My hammer.

I own a lot of tools. I have wrenches and screwdrivers, pliers and measuring tape. Some tools are multi purpose and others are a one trick pony.  I have tools to cut metal and tools to weld metal together. I can take things apart and put them back together. I have too many tools and not enough; collecting tools is an addiction and a necessity.  In my collection I have a favorite tool, my hammer. It’s not new and although I have rarely used it, it is quite worn. It’s not my only hammer; on the contrary I own many. I have hammers for driving nails into wood, roofing hammers, auto body hammers, small hammers and big hammers. But my favorite hammer is a mason’s hammer, and I don’t do masonry, but my Father did. Made for chipping brick, its heavy in the hand and the wood handle is split. In my father’s service for years, it now hangs idle on the wall in my garage and it shows its age. Inanimate and inspirational this hammer reminds me that hard work is always rewarding and that the scars we have only prove that we have lived.  



R&B, 70’s primarily. A tempo that makes my head feel lose and disconnected from my shoulders. My foot taps and I have to stop and listen. Marvin, Earth Wind and Fire, T.O.P. The Isley brothers, and Teena.  Anything by Teena Marie and this 5 foot 9, tattooed, self proclaimed car guy melts. Her music combined with that voice takes me to a place where for 4 minutes there are no politics, no bills, no traffic just sweet emotion.  When she sings I love you, She is singing to me.  I am the one that broke her heart, its me she is looking for and I am the one she will wait for forever. Her soulful voice enters a section of me I can’t control and touches the memory of a young boy and his first crush, a blank canvas, impressionable and innocent, perfect and new, her voice was the paint and her music the brush that left a permanent mark.



Hot Wire

I learned the hard way that red hot 0.23 welding wire will indeed penetrate leather welding gloves, more precisely the area surrounding the tip of my left thumb. Electric like a bee sting, the pain was a combination of the wire being volcanic hot and it puncturing skin and moving though flesh. I must admit the site of the wire entering one side of my thumb and coming out the other satisfied my morbid curiosity to the extent that I forgot about the pain for about half a second. That was a very interesting half a second, then the pain came back.  The wire was still connected to my welder and was sticking out of the trigger, burned a hole in my glove, passed though my thumb and stopped leaving about 3 inches of wire sticking out the opposite side with a sizzling piece of ME on the tip of the wire. I watched as this small sliver of protein went from a wet, crystal clear to dry opaque, if it was a piece of sea food I would have squeezed a lemon and called it lunch. I needed to disconnect myself from my welder, remembering I always carry a multitool on my belt I grabbed it and cut the wire at the trigger and pulled it out of my thumb all in one motion. The pain of the wire traveling though my thumb again, was even more intense then the initial injury. I need to cool the burn so I went into my garage and opened the door to my 1950’s Coldspot refrigerator usually reserved for my diet coke and stuck my thumb onto the ice that grows on the freezer walls. More pain. The ice eventually numbed my thumb and eased the pain, inspection time. My eyesight is not what it used to be so I keep a big magnifying glass on my work beach. Morbid curiosity made me wonder if I’d see a nice clean tunnel going though my thumb where the wire had passed, something like DIY body piercing. Perhaps I could put a ring though the hole and start a new trend in body modification. I could hang my keys from it and I would always have a place to put my pen. Nope, the hole had already closed and all I was left with was two off white dots on opposite sides of my thumb and a pair of gloves with a hole. Back to work.

thanks to Jd Massey for the photo.


since day one.

first post in my first blog. I am a car guy, my long suffering wife understands me and has accepted the fact that our back yard is my own personal junk yard. where there should be a lawn I have cement. I have removed trees because they dropped fruit on my car. 
this blog will be erratically updated at best. you might not want to hang around.