There's No Tool Like an Old Tool

Here's my garage's mascot, Speedy.

Found in an odd box my dad left behind, this bent, "Speed Master" ratchet wrench wormed his way into my heart. I think it was his smile and his inebriated, Phillips head screw eyes that won me over.

Not that my garage needs a name, it only services one vehicle, but if I had to give my space a title, then I'd call it "The Bent Wrench Garage" in honor of Speedy and my lack mechanical talent.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about tools. 

While I've been learning to wrench on my Bug, I've also found my garage to be lacking in basic necessities. So far I've had to obtain various styles of metric wrenches, metric taps, a breaker bar, cheater pipes, a line wrench, jack stands, a three ton hydraulic jack, screwdrivers in different lengths, a gas torch, a test light sensor, a trouble light, a feeler gauge... the list goes on, but you get the idea.  My pegboard and workbench are filling up, but there are so many more instruments that I have yet to discover that I need. 

But honestly, I don't mind buying tools. Sure, they're a means to an end, but each one has the potential to solve future problems. A quality tool is an investment in what lies ahead. But as Hamlet said, "Aye, there's the rub." What make a tool a quality tool?

When I was on the hunt for a torque wrench, I first went to the Sears website. I've been using the wrenches in my dad's Craftsman collection for years, so I thought I was being prudent. Luckily, I checked the customer product reviews first. Turns out many of the new Craftsman tools are not made the US. The new torque wrenches do not have lifetime guaranties, and they're made in China. Their reviews were terrible.

If you want a quality Craftsman wrench, then you have to buy one made in the USA. If you want one made in the USA, you have to buy a used tool.

Awesome. I love old tools.

My grandparents were farmers, and my dad grew up on their farm. I grew up "in town" - if you can call a group of 500 people a town - but I spent a lot of my youth around farmers. 

Some of my favorite memories of my dad and my grandpa include accompanying them to farm auctions. You'd pull your car onto the farmer's property and squeeze your vehicle between an oak tree and a corn crib. The land would be crawling with prospective buyers sniffing through stacks of cardboard boxes lined across flatbed trailers. As you walked through the rows of machinery waiting to be sold, the cool autumn air swirled the scents of pipe smoke, anticipation, and the loose-meat sandwiches being prepared in the farmhouse's kitchen. There would be homemade pies for sale, too. And the stove would be brimming with its last pots of chili to be simmered. The stove, once cooled, would be sold along with the bowls of soup it had produced.

Although they were a place of business, those farms reeked of comfort.

My grandpa's hobby was collecting and selling old hand tools, so that was our main focus. Dad also hunted for firearms, and I always kept my eye out for anything with wheels, but tools were a constant. After the sale, we'd unpack our finds, and I would take the corroded treasure to his "grinder" for a thorough cleaning. Here's a picture I took of it during our 2013 family reunion at the farm. It's been silent since '89 when Grandpa Glen died.

His grinder was just a wire brush and a stone wheel belt-driven by a scavenged electric motor, but it could make rust cry. My dad had one, too, and now I've got a grinder of my own. I'm pretty proud of mine.

Somehow I doubt that my grandfather's grinder ever had a random mix-tape of rap music lying nearby, but I could be wrong.

After years of cleaning, oiling, and handling old wrenches, screwdrivers, drills, and the rest of the ilk, I have acquired an appreciation and love for these old twists of metal. An older tool has a heft and a history that can't be found in a department store. It also has style. Look at the grinder in the above photo. See those elegant curves and the Art Deco influence? Do you think you're going to find that at Walmart?

Here's another example. I found this Craftsman 1/4-drive ratchet, with a "V"-shaped shifter, at a south-side flea market.

Its patent was assigned in 1959, and I'm pretty sure you can't find a sweeter looking wrench on any store shelf today. Plus, I own it. What do I mean by that? When tightening a nut, the ratchet's gear would slip. My suspicion was that it was only gunked-up, not broken. I used a needle nosed pliers to pinch the clip rings, and I opened the wrench to investigate.

Seriously, how many products can you buy today that provide an easy access to their internals? To quote MAKE magazine, "If you can't open it, then you don't own it." After soaking for a few minutes in a solvent, the ratchet's parts were reassembled. I added some fresh lubricant, and now the wrench's action is smooth and tight. See, this wrench is no longer a mystery. I know what's inside, and I can repair the tool if it's possible. I own my wrench.

Let's not forget this tool's style. Chrome plated with brass accents, this is one sexy wrench.

And that's not a look everybody can pull off.

"Speedy! What are you trying to do? Stop arching your back like that and get back on the pegboard! You're embarrassing yourself!"