Dear Good Hours.
Long sad story short, I had to declare my daughter’s car unsavable. The deeper I went the more rot I found. Bolt heads so shrunken by rust the correct size socket would just spin on them. Other bolts, in semi protected places were turning the heads off even though they looked fine.
Yes I know the ways to get these broken bolts out, but the end question is the effort and cost involved as I got deeper and deeper into the project. I called the kid and we talked it over, and made the decision. Then I opened a bottle of Irish whiskey and filled my rocks glass a few times over while I cleaned and put away my tools.
Turns out the little tool tote I made Here makes a semi decent worry stool.
while I was drowning defeat and cleaning up I had time to think more about something that frustrated me during the car work.
I have a pretty small automotive tool chest for a guy who does a decent amount of his own work. I inherited it from my Grandpa Ray. It still has the label with his name and address he stuck to the front of it. When I got it home and cleaned up, I added my own name and address label underneath his. It means a lot to me to be working out of his chest.
The thing is organized and stuffed like a turkey and that means there is a lot of weight in each drawer. That means I would curse myself out every time I’d look and see I’d left one of those drawers open at full extension. I knew it was just a matter of time before the slides would get damaged. I really didn’t want that.
I tried to school myself to be better. Apparently I’m impervious to doing better when I’m hyper-focusing. I tried to shop around for a second tool chest, but those SOB’s are expensive, even on the used market. People are treating their old tool chests like they’re collectible sneakers or Stanley cups.
I finally came to another answer, I have another automotive chest in the shop, just the lower half. It used to hold the automotive tools before I outgrew it and moved them into grandpa’s. Now it held all my drill bits in three organized drawers.
I decided if I moved the drill bit trays back out of the drawers, I could move some things over from grandpa’s chest and lighten the load. That meant I needed to construct a place to hold my trays of bits.
It was a fun little one day build. I used some pine I had laying around for the case and some scrap 1/2” MDF for the shelves and I did not take one single picture or take one single note outside of the measurements and rough drawings in my sketchbook. Every once in a while it is nice to just put your head down, turn the Black Crows playlist up loud, and just hammer out good work at pace.
I ordered 4 more matching tackle box trays and when they arrived I rearranged the working shop wall a little, moved the small tool caddy off the wall and under the window. Cut up some 1/4”thin scrap oak left from a resaw and attached them as a back, then I cut a French cleat and hung the sucker on the wall.
Not completely satisfied yet, I’d lost the space I used to keep my drills under the window, I decided to slap together a storage spot for them underneath the unit.
I’ve never really liked the way these type of “cordless tool organizers” look, but the idea is sound and it used up another piece of scrap plywood. I moved all my screwdriver bits and some other small tools into the shelf and managed to fill all but one bin. It’s good to have some extra space just waiting for purpose. Something will fall in there.
So there. The rank odor of failure replaced by the wholesome smell of sawdust and sweat.
Love Derek
Ratione et Passionis
That little tool tote that you’re sitting on in the pic looks like it came in handy. Should have made it with a cup holder on one side if you’re gonna use it like that! You should put one on there just to confuse the living hell out of people when you use it as a tool tote.
It sucks when you have a total failure (though to be fair the car was the failure not you) and I’m always amazed at how much of a funk it puts me in until I have more wins under my belt. Glad to see you moving the ball forward, and getting back on the horse.