Huge Toolbox Giveaway Contest--Too Funny

[JSK]

FREE Toolbox Giveaway Contest--Too Funny

Alright you creative writer types out there, this one’s just for you.

As our customers will happily attest, Ranger tool boxes and chests are worthy of all the quality accolades given to the Snaps and Macs of the world. But as they say, talk is cheap. We’re itching to prove it.

So, we’re throwing a contest and giving away our Super-Wide Toolbox Set for one lucky aspiring wordsmith. This super-sweet cabinet combo has a $1,500 street value, and of course we’re shipping it to the winner free of charge.

Go ahead and visit www.rangerproducts.com for product details, or just check out the eye candy below.



(1) RTB-13DC - 13 Drawer Super-Wide Tool Cabinet On Casters
http://www.rangerproducts.com/products/boxes-and-benches/tool-storage/rtb-13dc.php

(1) RTB-8DT - 8 Drawer Super-Wide Open Top Tool Chest
http://http://www.rangerproducts.com/products/boxes-and-benches/tool-storage/rtb-8dt.php


Here‘s the deal:

• Post your original story in this thread. Somewhere within should be a reason as to why you are deserving of such a spectacular offer.

• Make the story fact or fiction, we don’t care. BUT, it’s got to be a narrative. We’re not looking for lists or essays here folks. Oh, and for all of you contemporary types, we'll also accept poems and haikus.

• If you aren't writing a poem or haiku, we'd like to see about 300 or more words. Not a novel, but something substantial.

• Get crazy, get creative, but most of all make sure it’s hilarious. Humor is the single best way to increase your chances of winning. Our interoffice chuckle-meter should be going nuts by the time we’re done reading your post.

• Naturally we’ve got final say, but we welcome Garage Journal readers to chime in to sway us with their picks.

• After you receive your free gift, we ask (pretty please) that you take some photos and post something about your new adventures with the toolbox set. In essence, apply those wicked writing skills one more time and review the unit.

• Post as many stories as you like. If you’re willing to put in the time and effort to compose a well-written, hilarious short story, we’re more than happy to read it.

• The contest ends at exactly 5:00PM, PST, July 31, 2009.

• Oh yeah, and no plagiarism. We’ll be checking to make sure there were no copy / paste jobs. We KNOW how funny you guys can be.

Ready...Set...Go!

Jeff
BendPak / Ranger

 

[LGMechanical]

Question. This this US only?

 

[JSK]

Domestic (48-states) FREE shippng only.
Sorry, I forgot about our friends up north.
I'd be happy to ship to nearest border town though.

Jeff

 

[LGMechanical]

I am near Toronto. Area code is 905. Just wondering if that would be out of the question.

 

[plinker]

My current tool boxes I have outgrown, too many tools and not enough room,

The bottom box is a Craftsman that is black but was blue,

When you open one drawer you get two,

To say it came from a junkyard is probably true,

But it works and thats all I can do,

The upper box is a Snap-on true,

It's from the 80's and nowhere near new,

But size does matter when your out of room,

To win a new box I'd be happy as he!!,

And if I don't, oh well...

 

[LGMechanical]

My true tool box story:

So why do I think I need this box? Well when I first started diesel mechanics my dad gave me his old Mastercraft box. It was already beat up, dented, and scratched up. He had it from new and used it for almost a decade before giving it to me. He gave me a some tools to start off with from Princess Auto ( Kind of like Harbour Freight in the US). That was 7 years ago. Guess what? I still have it. The top box is in decent condition but the roller cabinet is a total write off. You have to shake the drawers to open them and sometimes they slip off the rails..

Over the years I have stocked up on tools. Snap-on, Mac, etc. Quality stuff. I even bought a decent 3 drawer service cart. So I have all these nice chrome, flashy tools but my tool box looks like it's been ran over by a truck. One day I lost my tool box keys. I searched what I thought was everywhere and have to stop because there was plenty of work to be done. I was borrowing tools from my co-workers all day hoping I would find my keys.

All of them finally got fed up with me using their tools and told me that I have to go and rip out my lock. I refused. But then they refused to lend me tools, so off I went to rip the lock out After taking one last look around for my keys I pryed it with a bar, smashed it with a hammer and chisel (missing a few times and hitting the box). After all that abuse the lock finally came out and I opened it and began working although I was not happy.

At the end of the day I headed upstairs to change and wash up. Still frustrated I hop into my car and reverse out of the parking spot and what do I see in front of me? Yes, my keys..... Apparently I had them on my lap just before getting out of my car and when I stood up the fell on the ground and underneath the car. So now all those tools are unprotected and I won't be able to afford a new box any time soon.

I even eat lunch down stairs in the summer time when all the bay doors are open because I am paranoid of a customer looking into my box as it has happened before.

-Luke

 

[mechamunch]

Oh wow, Garage Journal gets literary. Nice!

 

[Rolling_Thunder]

Is it ok to include pictures as part of the story?

 

[babzog]

My Tool Tale

So I had just landed my first job at a local shop, doing fluid changes, brakes and other misc work. I had a decent collection of tools but no real box in which to store them. The only boxes I had are two little totes from years gone by, in which everything is just piled in. Trying to find any of the tools required for a job meant dumping the box on the ground and examining every socket and wrench for the right size. Needless to say, this added at least 20 minutes to each job - not the best way to make money!

The local tool truck guy came by one day and saw me with my sockets all over the floor, again, cursing and griping about how much I hated this, again. He razzed me, yet again, about how I need a real box and how he had the right one for me in the truck. That shiny new box I'd picked out of the catalog, the one that offered me the best use of the space for organizing my collection (cue the Heavenly Chord). Disgusted with my predicament, I tell him, fine, bring it in and I write the cheque for all I had earned and saved to date.

This is where it all turned south. Seems he and some of the guys had a chat the week before and arranged a little surprise for me. As I was throwing everything back in my plastic tote, clearing the space for my new box, the dealer brought it in. There it was, covered in a nice, glossy, dark blue cover, with the manufacturer's name stitched on. I crack a smile, knowing my days of frustsration are finally, though expensively, over.

The cheque is handed over, a receipt is given and the cover is removed to reveal my box.... in a lovely shade... of... PINK?!?

The rest of the crew were falling over themselves with laughter. The truckie had a big grin on his face and managed a sympathetic chuckle or two. What is this, guys? You're new box! You took so long to pick it out, my wife picked her wedding dress in less time that you did your box!

Apparently, they all pitched in a bit to bring the cost down to what I was quoted, which was all I could afford. Now, here I was, a tech amongst men, with the most horrid looking pink box in the shop. This thing stuck out.. customers in the fishbowl could see it, shining at the far end of the shop and would wonder "where's the girl with the pink Barbie Box?"

