Warning: These are graphic pictures of a Featherweight in extreme duress.
Last week a friend asked me to clean her Featherweight. She warned me that it had not been cleaned in a while and that several raggedy quilts had been made on her for Christmas. So I thought I had prepared myself mentally for what was to come.
Imagine my surprise when I opened the case and found an almost completely white machine! My jaw must have hit the floor! Luckily, only Dickens was a witness.
Here you see her as I was starting the recovery process. See on the arm, that black spot? That's where the linty fibers have been disturbed. I have partially disassembled her, as evidenced by the miscellaneous parts surrounding her, and the throat plate is off.
I know, it makes you want to hide your eyes and shriek like a soap opera star!
In case you were not horrified enough by the previous picture.
A view from the bottom. See all the dust clinging to the metal between the feet?
And this is something I had never come across: When I tipped the machine back, this is what I saw under the hand wheel/bobbin winder area!
I am pleased to say that she survived the recovery process and is now fully functional, lint-free, and shined to within an inch of her life. New needle, lots of oil and lubricant, a container of canned air--she breathed a sigh of contented relief and purred as she made perfect stitches.
The moral of this story? When did you last clean your machine--whether a Featherweight or something else? New needle in the last eight hours of sewing? Just sayin'.
My motto: If you can't be a shining example, you can serve as a horrible warning. My horrible warning person has been chastised and has promised to never do this again as long as I keep her identity a secret.