Fix it or let it go. What a question.
How much Goop, superglue, Duck tape, wire and string, splints and even the very best JB Weld, not to mention, TIME do we apply to something that is broken and may or may not be fixable?
I enjoy the challenge of repairing things. The satisfaction of putting things back together goes back to one of my very first “jobs”.
Already I have told you about the countless hours I spent sorting pop bottles back into their proper wooden crates. That is a task that no longer has to be done, since bottles aren't returnable and recycling is so very easy.
When my grandfather decided I had the sense and the strength to set about this new job, he waited till school was out and I had put in two good days of fishing and putting the yard in order. Then, he brought me a tool case, filled mostly with wrenches and ratchets and heavy flat-head and Philips-head screwdrivers. He also had some WD-40 and some heavy grease and a few punches and a two-pound hammer.
Papaw never did things lightly or casually and I knew something was up. He told me that a car was arriving later that day and my job was to take it completely apart. Bolt, nut, screw, spring, O-ring, hinge and every window and every knob. Cotter pins, brackets and the tiniest parts of the carb and electrical harness had to be removed.
Removed and sorted. Plus, with the mechanic's manual, I had to explain where the parts had come from and what they did.
This old car had Worsted wool seat covers and free-range Naugahyde here and there. I had coffee cans filled with the somewhat surgically-removed parts and learned how things fit and worked. I even got my buddy Curtis to come and help in the dis-assembly of this monster auto.
Finally, all that was left were the parts that had been welded together.
I looked forward every day to a new level of discovery. Even the lubricants and fluids became familiar smells and textures.
The other part of the deal was that I had to keep my work area clean, myself included. I learned it was best to have a shirt and some shorts dedicated to this job.
At the end of it we had a lot of metal parts, bolts, screws and little auto components in coffee cans and cigar boxes – all labeled.
The romantic end of the story would be that when I finished with taking it apart, he would tell me to put it back together and that would be my first car.
Nope, this was just an exercise in keeping my over-active self busy and teaching me to do what I was told. He also told me about auto factories and that probably 200 people had been involved in the assembly of that car. It only took one kid to take it apart. (After the summer, I knew what "torque" really meant.) I felt like I was the story never told on one of my favorite shows, "Industry On Parade". I'll bet YOU never watched that program as faithfully as did I.
The sheet metal was taken for scrap, the useable parts were sold to a junk yard and I got some muscles and knowledge out of the exercise.
Some things are worth fixing. Some things are beyond repair. Some things need to be let go.
As I approach my 61st birthday, I feel very much like an old auto. I do OK most of the time. I need frequent tune-ups and I can be driven, but gently please. Some day the cost of the repair will be too great and I just won't be worth it. But not TODAY!
Vintage Tim is OK – reading, writing, playing and still scrapping. I have a publicly known DNR and I am an organ donor, but I am not ready to part with anything just yet.
Many thanks to the mind of Bill Munzinger for his great illustration. I have kept that image before me for many years. I have tried to think things through before I took the SWING. Don't make a mess, unless that mess is just the really right thing to do.
By the way, I have a couple of bolts from that 52 Chevy, just in case someone might even have a need for them. © Tim http://www.timjohnsonphoto.com/
