
Garage Workshop
I walked over to my friend Steve's place the other day. Steve is that guy that almost every neighborhood used to have. Not so much anymore. When one's lawnmower won't start, Steve's the guy to get it going. Need a broken window pane fixed in your back door? Steve.
Steve's shop is Terrible and Wonderfull all at once.
It was late afternoon and the setting sun was blasting almost directly into his open garage door. The scene hit me like a fist! It was every garage workshop I had ever seen as a kid and adult.
A chaos of equipment, workbench, metal vises, wood vises, drill press. Nothing ever gets thrown away. There's a barbell set down there in the shadows somewhere.
Smells of oil and dust and gasoline. Cans of everything. Three-in-One oil, WD-40, Paint thinner, shellac. There's gotta be an old washing machine motor back there somewhere, rescued from the rusted out frame when his wife got a new one. Cuz, he might build something with that, someday.
The old, beat-up workbench has about one-half square foot of area to work on, if that. Screw drivers, wrenches, rusty tool boxes everywhere.
Sigh, wish I were Steve.
Rich