kavisiegel
Active member
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2013
- Messages
- 30
I grew up in my parents garage. I had a bedroom too and later the basement apartment, but since I was about 14, I was asking my parents for rides to Harbor Freight and messing around with my (immobile at the time) truck.
Fast forward 10 years. Stainless steel rolling tool chest packed full, around the floor you'll find 2 BCS tractors with most of the available implements, top of the line saws, freshly insulated walls, a jackhammer, tens of Acro-Mils bins on stainless steel wall shelves for organization of thousands of fasteners, adhesives, sandpapers, hand tools. A purpose built shelving unit for my Rubbermaid tubs, filled with accessories for the 4-stroke pressure washer, dust collection, infrequently used tools with hard plastic cases. 4 angle grinders, 6 drills, each with their own use and story. A 5 hp trash pump, used once to replace the pump in our irrigation well. Gladiator wall panels with brooms, cables, hoses hanging. 3" thick hand-built laminated 2x4 fir workbench, the surface planer I bought to level the boards right next to it, drill press to the left.
A song pops into my head, Bon Jovi - "who says you can't go home?" - I always loved that thought. My parents always said they'll be there forever, easy access to the highways, shopping, not far from anything. My mom has a bad shoulder and elbow from the landscaping she's done, but she loves the place.
I work in the city now (it's the only way I can afford these tools) and my sister just had a kid the next state over. My parents aren't going to be there much longer. I can't bring all of my stuff to a city. Realistically, I have a few more months with my stuff. I can't even finish my half-way projects.
I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. If I can't go back home and turn wrenches and cut wood, if I can't keep my tools for when I move back to the suburbs, if I don't have place to store my (once again immobile) truck, I can't quite ever finish building it, taking it on that trip across Alaska. I can't afford enough land in the city to feed my chipper/shredder, and I wouldn't even have enough place for a useful compost pile, let alone a garden. The years I spent learning the science of canning my parents harvest for them - I won't need that knowledge anymore. I have to sell everything that makes me who I am. Maybe I'll just quit my job while I'm at it and move to a different continent for a few years - I guess now would be the only time.
Fast forward 10 years. Stainless steel rolling tool chest packed full, around the floor you'll find 2 BCS tractors with most of the available implements, top of the line saws, freshly insulated walls, a jackhammer, tens of Acro-Mils bins on stainless steel wall shelves for organization of thousands of fasteners, adhesives, sandpapers, hand tools. A purpose built shelving unit for my Rubbermaid tubs, filled with accessories for the 4-stroke pressure washer, dust collection, infrequently used tools with hard plastic cases. 4 angle grinders, 6 drills, each with their own use and story. A 5 hp trash pump, used once to replace the pump in our irrigation well. Gladiator wall panels with brooms, cables, hoses hanging. 3" thick hand-built laminated 2x4 fir workbench, the surface planer I bought to level the boards right next to it, drill press to the left.
A song pops into my head, Bon Jovi - "who says you can't go home?" - I always loved that thought. My parents always said they'll be there forever, easy access to the highways, shopping, not far from anything. My mom has a bad shoulder and elbow from the landscaping she's done, but she loves the place.
I work in the city now (it's the only way I can afford these tools) and my sister just had a kid the next state over. My parents aren't going to be there much longer. I can't bring all of my stuff to a city. Realistically, I have a few more months with my stuff. I can't even finish my half-way projects.
I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. If I can't go back home and turn wrenches and cut wood, if I can't keep my tools for when I move back to the suburbs, if I don't have place to store my (once again immobile) truck, I can't quite ever finish building it, taking it on that trip across Alaska. I can't afford enough land in the city to feed my chipper/shredder, and I wouldn't even have enough place for a useful compost pile, let alone a garden. The years I spent learning the science of canning my parents harvest for them - I won't need that knowledge anymore. I have to sell everything that makes me who I am. Maybe I'll just quit my job while I'm at it and move to a different continent for a few years - I guess now would be the only time.
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