I avoid attempting to be philosophical about things. But I let too many things pass without being thankful. I was grateful for my rolling chest of tools late in the afternoon yesterday.
A peaceful moment of contentment overwhelmed me when I went to the drawer and found the exact tool I needed for the chore at hand. I also participated in a moment of solitary silence for the fellow who sold me —while under duress—that box full of tools. I’ll get to that.
I spent thirty years digging through various toolboxes in a range of sizes. I’d load them in the truck to take them to the camp in the woods and reload them for the trip home. I’d commonly forget the one toolbox holding the specific tool I needed at one location or another.
Often, I faced the dilemma of heading to the hardware store to purchase a duplicate tool because of my forgetfulness. It’s well over one hundred miles between camp and my home. It’s cheaper to buy a twenty-five-dollar set of crimpers than spend fifty dollars on fuel for a round trip to find what I had left behind.
I consider myself a handyman, but only out of necessity. I’ve always told my friends that my doctrine is “learn by ruining.” Oh, and I have ruined so many things.
For those who care and those who do not, I sought a tiny chrome pick configured with the handle of a miniature screwdriver. I was under the tractor’s hood; it’s a place where I don’t fit. I’m preparing the rig for what looks like it might be a record snow-blowing season. I’ve greased the bearings, the pivot points, the clutch, and the brake pedals. I changed the oil and hydraulic filters and checked the rear-mounted work lights.
The pressure in the enormous tires was spot-on, and there wasn’t much left to do except change one headlight bulb. I’ve avoided it for two years, but only because of YouTube. Men— with more extensive toolboxes than mine— have created how-to videos about the process. The video-makers said it could only be done by removing the entire headlamp assembly. I set out to prove them all wrong.
The short answer is that they were right. The long answer is that I spent well over an hour trying to overcome their dissuasion.
I ended up removing the headlamp assembly. The late afternoon light was waning, and I returned to the house to grab a flashlight; I started the process too late in the day. I do that a lot. I also needed a small picking device to detach the wires from a connector under the hood. I already had tried using the tip of a pocket knife. I worked far too long with that method.
In the third drawer down, I found a Craftsman pick and hook set. Someone else purchased it. I bought it from him in an intense moment of duress. You see, the toolbox was one of the last things he needed to sell to pay for an unexpected journey.
In short, the man came home early from another trip and found that his long-time partner had taken up with someone else. The couple had worked through most of the details by the time of the enormous garage sale, but the toolbox didn’t sell.
I got a call from a friend of a friend, and I was asked if I’d be willing to drive over to buy the box full of tools. That friend accompanied me to the house. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I was assured the couple was on the same page and I wouldn’t be entering the middle of a domestic dispute.
I never even looked in the toolbox. I could see that the rolling steel tool locker alone was well worth the asking price. It took three of us to load it into my truck, and I paid him a bit extra as I knew he was setting out on a journey to a new life far away. His ex-partner thanked me, and so did he.
The toolbox has had everything I’ve needed for the last five years. Last evening, it produced again. That man must have been a lot like me. I replaced the headlamp, shut the tractor’s hood, and put the pick back in its proper place in the drawer.
I realized it was the week of Thanksgiving. I lose track of time in retirement. I walked back upstairs, where my wife, working from home this week, was pounding out another email to someone somewhere.
I avoid being philosophical about things. I let too many things pass without being thankful. Sure, I am grateful for my pick and my rolling set of tools. Still, I am more thankful that I’m sleeping in a familiar place with a very familiar person. For today, at least, there will be no garage sale, and I’ll be keeping the tools.
Happy Thanksgiving from the Jagged Edge of America.
Tim Cotton
Thanks for all your support this year. I’m thankful to those who read my stuff, buy my books, and support my website. May you have all the tools you need in the coming year. Be well.
TC