My son got his bicycle chain all caught around the crank. The only solution
was to pull the crank off, for which I needed a special puller. No problem!
To the toolbox I went, dug down a few layers and produced a special puller
for my own bike that I made under my grampa's direction on his 9 inch Atlas.
This was way back when I was still in university. I built this tool before
you were born, I declared to my son. See, its even engraved Grampa & Bill
1985. The boy was only moderately impressed. He was way more interested in
getting the bike fixed than hearing a discourse on the providence of the
tools we were using. So I showed my wife later and she was not impressed at
all. Especially when I admitted I had now used the tool twice, once in
1985, and once yesterday. You're such a packrat, it doesn't surprise me at
all she says. So I put the tool back in the box. Someday I'll pull it out
again, and I'll not tell anyone where it came from, because I know. Grampa
can't even walk any more, let alone spend an afternoon working on his old
(but bought new in 1956) Atlas. But we did in 1985, and I've got the tool
to prove it. Maybe some of you guys will understand.
Sure do. Remeber to call Grampa and tell him.
I built my garage workbench in 1964 when I was 14 using my
grandfather's bit and brace and a handsaw. In 1975 I put a hex head
sheet metal screw in the leg so my two year old son could turn it in
and out with a socket wrench. I've moved four times since then but
never had the heart to remove the screw.
My grandpas have both been dead for years, but to this day I enjoy
nothing more than using their old hand tools. Nothing particularly
special about them, except who owned 'em. It's kind of like they're
helping out on the projects.
It was about 1985 when it snowed in Seattle and some idiot in front of me
stopped timidly halfway up a hill, leaving me no choice but to stop and back
down the icy slope before someone jammed up behind me. My car slid slowly
sideways and down, coming to rest gently against the corner of another car. No
damage except I had a neat full moon dimple about 20" across in the door. I
bought a rubber suction cup and popped out the dimple and felt real proud of
myself. About two weeks ago a friend of my son's showed up to pick him up. He
was driving his mom's Volvo station wagon with a very similar dent. I impressed
the hell out of everyone by pulling out that same suction cup and popping out
his dent. Not so much because I knew how to pop out the dent, but because I knew
exactly where a tool was I bought 20 years ago and hadn't touched since except
to move about 4 times. Packrat? Maybe, but it saved heavy body work costs both
times, and didn't take up much room. Either a guy has tools or he doesn't. - GWE
Bill Chernoff wrote:
...and they don't sell atlas lathes at sprawl-mart
I tell people all the time, I don't want cheap, I want quality.
I regularly spend too much of my income on quality as opposed to cheap crap.
Just imagine what the segment of our population with enuf $ to buy a $40K
motorcycle could do if they insisted on better consumer products...
I understand perfectly. Make sure to visit Granddad and tell him,
maybe show him the tool again, he will understand, too. And apprecate
it more than most of us can know. Great feeling, great story.
Just went down and checked the 16 W x 12 x 12" 5 drawer chest I use
to store drafting equipment. It was made by Grandad from wood salvaged
from dynamite boxes and orange crates. He even made the drawer pulls
from wood, although he did use nails (metal content) to reinforce the
glue. On the bottom of the first drawer he signed and dated it
July 11, 1953. My youngest carries this GF's pocket knife and the
other GF's Waltham pocket watch.
There are times when one wants to buy quality, and then there are times
when one needs a tool but does not expect to use it except for the
current task. What is annoying is not being able to find quality when
one wants and needs it.
Christ> > ...and they don't sell atlas lathes at sprawl-mart