Though the box is technically great, the joke has long since passed and I've since grown my tool collection to stretch its storage capability. I've tried to cover it over with stickers but that only goes so far. I hope you select me for your box giveaway - my pride and my tools will all thank you for it!

 

[mechamunch]

I had trouble finding this thread today. Can we have it sticky'ed?

 

[Ruiner]

*Author's Note*
Read this story as if it were spoken by Bruce Campbell in the Army of Darkness/Evil Dead film series...if you have no clue what I mean, then you're surely missing out on an aspect of the story, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it...oh, and this is purely fiction...well, most of it...

The squirrels have taken over commando style...you see, it all went down like this...I live in the countryside, alone and peaceful with my 3 legged dog Lucky, and he's definately the dumbest animal to have ever graced this planet...now Lucky was also unfortunately physically handicapped, as well as stupid, so when he began chasing squirrels he'd frequently hurt himself further by forgetting he was missing a leg and essentially throwing his body weight onto a limb that wasn't there, all the while the squirrels stood there laughing at him...now I would walk out in the yard and pick Lucky up, bring him back to the house and fix him up, only to watch him do it again the next time the squirrels teased him...the final solution? It was time to dust off an old friend, the Smither XS-490 air rifle and 9x32 scope and do me some squirrel slaying...now, all went well for the first few days, pickin off furry little pranksters from 100 yards away or more, but what I didn't know was these weren't ordinary squirrels...you see, there's a government research facility not 5 miles down the road, and as it turns out, an entire platoon of super intelligent "living dead" prototype test subjects had escaped some years back, and as luck would have it those are exactly what I've been shooting at...as soon as I would "kill" one and pick it up and put it into the garbage can, the little zombie-like ba$tards would escape from the garbage can unbeknownst to me and hide inside my garage (which up to that point had been an anti-squirrel fortress of tranquility), and in the ensuing days of massacre some 20 squirrels had infiltrated my safe haven...on the 11th day of the killing is when they struck, using every bit of their increased intelligence they picked the lock on my toolboxes, confiscated my rifle from the top tool chest and have armed themselves with my arsenal of hand tools...I believe they are building a device to destroy mankind, but I can't get close enough to my garage without alerting their sentries...all I ask is that someone delivers a strong toolbox that can store some tools without being susceptible to squirrel invasion, and I'll be sure to take care of the rest...I can and will save the world, but first I need a toolbox that can save my tools from the squirrels...

 

[chrislehr]

The squirrels have taken over commando style...you see, it all went down like this...I live in the countryside, alone and peaceful with my 3 legged dog Lucky, and he's definately the dumbest animal to have ever graced this planet...now Lucky was also unfortunately physically handicapped, as well as stupid, so when he began chasing squirrels he'd frequently hurt himself further by forgetting he was missing a leg and essentially throwing his body weight onto a limb that wasn't there, all the while the squirrels stood there laughing at him...now I would walk out in the yard and pick Lucky up, bring him back to the house and fix him up, only to watch him do it again the next time the squirrels teased him...the final solution? It was time to dust off an old friend, the Smither XS-490 air rifle and 9x32 scope and do me some squirrel slaying...now, all went well for the first few days, pickin off furry little pranksters from 100 yards away or more, but what I didn't know was these weren't ordinary squirrels...you see, there's a government research facility not 5 miles down the road, and as it turns out, an entire platoon of super intelligent "living dead" prototype test subjects had escaped some years back, and as luck would have it those are exactly what I've been shooting at...as soon as I would "kill" one and pick it up and put it into the garbage can, the little zombie-like ba$tards would escape from the garbage can unbeknownst to me and hide inside my garage (which up to that point had been an anti-squirrel fortress of tranquility), and in the ensuing days of massacre some 20 squirrels had infiltrated my safe haven...on the 11th day of the killing is when they struck, using every bit of their increased intelligence they picked the lock on my toolboxes, confiscated my rifle from the top tool chest and have armed themselves with my arsenal of hand tools...I believe they are building a device to destroy mankind, but I can't get close enough to my garage without alerting their sentries...all I ask is that someone delivers a strong toolbox that can store some tools without being susceptible to squirrel invasion, and I'll be sure to take care of the rest...I can and will save the world, but first I need a toolbox that can save my tools from the squirrels...

Keeping for OT.

 

[e-tek]

I am near Toronto. Area code is 905. Just wondering if that would be out of the question.

Lemmeesee......You're the first and loudest in a contest for a Ranger toolbox, yet you have a GIANT SnapOn sign as your signature????? Great reason for the promoters to IGNORE your entries!!!

 

[LWW]

e-tek, you read my mind!

 

[revlover]

Just recently I returned to work after a few weeks in the hospital. Glad that chapter in my life is behind me.

Being in the electrical trade business, I find myself working at a variety of different job sites. Some underground, some above. Our company performs electrical contracting services for small businesses as well as large commercial and industrial facilities needing as much as 6,000 amps of continuous power or more via multiple breaker panel installations. Many times I find myself working on multi-story buildings.

In December of last year, I was working on a four-story office building installing a Lennox L-Series packaged rooftop AC unit. For most large jobs I transport my tools and KNAACK storage chests to the job site. The box set and tools are my own personal property.

After four days of rooftop work and blistering sun I completed the job. In typical fashion, I found myself the lone worker at the job site just as the sun settled. I packaged up my tools and locked the boxes and proceeded to haul them to the freight elevator for the lonely trip down. Of course the freight elevator was inoperable. Did I really expect anything less? It was a Friday night and I was stuck on a rooftop with an hour to get to my daughters dance recital. Nonetheless, I kept my composure and searched for an alternative means of rooftop extraction. I already knew of the maintenance ladder chute on the east corner but that was only good enough for me. There was no way in hell I was leaving my tools.

Lucky enough, I located a swiveling rooftop crane that I presumed was used for hauling light loads to the roof. It was a stationary unit with a 1500-pound capacity and single boom. It had a hydraulic piston in addition to a ratchet hoist but the gears were jammed and the handle was frozen solid. Next to the crane was a large nylon webbed tarp thing that I presume was used for lifting multiple packages of stuff. It was a little weathered but looked strong enough. I figured my tool box set weighed about 400-pounds total so the crane was more than capable of doing the job. There was a single nylon rope that looked plenty long enough to reach the ground and back.

Being the MacGyver type, I simply unwound the nylon rope from the winch spool and routed the rope over the pulley at the end of the boom. I threw the long end of the rope down the side of the building and it landed in a bunch on the ground next to my pickup truck. I hurried down the maintenance ladder and secured the end of the rope to my hitch ball using a truckers knot. Being a small frame person, just less than 150 pounds, I found the ladder trip more nerve-wracking than physically challenging.

