Hold on. Don't let go. Don't throw that away....
Love song?
Perhaps not in the traditional sense.
I grew up in a home and work environment where you made do (not deux) with what you had. My Dad used to say, "there is no such thing as can't." Honestly? He was (and is) 100% correct.
I remember my grandfather pulling nails out of a board and carefully straightening them and storing them in a coffee can to be used later. I remember going to the local "dump" and taking all the hose clamps off the junk cars there. We used to sit around the wood stove in the shop I still own in the winter (between cutting loads of wood) and cut old bicycle and car inner tubes into rubber bands.
The community center in the town I live in used to have a bi monthly rummage sale to raise funds for community projects. Unwanted items and clothing were brought to the center and sold. My dad had an arrangement with the director of the community action program where any clothes that went unsold for more than two months were brought down to the shop. As a kid, we would sort these into the type of cloth they were made of and cut into either oil rags or window washing rags. Once soaked with oil, they were thrown in the wood stove for added heat. I grew up in this shop always with bags of old clothes in a corner waiting to be sorted. When I bought it from my dad, I waited a couple years before hauling about 50 garbage bags of clothes to the dump. He has never asked me about them, although I know he noticed their absence.
Any piece of steel or iron that was even half way straight and of a good enough size was thrown under the work bench or on the scrap pile to be used for who knows what at a later date (and you would be shocked at what was used). When my dad taught me to stick weld at about 8 years old, I had plenty to practice on. I remember him being furious with me when he went to grab a piece of iron from the pile and he found that it had been welded to the piece underneath it, which was welded to the piece next to it and so on....damn waste of steel and welding rod he muttered as he took the torch and extracted what he needed.
I tell you, bored reader, as a self justification for some of the shit I have and some of the attitudes I have. I tell you because it makes me feel better in spite of the heresy I have committed.
My shop has become cluttered. This is not my way, in spite of what you have read above, but things have gotten away from me. I have not been able to use my milling machine for a while...or my lathe...Stuff has started to take over. This became painfully apparent recently. My wife's vehicle needed a fuel pump replaced, which involves dropping the gas tank (Detroit Engineers should all follow the lawyers to the firing line.).
Not wanting to do this lying on my back on a cement floor, I needed to get the vehicle on my hoist. My hoist is a two post Weaver in floor that was installed in 1938. I had not used it in over a year...mostly because stuff (useful, necessary, don't tell me I need to throw it away stuff) was piled in front of it. But also because a nagging hydraulic leak on the rear post had me nervous.
I found a company that is actually still making seal kits for Weaver Hoists and ordered one and rebuilt and bled the back post. Works great now...if I can get to it. My wife is tapping her foot and rolling her eyes because her fuel pump is still not changed no matter how proud I am of fixing the hoist.
It is time for me to eat my pain and begin the purge. I wrote about cleaning my garage a couple years ago in a group blog I am in and probably should point you in that direction, but, like my own little treasure hunt, I will let you find it for yourself.
For the record, I am not a hoarder. I am not a hoarder. I am not a hoarder....no..most definitely not. However, my youth has shaped my adulthood and there are things I have saved, that I honestly cannot tell you why or what possible use they could have in the future. Actually....four pickup loads of stuff went to the dump or scrap pile.
I am happy to say that my wife's vehicle has been repaired. I can access my milling machine and my lathe. It is honestly pretty nice. A relief actually. At least it is until I realize that I pitched something I needed...
You will have to excuse me now, because I need to go make some rubber bands.
