This post was one in a series. The other parts are available here: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part V, and Part VI. When the motor failed on our sad little spit, we had to make a decision — get the motor working again somehow and re-spit the pig; finish roasting it in the oven; or turn the spit by hand. First we tried to get the motor working. To do that, we determined that we had to lighten its load. So I cut off our pig’s legs, and stuck them in the oven at 275, the same approximate temperature we were roasting it over the fire.With the lightened load, the motor worked for another five minutes before failing again. Next we tried to figure out how to turn it by hand. We (I write “we,” but I had all but abandoned the effort at this point, suggesting we just put the whole thing in the oven; I also lamely claimed that I was employing an effective management technique by telling everyone else that what they were doing was stupid and wouldn’t work, thereby inspiring them to succeed) found a piece of metal that fit over the end of the spit such that we were able to turn the spit by hand. We figured that if we allowed the pig to sit in one position for just 5 minutes or so, then spun it slightly to a section that was not well crisped yet, we could imitate the motor’s action, granted in a much slower fashion. We also probably lost a little juice by turning it this way as opposed to spinning it continuously with a motor. Continuous spinning allows rendered fat to drip back onto other parts of the pig as it spins, thereby basting the meat in its own juices. Without constant motion, the drippings were lost to the fire. But this was a good alternative, given the circumstances. Overall, this new strategy worked. Sorta. We did leave it in certain positions for too long, thereby scorching a lot of the pig. But only the thick skin of the pig got burnt, not the delicious flesh, so it wasn’t too big a deal. We would not have crackling, or a cooked football, but not a huge loss. Next problem: it started to rain. Our simple solution was to cover it with a piece of plywood from the garage. This portion was relatively boring, and involved a lot of simply watching the pig, making sure it wouldn’t burn. Most got bored, and left. About 6 hours from when we started, temperatures taken from the middle of the thickest parts of the pig (175 degrees) indicated that it was done. First tastes were had. Hooves were especially popular for nibbling, as Andy makes clear below. We then carefully removed the pig and spit from the supports onto a cutting board, and acted triumphant! In fact, we were still pretty concerned that the sucker would roll off the board. ‘Cept Andy. He was still flashing the number 1. Next step: butchering and serving your spit-roasted pig.