I hustled back to the roof and proceeded to wrap the nylon sling around the box set as best I could. I could have wrapped the box set completely, but there would not have been enough left to reach over and attach to the nylon rope. I managed to loop the sling through the middle of the box set leaving enough to reach over and attach to the rope at the crane. It may not have been perfect, but I figured would be balanced adequately for the trip down. I used another truckers knot so that I could take all the slack out, then I jacked the crane high enough for me to swing the load out over the side of building. My KNAACK set swung out over the side and balanced perfectly. Pamela, Daddy’s on the way!

I took my last trip down the ladder and hurriedly went over to the truck and yanked the truckers knot so I could gently lower my prize package to the ground.

Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly I lost presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the building. In the vicinity of the second floor I met the box set coming down resulting in a collarbone fracture. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately, by this time I regained presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope in spite of the excruciating pain.

At about that same time, the box set hit the ground landing on the front hood of my pickup truck. The nylon web disrupted and tossed the heavy box over the left front fender of my truck but the smaller box remained bundled. Devoid of the weight of the heavy box I then began a rapid decent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the second floor, I met the box coming up resulting in a broken ankle, two broken ribs and lacerations to my face and torso.

The encounter with the ascending box slowed me enough to lessen my injuries as I landed on the large box resting near my truck. Fortunately, only my left knee was broken and spleen ruptured. However, as I landed there in a daze staring helplessly at my tools hovering four stories above me, I again lost my presence of mind and let go of the rope. The small box hurtled down the side of the building and landed on my right arm tearing flesh and breaking almost every bone.

Although still suffering from the trauma of the accident, I am able to return to work. Most of my tools weathered the storm but the KNAAK set was destroyed along with my pride.

Please, please consider me as a worthy candidate.

 

[revlover]

Lemmeesee......You're the first and loudest in a contest for a Ranger toolbox, yet you have a GIANT SnapOn sign as your signature????? Great reason for the promoters to IGNORE your entries!!!

Yeah, that's pretty funny... at least he could've taken the logo out before posting!

 

[wantedabiggergarage]

I remember that myth. I believe Mythbuster's did an episode on it as well.

 

[texmln]

Written with a big nod to Carl Spackler…

So, I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a wrencher at a shop over in the Himalayas. A wrencher, you know, a mechanic, a grease monkey, a wrencher. So, I tell them I'm a pro wrencher, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. Very hands on, likes to assist. So, I'm on the oil drain plug with him. I give him the socket driver. He hauls off and spins it free -- big wrencher, the Lama – and sends it flying long, into a ten-thousand foot crevice, right at the base of this glacier. And do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga...gunga -- gunga galunga. So we finish the oil change and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive a Ranger Super-Wide tool cabinet as the final step in your path to total mechanicness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

 

[Ruiner]

Funny, but I consider that plagiarism...that'd be like telling the Spicoli story from Fast Times at Ridgemont High and saying "My dad's got the ultimate set of tools in his Ranger box, we can fix it."

 

[ietech]

Re: FREE Toolbox Giveaway Contest--Too Funny

Where are these boxes manufactured???

Thx - Rich

 

[shocksystems]

Just recently I returned to work after a few weeks in the hospital. Glad that chapter in my life is behind me.

Being in the electrical trade business, I find myself working at a variety of different job sites. Some underground, some above. Our company performs electrical contracting services for small businesses as well as large commercial and industrial facilities needing as much as 6,000 amps of continuous power or more via multiple breaker panel installations. Many times I find myself working on multi-story buildings.

In December of last year, I was working on a four-story office building installing a Lennox L-Series packaged rooftop AC unit. For most large jobs I transport my tools and KNAACK storage chests to the job site. The box set and tools are my own personal property.

After four days of rooftop work and blistering sun I completed the job. In typical fashion, I found myself the lone worker at the job site just as the sun settled. I packaged up my tools and locked the boxes and proceeded to haul them to the freight elevator for the lonely trip down. Of course the freight elevator was inoperable. Did I really expect anything less? It was a Friday night and I was stuck on a rooftop with an hour to get to my daughters dance recital. Nonetheless, I kept my composure and searched for an alternative means of rooftop extraction. I already knew of the maintenance ladder chute on the east corner but that was only good enough for me. There was no way in hell I was leaving my tools.

Lucky enough, I located a swiveling rooftop crane that I presumed was used for hauling light loads to the roof. It was a stationary unit with a 1500-pound capacity and single boom. It had a hydraulic piston in addition to a ratchet hoist but the gears were jammed and the handle was frozen solid. Next to the crane was a large nylon webbed tarp thing that I presume was used for lifting multiple packages of stuff. It was a little weathered but looked strong enough. I figured my tool box set weighed about 400-pounds total so the crane was more than capable of doing the job. There was a single nylon rope that looked plenty long enough to reach the ground and back.

Being the MacGyver type, I simply unwound the nylon rope from the winch spool and routed the rope over the pulley at the end of the boom. I threw the long end of the rope down the side of the building and it landed in a bunch on the ground next to my pickup truck. I hurried down the maintenance ladder and secured the end of the rope to my hitch ball using a truckers knot. Being a small frame person, just less than 150 pounds, I found the ladder trip more nerve-wracking than physically challenging.

I hustled back to the roof and proceeded to wrap the nylon sling around the box set as best I could. I could have wrapped the box set completely, but there would not have been enough left to reach over and attach to the nylon rope. I managed to loop the sling through the middle of the box set leaving enough to reach over and attach to the rope at the crane. It may not have been perfect, but I figured would be balanced adequately for the trip down. I used another truckers knot so that I could take all the slack out, then I jacked the crane high enough for me to swing the load out over the side of building. My KNAACK set swung out over the side and balanced perfectly. Pamela, Daddy’s on the way!

I took my last trip down the ladder and hurriedly went over to the truck and yanked the truckers knot so I could gently lower my prize package to the ground.

Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly I lost presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the building. In the vicinity of the second floor I met the box set coming down resulting in a collarbone fracture. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately, by this time I regained presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope in spite of the excruciating pain.

At about that same time, the box set hit the ground landing on the front hood of my pickup truck. The nylon web disrupted and tossed the heavy box over the left front fender of my truck but the smaller box remained bundled. Devoid of the weight of the heavy box I then began a rapid decent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the second floor, I met the box coming up resulting in a broken ankle, two broken ribs and lacerations to my face and torso.

The encounter with the ascending box slowed me enough to lessen my injuries as I landed on the large box resting near my truck. Fortunately, only my left knee was broken and spleen ruptured. However, as I landed there in a daze staring helplessly at my tools hovering four stories above me, I again lost my presence of mind and let go of the rope. The small box hurtled down the side of the building and landed on my right arm tearing flesh and breaking almost every bone.

Although still suffering from the trauma of the accident, I am able to return to work. Most of my tools weathered the storm but the KNAAK set was destroyed along with my pride.

