It was not always so easy to reach into a tool box and get just what you need. My tool box has gone through an evolutionary cycle that would rival any that Darwin found in the Galapagos. The Sprite came with a vinyl bag that included a screw-lift jack, spanner to fit it, a socket that fit the lug nut on one side and the spark plug on the other. There was also a standard screwdriver that could double as a T-bar for the plug wrench. The tool kit also contained two steel loops with which could be attached to head bolts so that the engine could be pulled. Very prophetic given the number of times I had to get at the transmission.
To this list I added whatever I though I needed, and whatever I thought my father would miss the least. I purchased a set of metric sockets and a 3/8" drive. A few busted knuckles later I also picked up a short extender bar. The greatest needs for the socket set were to jack up the car and remove the wheels. Once the Pirelli’s that my dad had put onto the car had worn down, I would rotate them to get the imaginary tread up front. My kids know the penny trick. Put a penny, Lincoln head down, into your tread. If you could see the top of Honest Abe’s hair, it was time to buy new tires. My technique back then was a little different. If there was a trace of tread anywhere, those tires and wheels went up front.
Box wrenches were a later addition. A couple of well-worn screwdrivers, a claw hammer, bailing wire, and electrical tape joined the other tools in the box. I carried an assortment of other stuff like emery paper, spare (used) plugs, and a gap tool. Anything that I ever used once went into that box. At a garage sale, I picked up a set of Proto wrenches. These were better meant for the USS New Jersey than the Sprite. The smallest was 1". I carried them anyway, with the biggest under the front seat for protection. I probably would have been able to realize an additional 2-3 MPH top end speed without the weight of those wrenches.
When I started racing motorcycles I found new and exciting uses for tools. The pliers, and their martial arts cousin the vise grips, had often been used in my repairs as substitutes for wrench sizes I did not have. On cycles, I found that vise grips were an acceptable field replacement for a brake or shift lever. Needing to maintain a British car, my tow car, and two bikes, I had outgrown my collection of bigger and bigger Craftsman boxes. After one particularly frugal month, I was able to graduate to a Kennedy box. Imagine my pride. Felt lined drawers on smooth sliders. I customized the tool box with the required decal set inside the lid. When I loaded up the trusty Dodge to go to the cycle races I knew I had everything clean and close at hand. More and more tools came my way. When the screwdriver selection thinned out due to damage (use them as a pry bar and see what happens) and loss, I picked up a complete set on sale. In fact, for one of those "once a year" requirements, I got this mongo-driver. It is easily two feet long and can remove the biggest screw found on any car or bike, maybe even on the New Jersey.
One Friday night, after towing my bikes 50 miles up to a race in Vallejo, I discovered that I left the tool box keys back home. Bummer! A hammer and punch made short work of the lock. After that night the front panel would pop off and the drawers would slide out if the box was off plumb.
A dozen years ago I needed to upgrade again. I now had quite a selection of tools. The little 20 ft/lb. torque wrench that was OK for the head on the Sprite was totally inadequate for the 914 wheels. Once again I headed down to Sears for the sale. This time I got a roll around box. I have room for all of my tools and all of the extras. The Kennedy was given to the kids. It went from hobby holder, to crayon holder, to storage. For two years it gathered dust in the garage. Eventually I put it out on the curb with a FREE sign attached and it disappeared, bum door and no lock, within thirty minutes. Now I have most of the tools I will ever need. I even have coveralls and a crawler. Wow, just like a real shop. Yeah, it was fun using the tools and learning about cars, but these days I would much rather not bust my knuckles any more. I have done my share of engine changes, axle replacements, and suspension work. I’ll keep the tools but let the shop handle all but the easiest maintenance. One other thing. I’ll lock my tool collection up so my sons have the pleasure of bulding their own traditions.
Now, on to the room in which we keep tools and cars. The Garage. My room. I had a carport at my first college apartment. By the time I moved into a studio apartment, I had graduated to half of the downstairs garage. Many was the time that I worked on the Sprite and the motorcycles there. When we moved to our rental in Aloha in the late 70’s, my Sprite was sold and the only bike I had left was the Bultaco. The Volvo and the bike shared the garage with the washer, the dryer, and all of the family baggage not in use in the house.
When we finally bought our first house, I at last had a two car garage and a
separate laundry room. It was a two car garage, with separate doors for each stall.
Size wise it was more suited to a couple of Honda’s than my cars, but it was a
bigger garage. Just like graduating from tackle boxes, to Kennedy boxes, to the
roll around, a family accumulates enough cars and stuff to need a bigger
and bigger garage. With the acquisition of the 914, the new house was like
getting a new tool box. However, whether you
own, or rent, or otherwise, the garage becomes the major storage area
for the family. We had other stuff in that garage. About six weeks
out of the year, we would drag out the bi-fold ping pong table. The other
part of the year it would sit, taking up much more space than justified.
Since we had a fireplace, we also had half a cord of oak stacked along one
wall. Add to all of this the furniture castoffs, bicycles, and boxes of
accumulated family treasures that have grown out of more than twenty years
of marriage. You can see how this particular garage barely had room for the
intended four wheel tenants.
The year that Adam left for college, we elected to repossess his room. Armed with empty copy paper boxes, we swooped in and cleaned out the furniture and personal items, replacing them with our own choices. The result was a guest room suitable for his summer return and equally adaptable to visiting family and friends. Oh yeah, and more boxes for the garage. Well, in order to be able to spend any time back preparing the 914, I had to do something. At the time, a new house was not an option. A garage sale would be good, but who wants my college Sociology textbooks or my Bultaco? A rental storage space would give me more room, but it would inevitably fill up again with more household rejects.
This garage had four serious shortcomings. Like the bolt in Frankenstein’s neck, there was a six by six post dead center in the garage floor. This made it nigh on impossible to get any work room around the car by centering it in the garage. If I had a single garage door instead of two, I could position the car laterally in the front half and work on it with the door open. Now I am no structural engineer, but I’ll be that if I had removed that post, I would have had more come down than just plaster dust. Secondly, there was a shortage of electrical outlets. We already had a refrigerator in there (did I forget to mention that?) and once a radio was plugged in, only two sockets remained for lights, vacuum cleaner, drop cords, or whatever. Tim Allen I’m not and I made no improvements to the utilities. Speaking of utilities, the light is substandard to say the least. Drop a washer on the floor and you could grow old trying to find it again. Finally there was the issue of heat. Working on the car in the summer was not a problem, but the Rainbonnet car show is in November and I was routinely freezing my cajones off. One of the two roll up doors could have sealed better, and insulation above the ceiling would have certainly helped.
As with the tool boxes, this story has a good ending. We bought what we hope will be our retirement home. It has a three car garage, and one side is very deep. It has finished walls, and plenty of insulation to hold in the heat. I built shelves in the deep stall so that we would have a place to store the boxes of stuff we all must keep. There are electrical outlets galore and lots of florescent lighting. The floor is polished concrete and if I were to drop that washer again, it would be a cinch to find. There is one thing that has remained through all of the house moves though. Does anyone want to buy a 1973 Bultaco Pursang?
