that I had no choice, I had to do it, like it or not.

It was certainly a major project, but by using heavy duty jacks, wooden levers and blocks and a lot of sweat, I was eventually able to disassemble the entire front mast assembly.

But, to do it, the work had to be done by my laying on my side on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

When I finally unbolted the transmission from the engine, it still wouldn’t slide back.

I assumed there was a hidden bolt somewhere, but I couldn’t find it.

I was so frustrated I proceeded to pry the transmission out with a crowbar, and that’s when we heard a cracking noise.

Yes, there was a hidden bolt, and now I had broken off the top of the transmission bell housing.

I tried to remain calm, as I finally removed the transmission and unbolted the broken piece of housing from the engine.

We then washed out the oily mud inside of the transmission, so I could better see what was going on.

I was surprised to see that all the gears were very pitted from the rust but all of them

were still intact.

My solution was to soak everything in mineral spirits for two days, then I rinsed it until all the gears in the transmission eventually turned by hand.

I then proceeded to disassemble all the gears bearings and shafts carefully, putting all the parts in their proper order on a bench.

My intention was to sandblast them to get the rust off.

There was an upper main shaft, and it had a large sliding gear on it, so I knew it was important to make sure the gear didn’t get taken off the shaft and accidentally get reversed.

I called over my trusted Cuban sandblaster Jose.

I knew Jose spoke some English, he had worked for me for several years, and he always understood me and did everything exactly as he was told.

While I welded up the broken piece of the transmission case, Jose sandblasted all the transmission gears, bearings and shafts for me.

He did a beautiful job oiling up all the parts after sandblasting them.

I was a little nervous, so just to be sure, I asked Jose a second time if he had taken off and reversed the gear that was on the main shaft.

He looked me squarely in the eye and said, “No Mister Howard”.

I decided that even if all the bearings and gears were badly pitted, I could still reassemble the transmission, I knew that the transmission gears and bearings worked in heavy oil, so I felt that the pitting would help lubricate everything.

The transmission assembly job went like clockwork.

I then bolted the transmission on the engine and reinstalled the forklifts mast.

I needed help and it took us two days to complete the entire job.

Finally, I got on the seat and started the forklift up. I put it in reverse gear and backed the forklift out of the warehouse and onto the street.

Everything was going just fine, so I shifted into first gear, and the forklift took off just like a race car.

When that happened, it was an incredible feeling, I was so proud of our accomplishment, so were all our employees.

Then I went to shift into second gear. But there was no second gear, nor was there a third gear.

I kept trying to shift and eventually realized that I had three speeds in reverse and only one speed forward.

At that point, all my employees came out onto the street to see what was wrong.

I took the shift lever off and tried installing it in several different positions, none of which worked.

I then peered into the transmission and quietly studied every gear and what was going on.

The problem soon became obvious; Jose had reversed the upper large sliding gear when he had sandblasted it.

I questioned him again about it, but he just gave me a blank stare, that’s when I found out that Jose didn’t speak even one word of English, he never understood when I told him not to reverse the gear.

The only English Jose spoke was “Yes Mister Howard”.

It took another two days to take apart the whole forklift and take out the transmission again. It was easier the second time, because we knew where all the nuts and bolts went.

Eventually our 1942 Towmotor was all together and working and its 35-year-old engine ran perfectly.

By now we had invested so much time and labor into the little forklift that I probably could have bought a brand-new forklift cheaper.

We paid Barney his $250.00 and we used that 1942 Towmotor for over ten years, unloading hundreds of trucks.

We used the Towmotor until 1985, when Barney sent us a much bigger, thirty-five-hundred-pound Clark forklift.

We retired that cute little Towmotor by parking it under the pallet rack in one of our warehouses, and there it just sat for another 20 years, until 2005.

My wife Katherine was now running the company, and I told her the story about the

$250.00-dollar Towmotor that Barney Kaplan had sent us in 1975.

When she heard the story, she brought that little Towmotor forklift over to our main building, and we gave it a new coat of yellow paint, we wrapped it in clear plastic, put on a giant red bow and loaded it on a truck.

We sent it back to Barney in Detroit, along with a note thanking him for the use of the forklift.

Over 30 years had passed since Barney had talked me into buying the rusty little Towmotor, so we thought that sending it back to Barney free would be our little joke on him, Barney was now over 90 years old.

When I called Barney, I was surprised when he told me that he had received the forklift and had already sold it.

He had sold it to a mutual friend, Mike Murley, of Murley’s Marine, in Fairhaven Michigan.

I had to call Mike and tell him the whole story.

Mike said, he loved that little machine, and he was using it every day.

On January 2012, Mike Murley called to wish us all a happy new year, and he said that he had just converted the Towmotor to run on propane gas.

Is that a cute Towmotor forklift story, or is that a cute Towmotor forklift story?