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The shop. It sat out back of the house. At first, in our case, it was an old wooden shed that my dad had built for storing our household goods while we were out of the country – back up north on “home service” or “furlough”. When we returned and then built our place the shed first provided living quarters for one of the workers who was helping dig the well and then other such labor. Then when we moved in it was where the generator that provided our electricity and water pumping capabilities was kept. It was full of tools and miscellaneous scrap wood and metal and old bolts and nuts and “junk” that gave us many hours of entertaining occupation as we fabricated one thing or another. Later it was replaced by a brick and mortar building that had proper wiring and a concrete floor that was easier to find things on than the old wooden boards that would let stuff drop through to the dirt below.

My uncle had one too. His had a few things that ours didn’t. Like a drill press and a vise. That was where we made some key parts for our waterpipe muzzle loaders. And that’s where I “got” my cousin when I walked in to see him tightening up the vice to ease the primer down on top of the nail that was to serve as an anvil in the exploding (hopefully) projectile that we’d been working on. Never before or since was I able to get such a “rise” out of him as when I loudly clapped my hands and saw him sprawl backwards – just knowing he’d popped the sensitive primer.

Later on dad got a Shopsmith Mark V multi tool and we too had access to some pretty cool accessories and tools to do all kinds of things with. There was oodles of scrap mahogany and “pau louro” and other amazonian hardwoods to play with and dad had plenty of accessories and fittings and tools that allowed us to learn to do some fun and even useful things.

We learned which way to tighten a bolt – and that if you OVER tighten one then you’ll just pop the head off or maybe even bust the wrench – depending on which was made of cheaper material… We learned that if you don’t watch your fingers around moving machinery that you’ll get them nicked – or worse. We learned how to look at how something came apart so that it could be put back together again. We learned that proper fitting tools make things work better and last longer. And we learned “african american engineering” – the fine art of “making do” when proper tools or materials are not to be found or are out of reach financially.

Yes, the shop taught us a lot.  And having reasonably unfettered access to it allowed us to learn things on our own – and we even survived many experiments that would give today’s do gooders a heart attack if they knew of some kid venturing down that road.  There were the home made “mortars” for launching huge firecrackers high into the air.  There were the “pipe bomb” cannons we tested our muzzle loading barrel material with.  (increase powder charges until there is a failure – then use only 25% of the last successful load was our way of “ensuring” safety) There were the cast projectiles (made in wooden “mould blocks”) of molten car battery lead (WAY before the time they started adding all the calcium and who knows what else that can make such things a lethal endeavor now) And there were also the various “things” we built for fishing or hunting or just goofing around.

I miss the shop.  Oh, I’ve a few tools and such around the office, but living in rented quarters in a metropolitan area of the Colombian andean region doesn’t allow for one to have a full blown shop.  I manage to piddle around with this and that, but when I start hoarding scrap wood the wife tends to get a bit testy – there’s simply no place it can be stored that doesn’t get in the way.  Having observed a few “modern” teen agers I feel sorry for them.  Most of them have never had a shop to play in.  Most don’t seem to know how to turn a bolt or take apart something, fix it and put it back together again.  Yes, there are exceptions to this – but I’m talking about the kids who live in the modern day MTV and video game world.  It is sad, to me anyway, to see that so much creativity is lost since kids aren’t encouraged to think for themselves or to provide for their own entertainment.  I really don’t recall being “bored” – back when we had access to the shop…