I don't know if this happens with other people. I don't think so, I'd like to think if everything
was this difficult for everyone, then everyone would be as frenetic and cynical as I am.
My mother says that it's a Scottish thing - Lurching from crisis to crisis. Nothing ever, ever
works as you intend - even if it is a routine and "simple" matter.

I collect vintage computers. It's a bad habit. I also like to collect old and possibly obscure
Operating Systems, which fits in along with the fetish. Recently I decided that I wanted to run
an A/UX machine - a UNIX that Apple put together based on BSD that blends in that perfect mix
of UNIX and MacOS magic, what Apple reproduced in recent years with MacOS X that blows most sensible
peoples' minds. Anyways, I digress, so A/UX runs on a number of 68k Macs, in particular all Mac IIs.
I happen to have a Mac IIsi upstairs in one of my Geek Closets, so I decided to give it a try. I have
a copy of A/UX 3.0.1 on CD, and a boot disk image.
No problems, mate.

The first trick is to make the boot disk. This requires me setting up AppleTalk on my Linux machine
so I can copy the 1.45MB DiskCopy image to my Ethernet enabled LC630, then scour the entire internet
for DiskCopy (Since within days Apple took down its friendly FTP site, and their web search function
for the downloads section was significantly broken), get DiskCopy to the LC630, do all that unbin'ing
stuff, and produce the image onto disk... A good disk, mind you, hard to come by these days in my
Geek Palace, I haven't bought new 1.44MB floppies in about three years. This takes perhaps an hour
to get the machines together and running, get AppleTalk firing over Ethernet and all this disk nonsense.

Next is to put a CDROM drive into the IIsi. The IIsi comes with a single 1.44MB floppy disk drive,
and that's it. So I decide to use the one from the LC630. I open the CD on the LC630 to test out my
freshly burnt A/UX image, and BZZZZZZZZ. The drive emerges an inch, the most horrendous buzzing noise
occurs, and the drive tray sucks itself back in again in retreat. I could've sworn the drive worked
fine in past. So I pop the CD drive out, which takes 30 seconds thanks to the brilliant design of
pretty much every Apple ever made, and take its top cover off. I can't see anything at all. Confusing.
I take the LC630 apart, which takes somewhat longer since its a complicated machine in a small package,
so that I can see the drive working as it attempts to eject and read CDs. The first time I pop out
the CD tray (which I persuade to eject fully with a forceful handshake) I see what the problem was.
There is a paperclip lodged perfectly under the CD tray in such a way that not only could it not be
seen with the tray in, but it made the tray ejection mechanism jam, and also the laser head would get
stuck on its own worm gear. An incredible fluke. The LC630 used to live in a school, which explains
that. This takes a good 45 minutes, in total, as taking an LC630 apart into its component pieces
really is kinda time consuming when you don't remember how to do it.

I'd like to interject the allegory at this point in time to put forth a theory that I've come up with
regarding the humble screw. I believe, and this has been after many years of first-hand research and
industry experience, that all screws (nuts, bolts and associated fasteners) have a miniature and
top secret cloaking device incorporated into their selves. This cloaking device is enabled when the
fastener is in close proximity to a flat expanse and is at a geometric rate of motion; For example
after some clod has dropped it and its about to hit the floor. This would explain, naturally, how
one can drop a screw, follow it to the floor with their own eyes, and still be unable to find it
as soon as it hits the ground - as it magically vanishes.
More recently I have developed a corollary to this theory - that the cloaking device is easily damaged,
or has some kind of physical shut-off switch, and as soon as you step on said screw, undoubtedly
inflicting great amounts of pain, the fastener is now fully visible, at which point you'll pick it
up and go 'Where in the bloody hell did this come from?'.

My next hinderance in my CDROM endeavour was a SCSI cable. The IIsi only has a two-ended cable, I
needed one with three connectors on it. The only SCSI cable I had easily accessable like this was in
my SGI Indy. Thus crack open the Indy tear out its SCSI cable. Perfect. Now to power the CDROM drive,
because of course the IIsi doesn't have another power rail. I find a standard AT power supply, which
will work a treat - except, like all quality power supplies, when the load is too small the unit
won't power on. So I have to stack a completely redundant spare harddisk onto the power supply to
make enough of a draw that the thing will come on. This is another 30 minutes.
I now have a strange Apple monster lurking on the other desk, with hideously deformed drives and
power supplies poking out at odd angles, multiple harddisks whirring and fans spewing dust.

And while we're on the subject; Now to test whether the IIsi will boot off my boot disk. I power
the Mac on, stick the disk in and wait. The Mac graunches, attempts to read the disk, gives in,
auto-ejects the floppy, and carries on booting off its internal disk. Hmz.
I insert the disk again, after the unit is booted, and MacOS ponders for a bit, as one does, and
decides it doesn't know what in the hell is going on, and then asks me whether I'd like to format my precious disk. How rude!
I decide that it's likely the floppy drive heads are due for a cleaning, as is a problem with older
Macs like this. I pull the drive out within seconds, extract it from its steel mounting case, and
slide off its protective plastic shell to discover what are possibly the largest dustballs I have
ever seen in a confined space. The dust bunnies have BRED and MUTATED and now there are dust elephants
wedged between everything in this poor little drive. I rush to get the vaccuum cleaner, which naturally
is in a closet, behind a chair, behind some boxes, behind a stack of papers, and begin to furiously
suck the black death-fluff out of the mechanism. This works, largely, but there are still some
bits clinging to the inner reaches around the spindle and such, so I put the vaccuum cleaner up to one
end of the drive, fill my lungs, and blow a high pressure burst of air into the other end of the
drive, extricating the last reaches of dust and grime. Picture it. Some idiot french-kissing a
floppy disk drive, with a vaccuum cleaner menage a trois, hyperventilating from blowing too hard.
It is indeed a good thing my wife is understanding.

After a bit of read head cleansing with some Isopropyl alcohol and Q-tips, we're ready. I reassemble
my MacBeast, fire up the PC power supply, insert the A/UX CD, hit Mac soft-on button, insert the disk
at the appropriate moment and am soothed by the gentle graunching of a floppy drive booting off
itself. Minutes later I have the standard A/UX installation greetings, it's found the A/UX CD in
my bastardised drive setup, it's ready, it's going, it's installing... And then I'm delivered Apple's
oh-so-friendly "Ding" of discouragement. A Problem.
A/UX requires an FPU, or Floating Point Unit microchip. I had clear forgotten about it - I wasn't thinking about
such trivialities as hardware requirements, only how to create Steve Jobs' worst nightmare from spare
parts and chewing gum. I don't have an FPU... I'm dejected, I'm depressed, I'm pissed off, hell, I'm
plain screwed.

But wait! Only $2.99 on eBay!
So I put all three computers back together, tidy up the computer room, put the vaccuum cleaner back
into its hidey hole and now I get to wait for a week until my PDS slot adaptor and FPU chip arrive
so I can try again. I wonder what I can cock-up between now and then?