Button Snap
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Button Snap
Can you user regular pliers to fix a snap button?
Only one of the snap buttons fell of my nylon coat but I don't want to buy the special snap button pliers if I can just use a regular pliers or other household tool.
Does anyone know other options to have this fixed? My local dry cleaner could not do it thus I am resorting to fixing it myself.
Thanks in advance~
normally it works out for the better.
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How to Sew on a Button : Thread Length for Snap Buttons
Where can I buy a Wrangler National Finals Rodeo shirt..(button or snap)?
Not t-shirts. Dress shirt.
Farm and Fleet or any Western Store. I'm sure they also sell them on the NFR website.
I think they still run the figure eights out west. As I recall Jesse James in his Monster Garage segments engaged in a little of that on occasion.
When I did it was in 78. The most fun was when there was eleven teams of two cars to a team. The teams were chained together with a standard twenty foot tow chain. The cars were junkers with only the glass removed and the doors chained shut. I did it once.
I was in the follow car. The lead car was driven by the track champion and a best friend. His car was a 63 New Yorker with a 413 cubic inch V8. My car was a 62 Mercury Comet with a dead motor. My job was to keep the chain tight and his rearend from hangiing out too far.
The cars were almost to the intersection on the start. We were in it after the first lap. Big New Yorker going through wide open. Comet on its tail twenty feet back with a white knuckled-no-motored-driver behind the wheel.
Keep in mind I was thirty. Bev was an older woman of 48, older than my mother even. She almost got me killed in my first race.
I had watched her come out of four heading for one, turn one was at the end of the straight, left hander, as was two that was the other half of the one eighty sending you back towards the intersection. Turn three was a right hander, as was four sending you back to the intersection.
Bev would come out of four pedal to the metal small block chevy with open headers grabbing seven thousand plus rpm. She would be heading straight for the wall protecting us in the stands. Remember, it wasn't a true figure eight, it was two D's sitting end to end. She'd hit the rut caused by the traffic going from two to three and toss that big old puppy sideways with only that blip in the throttle that was the lift that tossed it sideways as she turned the wheel. She would have covered us with wet clay except all our cars had a full width mud flap similar to what you see on motor homes as she took on turn one.
My first race we got the green flag. I did as I'd watched her do. I lifted and turned the wheel ever so slightly going back into one crossing the intersection coming out of four, just like she did, I thought. I missed that rut by inches with my lift and turn move. So I kept going straight. I got it turned but hit the wall sideways so hard I heard stars and saw bells. I never missed that spot of spots to do the move ever again.
Figure eight drivers were the guys with the macho issues. We were the ones that the little kids just stared at when we walked through the stands. When we did it right we got whistles from the announcer as the stands as one held their breath for the crash that was so close but didn't happen to be done over again less than ten seconds later. Most of the race I braced myself for the hit but never had one in the intersection.
We had four flags. Green for start. White for one lap to go. Checker for it was over. And the red for when there was a crash serious enough to stop the race. That usually happened in the intersection or we had a roll over. There was no such thing as a dirty driving. Spinning someone out intentionally for being in your way was the way it was. You either moved over after the first bump or you got moved over by the second.
In the middle of all this testosterone in the seventies was a grandma. I'm sure she would have made any dress look good, heels look great, and lipstick, well, I'm not sure about that one, she was old after all. None of us wore driving suits. Heck, we wore helmets, that was too much already. I wore pocket t's just like I do today. She wore Levis and button snap western shirts.
The only time I recall an emotional outburst on her part wasn't really an emotional outburst on her part. Her old man had put another driver out in a heat race. His wife came down to the Arnold pits and started screaming in his face. When he didn't react she slapped him.
Wrong thing to do. Bev flattened her with one punch. She was a figure eight driver, figure eight drivers don't slap.
And yes, I wish I had videos of those races of Bev. When the granddaughters came over this old man would sit down and watch videos with them. Something he doesn't do now.