Please, please consider me as a worthy candidate.

Now that is an excellent story! Great job!

 

[babzog]

Now that is an excellent story! Great job!

Barrel of Bricks

 

[shocksystems]

Barrel of Bricks

Good catch. I guess that rules that story out.

Jim

 

[e-tek]

Good catch. I guess that rules that story out.

Jim

Sad sad sad - one of the first posts and not only is it plageurism, but of a oft-repeated tale. Likely not a college grad, or he would have done a better job of choosing a tale. It's telling of how Western society has evolved - just have someone else "make it" and try to posper anyway...

Hopefully the rest of the entries will at least be original.

 

[PistolWhip]

In 31 years of life, I've never had anything that I considered a "lucky" charm. Never really had a lucky shirt or a lucky key chain, never won the lottery or even a poker game. Heck, if it was rainin *****, I'd find a way to get hit in the head with a ****.
It never really came to me though till today, guess I never really thought about it. Somethin I had almost my entire adult life has been my lucky charm all a long and I didn't even know it. Strange that it hits me when it does, as I'm runnin down the street in nothin but my whitey tighties and a pair of greasy socks pushin my Ranger tool chest down the road. You see a few minutes earlier I was showerin up for a nice dinner with the lady friend and got a surprise Bar-BQ instead.
Unbeknownst to me my ol'lady apparently found a receipt in my sock drawer for $5k worth of tools and immediately realized that I had spent her ring money... So as I was steppin out of the shower I hear a strange roar coming from the back yard. I throw on a pair of draws and peak out the back window to see the "love of my life" standin over a pile of what appears to be....well everything I own. Did I mention it was on fire?
By this time, she sees me and makes a B-line to the garage. Oh no, not the tools! Without a second thought I rush to the door. As I hit a full sprint to the garage door I catch, out of the corner of my eye, a pile of my clothes tumbling across the yard. Luckily the ***** tripped on my guitar case which she had earlier used to drag all my stuff out of the house, HAHA KARMA!. She was all wrapped up in my pants for the first time in months and I had my shot at beating her to the door. My mind screams in silence as I raise my arms and do my best "Rocky at the top of the Art Museum steps" impression. I did it, I beat her to the garage! Now I have one goal "gotta save the Ranger, GOTTA SAVE THE RANGER!" Like a starved fat kid chasin a cake truck my man-power drives my determination to levels to that of an NFL full-back on the 1" line. I blast through the door, summons some super human mom lifting a car off her baby kinda strength and drive my treasure chest out the bay door like a Lambo on Nitrous. On the way out, I grab an old pair of socks that I had been using as rags and slip into them on the run.

By the time I get to the end of the block I'm starting to think that I have finally found my X-man power, cause my face is as red as my Ranger... That's when it hits me, I stuffed a fresh pair of dickys in the bottom drawer of my roller the day before. I quick slip into the overalls and of course, I look allot less suspicious now than I did before. You know, a 6-4, 240 lbs. dark complected guy pushing about 5 1/2 feet of bright red tool box down the street in a full Jason Voorhees overall set... Anyway, back on topic.

With nowhere to go, I just keep pushin till I come to the closest pay phone. Funny though, by this time I had completely forgotten about all my stuff being burned and my girl blowing her stack. All I could think of was how smooth these casters rolled. I mean seriously, I just pulled this monster 3 blocks barely breaking a sweat. They still look bran new too! 466 lbs empty and trust me, she ain't empty no more, 21 drawers of my most prized possessions, all safely secured in silky smooth ball bearing assisted drawers. Strong rolled edges, chrome handles, electrostatic oven baked powder coat, mmmmmmmmm....
Oh yeah, sorry, back on topic...

So I get to this run down fuel station and hop on the phone. Since I got no money and my cell phone was one of the appetizers in the Bar-BQ, I tried calling everyone I knew.....collect. Guess I didn't make many friends over the years, nobody wanted to accept the charges accept my Snap-On guy and he just kept asking me where his money was. Even with all this, I still can't stop smiling when I glance at my Ranger. Just as I make my last failing call, I see headlights coming my way over the horizon. My luck might be changing, a truck! Thinking fast I place my box in a safe place and dart out into the street and wave him down. Well to my pleasant surprise, the him is a her and it ain't no pick up truck! It's Danica Patrick's hauler and holy ****, Danic's driving it.....I know, Danica Patrick drives her own hauler, crazy right??
So now I'm kinda speechless and I see her looking over my shoulder with a seductive gaze. I'm like what the deuce, this chick doesn't even see me. I mean, I'm a pretty good looking dude in a Ricky Bobby kinda way. Who's standing behind me, Carrol Shelby or something?? Then it hits me, its my BOX! She sees my Ranger! So I run over and get it and roll it over, "it's mine, yep, its mine." She's all like "It's a RTB-13DC topped with a RTB-8DT!" And I'm all like "chhh yeeeah." So now that the ice is broken, I unleash my David Hasselhoff charm and I'm like, "We're kinda stranded, think you could give us a ride?" She nods, and down comes the ramp at the back of the truck. As I roll my best friend to the back of the truck, I can't help but see that Danica is now staring at me as I walk away....alright well maybe it was the Ranger, whatever cause it was swweeeet!...

I load up my chest, strap her down, kiss her on the lid and then run back up and have a seat next to Danica in the cab. We hit it off, I mean she was diggin me, I was diggin her, it was like fate. Then it gets quiet for a minute and she starts to lean over to me. Oh man, this can't be happening, I'm thinkin. This chick can drive a dam semi truck with no hands cause she's taken off her shirt as she leans over. I uncontrollably shout "THIS IS THE COOLEST DAY EVER!" As I threw my hands up in the air in pure elation, that's when it happened. I fought it with every fiber of my being, but I couldn't stop it. I was waking up!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Ok, ok, relax... It was too real to be a dream....well ok, danica was driving her own hauler, but it could happen. It could happen right? I look to my right and my wife's lookin at me like I have two heads and is like "so you must have been dreaming about our wedding day right, the coolest day ever?"

As I shook the sleep out of my head, reality firmly slapped me in the face like a stripper with a sudden case of morals. I jump off the couch, tossing my laptop onto the ground and quickly ran out to the garage. DAMMMMMM!!!!!! My tools are still stickin out of 5 gallon buckets like chrome SlimJims . I run to the back yard, just as I thought, nothin but tall grass and dog poop, NO, NO, NO... Next I run to the mirror, OH NO, NO, NOT THAT I'm 5'8" again! This can't be happening. Feeling defeated, I walk back over to my couch, sit down and pick up my laptop and the screen reminds me of what had happened. I had been surfing Garage Journal earlier in the day and came across a thread for a contest to win a free Ranger tool chest. I was trying all night to come up with a good story to tell so I could win this beautiful specimen of mechanical bliss and I fell asleep without typing a single dam word

So now I have to come up with a good dam story cause I need to win this contest. I need to have a Ranger to hide behind when I'm walking down the street in my draws and greasy socks. I need a home for my little babies so I can summon the super human strength to save them! I need a gorgeous tool box to catch the eye of Danica when she pulls up in her hauler! I gotta win, come on brain, you don't like me and I don't like you so lets just do this and we can stay out of each others way for a while.

