The Next Bob Vila

One thing you have to admit about me is that I totally rock as a handy man.  I am the next Bob Vila.  I mean just last week I bought a new flat head screwdriver to fix a commode.  I bought this new one because I broke my old one using it as a chisel.  I could hear my old Auto Mechanics teacher from vocational school (see note below) saying, "Use the right tool for the job," whilst I was doing just the opposite.

Well, today we were walking down the street and I actually bumped into someone I know.  This rarely happens because I look just like all the other white people around here and thus I am fairly inconspicuous.  Anyway, this familiar face belonged to the man who made our kitchen cabinets.

He asked how we were we asked how he was.  Then he said, "How are the cabinets?"  Since he has no visitation rights.  "Actually," I said "one had a handle fall off."  And it had.  A drawer handle fell right off and after replacing it a few times, I swapped it with another from a cabinet since it was obviously stripped out.  I put the extra handle and screws in the cabinet to be handled at a later date.  Then since the handle I stole was from above the fridge, I forgot about it.

"Well, when can I come and look at it?"  I informed him we'd be home in 30 minutes if he'd like to come by.  Then I forgot about him, too.  

Well, he showed up and I led him to the offending handle giving him all the spare parts.  He asked if I had a screwdriver.  Of course I do and a small ladder, too, for easy reaching above the fridge.  Then he quickly attached the handle and pulled on it.  Fine.  No ... more than fine.  Strong!  He looked at me like I was an idiot.  I felt like an idiot.  Heck, I am an idiot.  Then he just shook his head and walked away leaving me with my new screwdriver and my shame.

I went back and pulled the handle myself, expecting it to come off in my hand but it didn't.  Guess there goes my chance to be on HGTV....

(Now for the note:  Many of you may be shocked to know that I, said Handy Man, took not one but two years of Auto Mechanics in high school.  This decision was a deeply calculated move on my part.  I asked around what program had the highest co-op rate.  Turns out it was Auto Mechanics!  So I signed on and found various ways to slack off and get three hours credit in the mornings.  Its amazing how much you can sleep under a car if you can wedge your hand up in the engine and pretend to be working.

Well, finally my senior year rolled around when people get to co-op.  In the old days that meant you left school and went to work.  I think they scrapped that stuff nowadays since there is more of a focus on "learning" at schools.  The great thing was I had a job at G-Auto, an auto parts store where I worked evenings and weekends.  The trick was to work at least 20 hours a week to co-op but it seems it didn't matter when.

That meant each day my senior year I got to leave school at 10:30.  I could go and get a McDLT, which kept the hot side hot and the cool side cool.  Then go home and watch Geraldo! [this was after all 1987].   I could go co-op and work late in the afternoon because the school didn't need to know what time I was working now did they?

So that is the story of how I got out of school with neither an education nor the ability to change my own oil.  The moral of the story?  17 year-olds should not be allowed to make their own decisions.  End of note)