I've always felt that a "real man" ought to be able to do just about anything, and I grew up wanting to be a real man, so there is almost nothing I will not do myself. Framing, drywall, finishing, tile, concrete, ductwork, landscaping, plumbing, electrical, rebuilding every single subsystem on my cars...you get the picture. I once took my car to a shop to get the air conditioning fixed. I ended up getting into an argument with the service guy over him wanting to charge me for the refrigerant he had removed from my car, and he told me if I didn't like it, I could go buy my own AC machine and other tools, get EPA-certified and fix it myself. So F-him, I did.
I credit my father for my passion and zeal; not because he's handy, but because he's extremely un-handy. He's not FOB, but 2nd generation Chinese. He was a EE, and I'm a ME. As I grew up I saw the occasional over-the-barrel episodes of his life. Every time he needed something done, he would have the contractor or whoever seemingly salivate while writing up the invoice. He once went in for a tune up and ended up paying over $2k for things like engine flushes. The car wasn't even worth that much. And usually this was after trying to fix things himself (which was probably the tip-off to the guys getting rich off him). I recall he once tried to wedge a toothpick into a broken belt tensioner to try to get the belt to stay taut ("Pop that won't last 2 seconds, let alone another 90,000 miles"). Another time, when I was about 6, my father and I went to the hardware store to get a replacement for the rusted-out tail pipe on his van. We left with--and I am not making this up--a 12" length of white PVC pipe. My father slipped it on the van right there in the parking lot, and off we went. I remember very clearly, while sitting at a red light during the drive home, my father glanced in his side mirror, swore under his breath, and then just hopped out of the van right there in the middle of the street as the light turned green. He got back in about 20 seconds later, with horns blaring, carrying this white amorphous blob of hot melted plastic. The smell was excruciating.
I have more tools than what ought to be legal for anyone who works in an office; my father, on the other hand, had a $2.99 40-piece socket set that he absolutely treasured as the be-all, end-all tool set. I quickly learned that if you overtighted a bolt with his sockets, the socket would split, rather than shear off the bolt head. I grew up thinking this was how it's supposed to work. You can't imagine my surprise when, around age 20, I overtightened a bolt with my USA-made starter socket set, and the bolt head sheared right off. I thought to myself, "hey, these fasteners are defective!!". I mean, the socket didn't seem to stretch even a bit!
In my youth I either broke or lost most of the contents of my father's prized socket set, and I caught hell for it. At one point, around age 30 (having turned a LOT of wrenches by that point), I made it very clear that the gig was up for him...that I now knew that his tools were utter crap, and that I most likely did not deserve to be yelled at all those times for breaking his tools. It has kind of become a joke between us in my adult years.
I was at an estate sale a few weeks ago, perusing a garage that was filled to the gills with tools. I was impressed by the sheer quantity, and that's really saying something. But my excitement turned to disappointment in 4 seconds flat, as the tools were either 40 years old and too ancient to be very useful, or they were the bottom-of-the-barrel cheapest things you could find at Harbor Freight. I was not interested in anything there, except for 1 item: On one table in the middle of the garage there was this small tool set. A blue stamped sheet metal case that I recognized immediately as the same 40-piece socket set my father had. I opened the case, not expecting much, but lo and behold, every single piece was there. None were broken. Even the vacuum-formed plastic cover under the metal lid was in 1 piece. I simply could not believe it, this thing didn't look like it had been opened, let alone used over the past 35-40 years. I bought it, of course (for $10!--seriously??? wasn't it just $3 brand new???), and will be sending it to my dad for father's day. Thanks Dad.
I credit my father for my passion and zeal; not because he's handy, but because he's extremely un-handy. He's not FOB, but 2nd generation Chinese. He was a EE, and I'm a ME. As I grew up I saw the occasional over-the-barrel episodes of his life. Every time he needed something done, he would have the contractor or whoever seemingly salivate while writing up the invoice. He once went in for a tune up and ended up paying over $2k for things like engine flushes. The car wasn't even worth that much. And usually this was after trying to fix things himself (which was probably the tip-off to the guys getting rich off him). I recall he once tried to wedge a toothpick into a broken belt tensioner to try to get the belt to stay taut ("Pop that won't last 2 seconds, let alone another 90,000 miles"). Another time, when I was about 6, my father and I went to the hardware store to get a replacement for the rusted-out tail pipe on his van. We left with--and I am not making this up--a 12" length of white PVC pipe. My father slipped it on the van right there in the parking lot, and off we went. I remember very clearly, while sitting at a red light during the drive home, my father glanced in his side mirror, swore under his breath, and then just hopped out of the van right there in the middle of the street as the light turned green. He got back in about 20 seconds later, with horns blaring, carrying this white amorphous blob of hot melted plastic. The smell was excruciating.
I have more tools than what ought to be legal for anyone who works in an office; my father, on the other hand, had a $2.99 40-piece socket set that he absolutely treasured as the be-all, end-all tool set. I quickly learned that if you overtighted a bolt with his sockets, the socket would split, rather than shear off the bolt head. I grew up thinking this was how it's supposed to work. You can't imagine my surprise when, around age 20, I overtightened a bolt with my USA-made starter socket set, and the bolt head sheared right off. I thought to myself, "hey, these fasteners are defective!!". I mean, the socket didn't seem to stretch even a bit!
In my youth I either broke or lost most of the contents of my father's prized socket set, and I caught hell for it. At one point, around age 30 (having turned a LOT of wrenches by that point), I made it very clear that the gig was up for him...that I now knew that his tools were utter crap, and that I most likely did not deserve to be yelled at all those times for breaking his tools. It has kind of become a joke between us in my adult years.
I was at an estate sale a few weeks ago, perusing a garage that was filled to the gills with tools. I was impressed by the sheer quantity, and that's really saying something. But my excitement turned to disappointment in 4 seconds flat, as the tools were either 40 years old and too ancient to be very useful, or they were the bottom-of-the-barrel cheapest things you could find at Harbor Freight. I was not interested in anything there, except for 1 item: On one table in the middle of the garage there was this small tool set. A blue stamped sheet metal case that I recognized immediately as the same 40-piece socket set my father had. I opened the case, not expecting much, but lo and behold, every single piece was there. None were broken. Even the vacuum-formed plastic cover under the metal lid was in 1 piece. I simply could not believe it, this thing didn't look like it had been opened, let alone used over the past 35-40 years. I bought it, of course (for $10!--seriously??? wasn't it just $3 brand new???), and will be sending it to my dad for father's day. Thanks Dad.