 

[rsanter]

dont take this wrong, but I am going to cry hardship from the troubles of life.
I am not looking for anyones pitty, but a free toolbox would help make things in life look a little better. for some of you it may just be a reminder to not take what you have for granted.
approaching 6 years ago my wife was hurt at work ( knee injury). she has underwent several surgeries to help the problem but there is not true fix for it. the closest thing to a fix is a knee replacement but they have refused to provide that because she is too young ( their issue is that if they do one now, she will wear it out before she dies and they will have to pay for another one).
she has a pain management doctor to provide meds to aleviate the pain. the problem is that as things have gotten worse and the meds dont work as well she has had to go to stronger meds. the problem is that one of the meds as used at higher dosage over time caused damage to her stomache and intestines.
I will save you from the gory details but she has endured 2 surgeries to try to correct the problems and she has gone through the last 3 years of medical hell in the process.
because she has been unable to work, our finances have gone from easy street to tight as hell. I have heard lots of comments on this board as well as other places about how you have to plan ahead and not overspend, we did a fairly good job of that and if we had not we would have lost the house for sure. I can tell you that hardly anyone could be prepaired enough to last 3+ years of having your income cut in half on top of aquiring roughly $40k in medical debt.
the root of the problem is that while they took responsibility for the injury to the knee, they have fought the responsibility of the meds damage to her stomache even though the meds were prescribed by their doctor.
my family has been put through hell, I have sold 2 of my mustangs coupes as well as the recent sale of my ranchero and we have done out best to tough it out and stick together.
I guess what I am asking is that it would be nice to get a little positive in life when we have spent so much time in the negative. I have a couple of project cars that are sitting and waiting for better times and to ease the financial strain I have been doing some fabrication and machining jabs on the side to help make ends meet. I would live to have a nice new toolbox and it could even make things a little easier for me. like I have already said, it would be nice to have a little influx of good luck to counteract so much of the **** I have had to deal with.

Oh, and I am in california so that would save on the shipping

bob

 

[texmln]

I think you may have a winner with the Fast Times line! I like it.

I don't disagree, didn't figure on winning the box with that one, but I never pass up a chance to spread the Caddyshack gospel.

How 'bout a Fresca?

 

[makgreens]

ill throw one in here i suppose

im an unemployeed student who is trying to get into the wrenching game
been trying to for about 5 years....and still no luck
im trying to build a car or 2 and use all my money from odd jobs on used tools and used boxes
basically eveything i own thats worth anything is older than me by a good number of years and that includes my boxes
the 3 boxes i have are all old and beat up...bought em off craigslist what else can ya expect
the boxes are full with "tools" and ive resorted to cramming everything in my biggest box...which is a 12 drawer mac but is the real small series from the early 80
i also need a bigger shop but thats not part of the gift

i also work on trucks and so on at my fire department and it is quite a pain having to throw a ton of tools in a backpack and hope you have all you need for the day
itd be really nice to have a big toolbox at home and my smaller box at the firehall!

basically i just need a bigger box to help be presentable for people who bring their cars to me for oil changes,etc or for the few people im building stuff for.....
not to mention give me some space for more tools

 

[LGMechanical]

My signature should have nothing to do with it. I'm not going to get on my knees and slap a ranger signature on. If you are not posting an entry or a vote then why are you posting at all? To show how good of a detective you are by pointing that out? People these days...

 

[Ruiner]

I think Danica Patrick might trump the zombie squirrels...damn...

 

[BigRed390]

Great stories so far! Mine doesn't involve any double-breasted matress thrashers driving semi's full of fast cars, but it is actually a true story.

I worked at a fireworks store for about 5 years. This store will remain nameless, though there is a lurker on here who participated in the following rogue behavior.

Fireworks stores by nature aren't very busy places in the off season. Let me re-phrase that. They're dead about 9 months out of the year. In an 8 hour shift in september, you're doing good to see a customer. Maybe two. Maybe. Our entertainment during these times included a selection of 5 vhs tapes, dinner from the low-class steakhouse next door (at half off!!! ), a 40 of bud or Steele Reserve from the gas station about a block away, and wrenching on our broken rides in the warehouse under the roll-up door. On this fateful day, I decided to change my oil, as it was several miles overdue. Pulled the S-10 blazer in and brought out the tool bag and the oil container. My tool bag was a Harbor Funk $3.99 special. Yellow and black. About big enough to put a crescent wrench and a can of skoal in if you were good at packing stuff. I literally had a thumb wrench, two bent coat hangers for pulling ford radios with, a cow bell (don't ask), a reversible screwdriver, and a roll of 16 guage wire. Maybe a roll of black tape. Can't remember. SMALL bag. Myself and my co-worker get to work crawiling under the aforementioned vehicle. Yep. There's the plug. Crescent wrench! Tightened wrench, turned bolt, re-tightened wrench. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Finally got bolt out (it was an oversize self tapping wonder-bolt, so it was a ***** to get out straight on this particular pan, especially when partially intoxicated from the previously mentioned 40 of steele reserve.

Oil plug out, hit the catch-pan, no drips on the floor, NICE!!! On to bottle # 2 while the oil drains, then back under the car. Oil filter wrench!..... I said Oil filter wrench!!!..... I hear those dreaded words... "Ain't got one. Wanna try the cowbell?" Nope. We search the store for a screw driver, find one in the office after half an hour, punch it through the filter, spin it, replace filter, top off oil. Great! Dinner time! Unfortunately, we didn't plan for the time spent searching for a screwdriver, so the steakhouse is closed. Dammit. What now? My co-worker just happened to be a National Guard medic, so he said "I've got a few MRE's in my trunk! We'll eat those and save our $3 for more beer!"

We popped those out, ate them cold, and went back to VHS tape # 3. Shortly after this, a friend of ours came by (visitation was a great thing. Kept you from going crazy from 8 hours of boredom.) We shot the bull for a while, but MRE's and steele reserve being what they are, they did what they normally do to anybody. I went from laughing at th 90th watching of the fast and the furious to fast and furiously searching for a magazine to read on the *******. Got my newest Hot Rod and headed for the can.

