Sorry about last month’s lack of a new column. Like I told the editors, my computer has been having a problem keeping its wind-up rubber band tight and is so infected with viruses it should probably be condemned. It was too close to that issue’s deadline to have my usual blabbing in on time, but my son Ben (who knows way much more than me about techno stuff) managed to patch it up for the time being. I’ve been told it’s remarkable that this machine is still even working at all!! In a few years I might have the only antique personal computer still in operation. I hear that most people have to throw theirs out after 6 or 7 years and get a new one. But I’ve always had a hard time throwing anything out. Ask my wife Julie.
For instance, last summer we had a yard sale. To this day I still regret selling a few of the items. While we were in the process of setting up tables and stuff, before the sale even began, some old guy pulled in the drive and started looking through my garage, which wasn’t even open to the public. He noticed a WWII bayonet in it’s original scabbard I’ve had most of my life that was hanging on the wall, and asked how much I wanted for it.
“It’s not for sale. Only the stuff we’re spreading out in the driveway is for sale.”
“I’ll give ya $15.”
Well, my first thought was, ‘I’ll never miss it and it WOULD be good to be getting some bucks to start off the sale.’ So I said “OK” without any dickering. (I hate to dicker about anything except guitars and motorcycles)
A few weeks later I was at my barber’s getting my beard trimmed up and spied a similar bayonet on HIS wall.
“I never noticed that before. How long has it been hanging there?” I asked pointing to it.
“Oh, It’s been there for years. A few times people have offered to buy it, but I won’t sell.”
“How much have you been offered for it?”
“$175.00 from one guy, and when I absolutely refused he told me it was worth a lot more. He also said it would be worth even way more than that if it had the scabbard.”
AHHHH!!!!!
It seems every time I sell something, or even throw something away, I either finally find a good use for having it or I end up really missing it. Once my son Jason made me stay away while he cleaned out my basement because he knew I’d get weird about it. The next day I looked out my window and saw the neighbor across the street going through my trash on the curb and watched him haul away a whole bunch of stuff, so I guess I’m not the only packrat in the hood.
When I gave my Shovelhead to Jason I just assumed he’d want all the extra parts for it, and from it, that I held on to over the 25 years I rode it.
“Dad! What do I want this stuff for?”
“Well, ya never know when ya might need it.”
“Most of it is junk. Like this bag of crusty old burnt wiring.”
“OK. But there’s other stuff here.”
“Like what? Old coils? What good is an old coil if ya took it off because it was bad?”
“OK. But what about these handlebars?”
“They’re bent!”
“OK. What about this primary cover?”
“It’s scratched up!”
“OK. What about this seat?”
“It’s got a rip in it!”
“OK. Here’s a pile of blued-up exhaust pipes. This one set sounded great!”
He just looked at me and didn’t even answer.
On and on we went until he convinced me he really didn’t want to haul all this great, possibly useful stuff clear down to his home in Louisiana. For some time now he’s been REALLY customizing the old scoot, so later this year when it’s finished he plans on bringing up even more parts that he’s replaced. My plan is to vend at swap meets again. Since I rode that Shovel for all those years, I never wanted to part with any of it, but none of it will fit my Road King. So, ya might see me at a swap meet with Shovel parts soon (just don’t buy the crusty old wiring or the coils).
Every time my wife wants to toss out old scratched up pots and pans I tell her they’d be great for camping. We now have boxes of pans in the garage that are missing some Teflon (by the way, where does all that missing Teflon end up? Burp!) Once she tried to throw away an old gas grill that would be too expensive to fix. It’s now a plant stand on our deck. And hey, just about anything can become a bird feeder!
Every now and then I actually let her throw something away just to see her smile. She has such a wonderful smile. When she asked me what we’d ever do with sections of an old pool liner that was cut out when we had to get a new one, I let her toss ‘em. I recently gave in to her throwing away an old air mattress the cats ruined. Just last week I even agreed to her tossing a broom that had a perfectly good handle. Wooden dowel rods don’t grow on trees ya know? (Well okay, I guess they do).
Ya gotta remember, when I was brought up in the 50’s, people hardly threw anything away. Like I’ve often mentioned before, milk came in glass returnable bottles. So did soda pop and beer. Cigarette lighters were NOT disposable and neither were razors. You even replaced a writing pen’s ink by unscrewing it and sliding in a new refill thingie. In fact when I began junior high school my dad gave me a bottle of ink and a fountain pen (what a mess!). About the only things ya tossed out were tin cans. And even then an old guy down the street used to clean ‘em out, cut off the tops and bottoms, cut ‘em with shears vertically and flatten them. He had stacks of them in all sizes! The neighborhood kids called him the “Can Man”.
Nobody had garbage disposals back then. Most people who lived outside the city had compost piles in their back yards, not only ‘cause it’s good to have one for yer garden, but to keep the stink, the wandering dogs and cats, and the fruit flies outta the trashcan. Plastic bags were rare.
A major influence in my life was an old guy named “Mo”. Mo owned a small junkyard blocks away that I often used to ride to on my bike. I first met him when I accompanied the Can Man there with a load of tin cans. When I discovered that Mo would give money for tin cans I was amazed! ‘How cool is this?’ I thought. ‘Cash for trash! Who woulda thunk?’
I was the proverbial kid in a toy store. Surrounding me were bicycles that only needed wheels! Cars that looked like you could just drive them away! There was all kinds of stuff that looked perfectly good and could be used to make all sorts of neat things! ‘There’s a bookcase for my mom that could be glued together. OH MY GOD!! THERE’S A SEARS SILVERTONE ELECTRIC GUITAR!! Hell, the neck can be fixed!’
And fix it I did. It ended up looking like a piece of shit, but it worked and I learned how to play on it. I kept it for years even after my dad broke down and bought me a brand NEW Sears Silvertone guitar for Christmas one year.
I learned from that that just about anything could be saved and fixed. My first few motorcycles came home in the trunk of a car. In fact I built my Shovelhead without hardly any help from a burnt, totaled out wreck that I paid five hundred dollars for at a car auction. And it only took a few hundred bucks more in used parts and a couple of months to get it on the road.
Then, for years I did my own plumbing, my own furnace work, my own wiring, my own roofing and carpentry. I had to get pretty good at it all as I spent ALL of my time (when I wasn’t at work) and a small fortune in material fixing up an abandoned house in Kinsman, more than quadrupling it’s appraisal value, only to lose everything in a divorce.
I soon lost the urge to “fix” things. For years now I rarely even wrench on my own car or scoot unless I absolutely have to. The macho satisfaction of using my own hands to build and repair has long lost its appeal.
I guess I can forgive myself for that. I learned long ago how to forgive my self for just about anything. And it DOES make sense to replace things and to pay a professional to do some things if you can afford it. All I know is I don’t ever again wanna scrape my freezing knuckles on a damned radiator while I’m laying on back in the snow!!
I DO however at least still try to find ways to save stuff that can be useful if Julie lets me (that’s kinda macho isn’t it?). Nowadays it’s called recycling.
But I am starting to agree with her and my sons about this f&%$#?g computer. I’d give it to a charity if so much porn hadn’t somehow gotten on it. Besides, I think it would be much more satisfying if I just used it for target practice.
That’s sorta useful isn’t it?
Bummer
