Luck of the Drill
Hanging blinds this afternoon, was reminded of just how mechanically inept I’ve always been.
It’s a shame, really. I like the idea of building things. My granddad, pap and brother, though a tad clumsy, could and can claim at least some degree of motor coordination. Drawing doesn’t count. Everything’s in slow motion.
Anyway, I was attempting to fasten a cubic retainer to the top of the window frame whilst juggling screw and rechargeable drill, picturing my doughy personage crashing through the new pane, splintering shin twisting the spigot and wasting water.
In the old condemned Third Street residence, I once endeavored to install an FM antenna procured for me by my late former father-in-law from the eave of a shuttered business next door.
But how to run the coax through the cinderblock wall? I borrowed Papa’s drill, crawled under the desk in my Study and began to bore. About two inches in I realized that the block I was drilling through had been filled with concrete and that my bit would go just past halfway.
All of 26 at the time, I naively opted to measure the distance from the outer edge of the door frame leading to the deck to the spot I’d dug in the wall. Following the strip of mortar three blocks from the floor, I measured upward to complete the other axis.
Lighting a smoke and stepping outside, I measured both ways to locate an adjacent point behind the azaleas and went to burrowing once more. About another two inches in and I began to realize what a hopeless farce I’d created. With a three-quarter-inch bit, if I was off just a fraction I’d be screwed.
What was I doing making holes in the wall? We’d not even been there a year. I’d have to buy some caulk or putty or something and patch everything up and repaint over that. The partial can in the storage shed had been thrown out weeks ago.
I finally reached the end of my chuck, Papa’s brand-new bit a chalky white and dull as a paper knife.
I put down the drill and peeked inside. I could just make out the BTO logo on an old album cover.
I said a little prayer of thanks that night, settling down to retool my presets.
It’s a shame, really. I like the idea of building things. My granddad, pap and brother, though a tad clumsy, could and can claim at least some degree of motor coordination. Drawing doesn’t count. Everything’s in slow motion.
Anyway, I was attempting to fasten a cubic retainer to the top of the window frame whilst juggling screw and rechargeable drill, picturing my doughy personage crashing through the new pane, splintering shin twisting the spigot and wasting water.
In the old condemned Third Street residence, I once endeavored to install an FM antenna procured for me by my late former father-in-law from the eave of a shuttered business next door.
But how to run the coax through the cinderblock wall? I borrowed Papa’s drill, crawled under the desk in my Study and began to bore. About two inches in I realized that the block I was drilling through had been filled with concrete and that my bit would go just past halfway.
All of 26 at the time, I naively opted to measure the distance from the outer edge of the door frame leading to the deck to the spot I’d dug in the wall. Following the strip of mortar three blocks from the floor, I measured upward to complete the other axis.
Lighting a smoke and stepping outside, I measured both ways to locate an adjacent point behind the azaleas and went to burrowing once more. About another two inches in and I began to realize what a hopeless farce I’d created. With a three-quarter-inch bit, if I was off just a fraction I’d be screwed.
What was I doing making holes in the wall? We’d not even been there a year. I’d have to buy some caulk or putty or something and patch everything up and repaint over that. The partial can in the storage shed had been thrown out weeks ago.
I finally reached the end of my chuck, Papa’s brand-new bit a chalky white and dull as a paper knife.
I put down the drill and peeked inside. I could just make out the BTO logo on an old album cover.
I said a little prayer of thanks that night, settling down to retool my presets.
posted by Jeff at 00:20
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