So there I am, fart fan on, door locked to keep drunken friends from opening the door with customers in the store, magazine wide open. I'm in the middle of a scowl-inducing article on pending emissions legislation when I hear a splash and two drunks laughing outside the door to my throneroom. There's a clear liquid seeping under the door along the tile floor. I've seen this trick. You splash a thin layer of alcohol on the floor and light it. It flares up, goes WHOOSH, and frightens the victim. Not so simple this time. SPLASH. More go-go juice pours under the door. WHOOSH. here's the fire. Keep in mind, we're surrounded by a showroom and a warehouse full of CHINESE-MADE GUNPOWDER!!!

I calmly put my magazine down and assess the situation. Flames. Alcohol. Meh. It'll burn itself out. Except the flames are up to the doorknob in height. The paint is peeling, oh wait, now there's exposed wood, and yep, it's on fire too. I hear a thoughtful "Oh ****. I told you not to pour that second round on it!" from the other side of the door. "Stomp on it! That'll put it out!" they say. Stomp, stomp.... "MotherF*&^%$ my shoe's on fire!" Laughter. And I'm trapped in a locked bathroom with waist high flames.

I quickly wipe, pull up, latch belt, and hide my beloved half-read Hot Rod under the counter. I ran water on my hand and quickly grabbed the doorknob. Got it unlocked and open, jump back to get out of the fire, and there stand the two perps. Except they've splashed half the outside of the door trying to coat the floor, and it's on fire too. I pull my best drunken indiana jones and leap through the flames to join them. We all stand there dumbfounded when finally the floor burns itself out. The door? Still on fire. After a few whacks with a carhart jacket, it too is out, though blackened like Cousin Eddie's barbecue. We scrounge up some sandpaper and scuff the black off of the door, re-paint with whatever we found in the warehouse, and open the front doors for ventilation. Management never knew anything about it.

The lesson to be learned here is not that beer, rubbing alcohol, and MRE's don't mix. It is a simple matter of analysis. If I had a nice new ranger toolbox to put tools in, I would have had space for an oil filter wrench. If I had space for one of those, we wouldn't have wasted half an hour looking for a screwdriver, and if we hadn't wasted that half hour, the steakhouse wouldn't have been closed and I wouldn't have eaten that MRE, which started the whole mess. I hope this serves as a warning to those under-equiped in the toolbox department. You never know how it can affect your life!

 

[mechamunch]

Great stories so far! Mine doesn't involve any double-breasted matress thrashers driving semi's full of fast cars, but it is actually a true story....I hope this serves as a warning to those under-equiped in the toolbox department. You never know how it can affect your life!

This, sir, was a good one.

 

[cgc]

My tool chest (if you want to call it that) story.

I am not a mechanic by trade, but I have had a infatuation with cars since the time I was 10 and watched a red 1969 Fastback Mustang pull up to a light by a friends house. I was immediately in love with the car that sounded like it had a war going on under the hood. So much so that I literally ran out into the street to ask the guy what kind of car it was. He told me and revved the engine up at me (which startled me to the point of making me jump back for a second and I think I peed myself a little). It was at that point I KNEW I had to have one of these cars.

Well, when I was 17 years old, I bought and started working on a project 1969 Fastback Mustang - my dream car - my life I thought was complete. So, as a nice thing to have as I started this endeavored, my girlfriend bought me a small Wal-Mart (top and bottom) tool chest - Awwww, that was so sweet of her. Not exactly what I wanted quality wise, but it was nice of her and it suited the need at the time. I just thought to myself, as I get more tools, one day I will get something nicer. So, I lined the drawers, waxed it up so it looked nice and put what few tools I had neatly in my new tool chest. I was ready to start working.

After only 6 months of working on the Mustang, my girlfriend started to "voice" (read: complain) that she was feeling neglected and jealous of the car. At one point she made the comment that she wished she had never bought me that tool box because she now felt like she was indorsing my actions. Honestly, I wish she wouldn't have bought this tool chest either because the lack of quality was more than obvious now. But I knew, one day, I would have a nicer one. However, being young and dumb, I cut back the time I worked on the car to appease her. Unfortunately, over time she still felt neglected to the point where I ultimately sold the car for $700 to shut her up. Again, young and dumb makes you do....well.....DUMB stuff.

Flash forward 12 years in my life, four other Mustangs and in the life of my little Wal-Mart tool chest. To follow up on the young and dumb stuff, yes, I had been married to the previously mentioned girlfriend this whole time *sigh* (yeah, yeah....I know). Anyways, still, no matter how much or how little I tinkered on the cars it was always an issue. All this time this psycho (er, my wife) would take her frustration out on my tools and my tool box which I still had not upgraded. I guess she really had some hard feelings about buying me that thing. If she was mad, while I was gone she would come up with some reason to "use" a tool and in the process, slam the drawers, or dent the side (which I have yet to figure out how she managed those dents). She had nailed something together and I guess didn't like the way it looked, so she decided to try and bang the nail back out on top of my tool box because there is a sweet nail head dent in the top. I have had my electric screw driver (with the Philips head bit) used as a drill and used (while being beaten with a hammer on the back end) to punch holes in drywall for pictures. Open end wrenches FORCED onto a bolt with a hammer to the point of bending the closed end on the opposite side. Just complete abuse of the tool chest and anything within it. Now you may ask "why didn't you lock it to keep her out of it". See, this is where the level of quality and abuse by said psych...er....wife...comes into play. The lock just did not last long on the tool chest, or believe that I would have locked it.

Well, over time - with age - one is no longer "young" and hopefully not as "dumb". But the marriage finally came to an end - sadly not before one final tirade from the woman who apparently just hated tool chests. In one desperate act of 12 years of penned up anger - ok, well, not exactly penned up - while I was at work, she decided to take a drive. What you need to understand is that the drive was with my little Wal-mart tool chest tied to the back of her car. The nut job decided that she would teach me a lesson (that lesson is still unclear at this point). From what I was told by the neighbors, she drove up and back on our street dragging my tool chest like a out of control water skier slinging tools all over the neighbors yard. I was able to find about half of my sockets but some tools I think she just took to a pawn for drug money (seriously).

I say all that to say this; I still have that little tool chest and I still use it...well, parts of it. One of the drawers on the bottom chest pulls out strait, although you have to yank the **** out of it to get it all the way out. The other two doors close at random angles. The big lift up door on the front of the chest looks like someone tried to bowl a strike through it or shoot it with a cannon - your call on that. The top chest, has the nail dent in the top lift up lid, and one hinge is so bad it doesn't close all the way making it look as if my top chest is trying to burp at you. Not to mention the multi colors of paint where she decided to paint something on it instead of using a piece of cardboard on the ground. Two of the top boxes drawers don't open while the other two are again able to be opened, but you have to just about use a come-along to do so. I honestly don't remember what tools I had in the two drawers that won't open, but when the day comes when I can replace the box, I'll probably just take an axe to it because I've tried everything else I can think of to open them - and it's a no go. The bottom chest is missing two casters, which obviously could not have come off the same side, but are diagonal from each other. So, the box is up on scrap pieces of 4x4 and it has a nice drunken wobble to it. The paint on it looks like a skate boarders skin after trying to ride over street covered with landscaping rocks....it's just road rashed up like crazy. I tried to paint it, but....eh.....it still looks like road rash.

