To Infinity, and a Wheel!

I had a drop spindle, and I was happy. All thoughts of a spinning wheel were put out of my mind because they were way out of my price range. Then my dad told me he had found an antique wheel on sale for $100. For you non-spinners, trust me, that’s pretty inexpensive. I prayed about it, because that’s a lot of money for me, and the Lord gave me a peace about buying it. The only hitch? The seller lived an hour and a half away from us, and he was planning to be on vacation the only day Dad and I could go take a look at it.

We didn’t want to buy it sight unseen because we didn’t know if it was a working wheel or not. And this is where it gets neat: The seller was going on vacation unless it rained. If it rained he was going to be only an hour away from us, and he would bring the wheel with him. And Who controls the weather? It rained, and we drove out to see the wheel.

The wheel looked a bit dingier than the pictures had showed, but all the pieces were there. (Everything except a distaff.) The wheel was still true after who knows how much storage and disuse the poor thing went through. It was coated all over in a faux finish so it would look like milk paint. I bought it. (Naturally.)

My Wonderful Wheel

After we got it home we set it in the living room so I could try it out. Aside from the minor fact that our make-shift, bright pink drive belt would pop off suddenly, it worked very well, and after a little while the belt stayed on.

Singles and Plied

Here’s some of the carded Corridale that I spun on it in those first couple days of practicing. Although, come to think of it, the singles on the cones are all I did on the wheel. The finished skeins next to them were done completely on the drop spindle.

The wheel remains somewhat of a mystery. We don’t know how old it is, although we think it might be in the one hundred year range. It has “G. P. Adams & Co.” stamped in the side, but we can’t find records of that company. There isn’t a nail in the thing, unless you count the parts that stick out of the flyer, and it’s pretty rickety. The treadle has developed a creak, and if I’m not paying attention it will slowly work its way out of the wheel’s legs and will squeak. The annoying, loud sort of squeak. Thankfully it’s easily fixed. Simply push the legs back toward each other and the probem is solved.

The plan is to take it apart, refinish it, replace any battered parts, and generally re-tighten it. Of course, that involves my giving it up for a week or so . . . Hmm. Anyway, I was thinking we would stain it to a dark brown. Maybe a walnut. Until then, it works, and the creamy color is actually growing on me. Familiarity and all that, you know.

By now you’re probably thinking, “This is one more spinner’s love song over their wheel,” and it is, I guess. It’s a great little wheel, with lots of character. But it will only have as much “character” as I read into it. Quite frankly, I’m trying not to get too attatched to it, but it seems to be a losing battle. I walk into my room and it’s sitting there next to my bed. Waiting for me patiently. Creak and all.