Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Big Red Box

Twenty-five years ago in June, my father gave me what still ranks as one of the best presents ever.

When I graduated from high school and set out for Florida in an old Camero, dad thought it would be in his son's best interest to be properly prepared.

Unlike many things in my life, the tool box has remained a constant. It kept my car, my friends cars, and numerous bicycles alive. It built flat packed furniture and fixed leaky sinks. It crossed the country twice.

The set is still has most of its original parts. I've had to replace the 1/2 inch wrench several times. Why is it always the 1/2 inch? I have two now—just in case. And since the BMW is metric, I've made the preemptive purchase of a second 10mm.

I'd like to think that with age comes experience, but we all know that's not the case. It's only a mater of time before the 8mm walks off to find that 1/2 inch wrench I lost in 1997.

The contents of the box has grown over the years: a torque wrench, extra pliers, vice grips (you can never have too many vice grips), picks and probes, and one of those little magnets on a telescoping rod—very useful.

When my grandfather passed, I took in his orphans.

Over the years the tools have given me confidence and taught me patience. They made it easy to meet the neighbors in a new building.

Guys know what the red box means. Thank's dad.

1 comment:

Jeni said...

Well, thanks for re-appearing here in Blogland! If it hadn't been for the fact I added you to my reader quite some time back, I would have missed this post completely. Now, when are you going to take a trip and write about that?