My new and improved wife (with 100% less psycho) is a lot more patient then the last model. She does not mind me working on the cars and with us in the process of moving she and I have agreed for me to set the new garage up as a shop. I am going to build some work benches, install some florescent lighting, paint the walls, seal the floor etc, etc. I would love to be able to finally be able to move a new tool chest in to this garage but as most of you know, building a house cost some money. So, the tool chest will be placed on the back burner for a bit longer. Shoot it's been on the back burner for 19 years, and I've utilized some plastic hand held tool boxes but it drives me crazy not to have a good tool chest. So, I guess until that day comes where I can plop down a couple of grand for a good tool chest I will keep utilizing what I have - that is - unless I were to win that beautiful Ranger Tool Chest. Ah, to dream.

 

[babzog]

With the contract signed, I was on my way to a new job and a new life. For a little while anyway. I needed to get out of Dodge for awhile after after jettisoning some excess baggage, if you catch my drift. A couple of hours before, movers had come to pick up and transport my tools to the airport for loading. They carefully loaded the tool boxes into a large crate, secured everything for the long journey, loaded the crates into their truck and headed off. I wouldn’t see my tools again until I arrived at my destination.

Once on the plane and my precious cargo safely stowed, I settled into my seat, buckled up and got comfy. Hopefully, I could pass much of the flight asleep.

Three hours into the flight, I was awakened by a violent jostling, sounds of alarm from nearby passengers and I could hear the captain on the intercom, frantically telling everyone to get back to their seats. The plane bucked again, more violently than before and I felt like a great weight was pushing me into my seat. Immediately after, the plane shook again, opening some of the overhead compartments and spilling the contents, raising more cries and shrieks. Then, the plane began to fall; I could feel the belt tightening in my lap as I was pulled from my seat.

Another shudder from the plane, less intense this time and our descent slowed and stopped. There were a few more episodes, which grew more infrequent and less intense. The captain came on the intercom and told us we’d flown through a storm that had intensified faster than forecast. He said the plane was fine, all systems were normal and we were proceeding on schedule I opened my carry-on and took a hit from a bottle of single malt I’d brought with me.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful, and I even managed to doze off once again. Once the plane landed and all passengers were cleared for entry, I was alerted by an official to come with him. We went out to the plane where the workers had just opened the cargo hold. My heart sank and I could feel the pounding in my head. During the storm, with the plane being tossed around like a leaf, the crate holding my tools had come loose and my tool boxes had crashed about in the hold. The smaller boxes were broken open and several of the testers, computers and hand power tools were smashed beyond repair. My large box, laying on its front, had faired a little better than the rest but it was skewed to one side, twisted and two drawers had been pulled free. The rest of the hold was littered with my tools, wrenches, sockets, files, nuts, bolts.

I called for a trash bin and began to catalog what was obviously broken before tossing it. The workers helped me gather up the remainder of my tools, get them into my box and off the plane... there are schedules to keep after all. Once off the plane and in a holding room, I reset the drawers in my box and continued to catalog what was broken, what was missing, etc. I had brought a list of the tools I’d brought so this was completed quickly. I quickly dialed my insurance agent and gave her the details of what happened and what was lost.

As I was preparing to leave, my contract authority opened the door and walked in. Lt Peters was tall, average build and bald as a cueball. Instant brothers. We shook hands, he expressed pain for my losses (the tools, not the reasons for my being here) and we loaded the remaining box onto an APV for transport to the town where I’d be working, servicing the local police and ambulance vehicles.

As we left the airbase, he told me some of the ways of the country, the weather, the local customs, topics and behaviours to avoid, etc. After a while, we just shot the breeze about home, cars, girls, fishing, where to go for a drink, etc. The driver suddenly screeched to a stop and yelled "RPG! Everyone get out!" We quickly bailed out and ducked into a ditch for cover. Moments later, I felt the shock wave and heat roll over me as the rocket hit the APV, launching it and my tools skyward. A socket thudded into the ground by my nose... I could read the inscription on it: 7/16 USA. Was that a scratch on the side? Wonder if I could get that replaced under warranty? Lt Peters was yelling at me to keep my head down. I grabbed my socket and did exactly as instructed.. mama didn't raise no fool. He made his way to his men and did what he does best: take control of the situation.

I don’t know how long I remained there but eventully, I heard footsteps approaching. Lt Peters helped me up and explained this was not typical of what I’d expect to see, but was not entirely unexpected either. I knew that when I signed the contract but didn’t really expect to see it first hand.

I turned to look at the APV... which was on fire and almost completely obliterated. There was no sign of my toolbox. I scanned the area but didn’t see it. I found a few more tools scatter about so I began to gather my things up once again. During my search, I located my box, behind the third vehicle in our convoy. It had been ripped almost in half by the force of the explosion and had landed on its top. If it were not for the shock of what had just happened, I probably would have been mad or upset. As it were, I just sat, dumbstruck on the road as I recalled my bottle of 18yr old single malt was in that APV.

A few of the guys helped me scout around. We located quite a few of my tools and surprisingly, many of them were intact and seemed to have suffered no damage. I only found a few other sockets beside the one that landed beside me. Once we arrived at the town and I was settled into what would be my apartment while working here, I left a message with my insurance agent and hit the sack for much needed rest. I was awoken the next day to some not so great news from my insurance agent. The losses suffered on the plane would be covered, minus the damage to the plane caused by my tools not being properly secured in their opinion. Result: I break even, with no recovery for my losses. More serously though, the losses due to the attack would not be covered as I was in an active war zone. I'd have guzzled the rest of my single malt had it not been incinerated.

I hung up the phone. With what tools I have left stored in some ammo crates and spare bags the fellas were able to scrounge up, I made my way down to the job site and tried as best I could to set up shop. There were a few tools there that the locals used to maintain the vehicles but nothing in very good shape. Beggars not being choosers, I've done my best to make do.

I’m halfway through my contract and haven’t seen anything like that first day again. I miss my toolbox every day however and this contest has given me great hope. If I could have that wonderful Ranger toolbox, I’d be able to get things organized so I’m not working out of boxes and bags. I’d also have some security for my tools so I don’t have to lug them back and forth every day. And maybe, I could even order a few new tools to replace those I’ve lost.

 

[revlover]

Darn…the plagiarism police caught me!

Put a new twist on an old story. I was curious when the thread started and just wanted to keep it on track and keep it moving. I think I got what Jeff meant and the earlier threads were missing the point. Good stuff so far.

