Story of a Workshop Junkie

[Terry Mac]

On December 9th, 2007, Oklahoma was hit by an ice storm that created the worst power outage in its history. Unfortunately, I was in the middle of this wonderfully exotic power outage. Trees have their own way of talking when breaking from the heights. With a sharp crack, and the spray of thousands of pieces of ice, the limbs fell with impunity, crashing to the ground. As the limbs fell, we were also graced by the beautiful site of blue among the gray skies. Like the auroua borealis, the blue flame of bursting transformers filled the void of breaking limbs.

If it wasn't so cold, it would have been breathtaking. As it was, cutting the limbs that lay blocking the street, was breathtaking enough.

With tree limbs everywhere, and supplies low, what could have been a morose existence without power, turned into an interesting saga of a workshop junkie.

What was one to do without power in a workshop? I don't have a crank handle for the table saw; or a rat treadmill for the bandsaw; although I came up with a pretty good idea to use the dog to spin the drill press. (dog didn't much like it, so it got abandoned)

So what was one to do in a cold, dark shop? That answer was actually quite simple; INVESTIGATE! Like an expert spelunker investigating the caves of an ancient burial site in a mountain side; no corner would go untouched by my hand.

Flashlight in hand, and beer setting on a ladder outside to keep cold, with vigor I set off to investigate every little nook and cranny of this wonderful place called a shop. Tools I haven't seen in years suddenly materialized from underneath that piece of plywood that I can't remember putting there. A book rack I was building suddenly showed itself in behind a stand of clamps (I always wondered where that rack went, until I forgot about it). Sanding paper! My goodness, the sheets of sanding paper underneath tool boxes was enormous! A veritable gold mine! Then the sinister and ever lurking hack saw blades, as they lay unhindered waiting to bite, like that of a rattler. And bite they do. In the very depths of a tool box, caked with dust, awaiting the warm red blood of human flesh. Got me twice. . . . twice! (The story of the bandaides will come later).

After eventually finding the band aides, my foray continued, and probably not for the best. Little did I realize that in the dark one should not go seeking heavy things that live on high shelves. . . . .

Well, I've wasted enough of your time with this silly little tale. Away from the office and to the darkness that still lies at home, awaits the shop in all its glory and mystery. This is day 8 of being without power; hopefully soon the joyous sounds of power tools will be heralded again.

[Don]

Well, Terry. You've got this writing bug as well. Very sorry to hear about the conditions but it sounds like you're making the best of it. A great excuse to look around the shop for lost treasure. Well told.

I lose my power quite a few times a year as well; the trees are too close to the lines. I don't like pretending to be Amish.

All the best, Don

[woodman43]

Well, I hope y'all get some power soon. But it sounds like you had an exciting adventure.
I keep a small generator handy for use when in need. Thankfully I very rarely have to use it.

[Terry Mac]

Hey guys appreciate the kind sentiments. There's a few more stories of the excavation. Like the chisels that lay in wait on mount high; and the fight of the dog and two tool boxes. That one was pretty funny, the dog didn't much like it though. But I won't bore you with those.


I do want to let you guys know though that. . . . . .


THE POWER CAME BACK ON TODAY!!!!!!!

Now its time for real shop work. . . . .