And when I get the time, I’ll post another.

Not so much for the toolbox, but to show you I can right.

 

[djd99]

In 31 years of life, I've never had anything that I considered a "lucky" charm. Never really had a lucky shirt or a lucky key chain, never won the lottery or even a poker game. Heck, if it was rainin *****, I'd find a way to get hit in the head with a ****.

LMAO great story.... Don

 

[Ruiner]

How did all the sob stories make it in here? I thought the premise was humor and laughter...I might have to write another story a few beers from now...

 

[ovilla]

My tool chest (if you want to call it that) story.

I am not a mechanic by trade, but I have had a infatuation with cars since the time I was 10 and watched a red 1969 Fastback Mustang pull up to a light by a friends house. I was immediately in love with the car that sounded like it had a war going on under the hood. So much so that I literally ran out into the street to ask the guy what kind of car it was. He told me and revved the engine up at me (which startled me to the point of making me jump back for a second and I think I peed myself a little). It was at that point I KNEW I had to have one of these cars.

Well, when I was 17 years old, I bought and started working on a project 1969 Fastback Mustang - my dream car - my life I thought was complete. So, as a nice thing to have as I started this endeavored, my girlfriend bought me a small Wal-Mart (top and bottom) tool chest - Awwww, that was so sweet of her. Not exactly what I wanted quality wise, but it was nice of her and it suited the need at the time. I just thought to myself, as I get more tools, one day I will get something nicer. So, I lined the drawers, waxed it up so it looked nice and put what few tools I had neatly in my new tool chest. I was ready to start working.

After only 6 months of working on the Mustang, my girlfriend started to "voice" (read: complain) that she was feeling neglected and jealous of the car. At one point she made the comment that she wished she had never bought me that tool box because she now felt like she was indorsing my actions. Honestly, I wish she wouldn't have bought this tool chest either because the lack of quality was more than obvious now. But I knew, one day, I would have a nicer one. However, being young and dumb, I cut back the time I worked on the car to appease her. Unfortunately, over time she still felt neglected to the point where I ultimately sold the car for $700 to shut her up. Again, young and dumb makes you do....well.....DUMB stuff.

Flash forward 12 years in my life, four other Mustangs and in the life of my little Wal-Mart tool chest. To follow up on the young and dumb stuff, yes, I had been married to the previously mentioned girlfriend this whole time *sigh* (yeah, yeah....I know). Anyways, still, no matter how much or how little I tinkered on the cars it was always an issue. All this time this psycho (er, my wife) would take her frustration out on my tools and my tool box which I still had not upgraded. I guess she really had some hard feelings about buying me that thing. If she was mad, while I was gone she would come up with some reason to "use" a tool and in the process, slam the drawers, or dent the side (which I have yet to figure out how she managed those dents). She had nailed something together and I guess didn't like the way it looked, so she decided to try and bang the nail back out on top of my tool box because there is a sweet nail head dent in the top. I have had my electric screw driver (with the Philips head bit) used as a drill and used (while being beaten with a hammer on the back end) to punch holes in drywall for pictures. Open end wrenches FORCED onto a bolt with a hammer to the point of bending the closed end on the opposite side. Just complete abuse of the tool chest and anything within it. Now you may ask "why didn't you lock it to keep her out of it". See, this is where the level of quality and abuse by said psych...er....wife...comes into play. The lock just did not last long on the tool chest, or believe that I would have locked it.

Well, over time - with age - one is no longer "young" and hopefully not as "dumb". But the marriage finally came to an end - sadly not before one final tirade from the woman who apparently just hated tool chests. In one desperate act of 12 years of penned up anger - ok, well, not exactly penned up - while I was at work, she decided to take a drive. What you need to understand is that the drive was with my little Wal-mart tool chest tied to the back of her car. The nut job decided that she would teach me a lesson (that lesson is still unclear at this point). From what I was told by the neighbors, she drove up and back on our street dragging my tool chest like a out of control water skier slinging tools all over the neighbors yard. I was able to find about half of my sockets but some tools I think she just took to a pawn for drug money (seriously).

I say all that to say this; I still have that little tool chest and I still use it...well, parts of it. One of the drawers on the bottom chest pulls out strait, although you have to yank the **** out of it to get it all the way out. The other two doors close at random angles. The big lift up door on the front of the chest looks like someone tried to bowl a strike through it or shoot it with a cannon - your call on that. The top chest, has the nail dent in the top lift up lid, and one hinge is so bad it doesn't close all the way making it look as if my top chest is trying to burp at you. Not to mention the multi colors of paint where she decided to paint something on it instead of using a piece of cardboard on the ground. Two of the top boxes drawers don't open while the other two are again able to be opened, but you have to just about use a come-along to do so. I honestly don't remember what tools I had in the two drawers that won't open, but when the day comes when I can replace the box, I'll probably just take an axe to it because I've tried everything else I can think of to open them - and it's a no go. The bottom chest is missing two casters, which obviously could not have come off the same side, but are diagonal from each other. So, the box is up on scrap pieces of 4x4 and it has a nice drunken wobble to it. The paint on it looks like a skate boarders skin after trying to ride over street covered with landscaping rocks....it's just road rashed up like crazy. I tried to paint it, but....eh.....it still looks like road rash.

My new and improved wife (with 100% less psycho) is a lot more patient then the last model. She does not mind me working on the cars and with us in the process of moving she and I have agreed for me to set the new garage up as a shop. I am going to build some work benches, install some florescent lighting, paint the walls, seal the floor etc, etc. I would love to be able to finally be able to move a new tool chest in to this garage but as most of you know, building a house cost some money. So, the tool chest will be placed on the back burner for a bit longer. Shoot it's been on the back burner for 19 years, and I've utilized some plastic hand held tool boxes but it drives me crazy not to have a good tool chest. So, I guess until that day comes where I can plop down a couple of grand for a good tool chest I will keep utilizing what I have - that is - unless I were to win that beautiful Ranger Tool Chest. Ah, to dream.

OMG!!! This sounds like an episode of My Name is Earl! I can already picture the ex driving an El Camino with the tool chest kicking sparks out the back. So glad you moved on.

 

[cgc]

OMG!!! This sounds like an episode of My Name is Earl! I can already picture the ex driving an El Camino with the tool chest kicking sparks out the back. So glad you moved on.

Actually the psycho had a Cadillac El Dorado at the time....Not sure where one would tie a tool chest up to it, honestly....lol

 

[mechamunch]

How did all the sob stories make it in here? I thought the premise was humor and laughter...I might have to write another story a few beers from now...

"Humor is the single best way to increase your chances of winning. Our interoffice chuckle-meter should be going nuts by the time we’re done reading your post."

I guess you can post whatever story you like. They just advise that humor betters your winning chances over serious stories. I don't know if that means an excellent serious story won't win.