The Handy Man

I looked out of the upstairs back window one afternoon to see a man working on his pickup truck in the snow. Fully exposed to the weather, he wore a t-shirt and heavy trousers. The temperature was about ten degrees and the snow was a couple of inches with the threat of more to come. The man and the truck were not on the side of the street but in a large grassy area behind the house. He had to be working on this truck in these conditions because of necessity. Certainly, he did not choose to be out in those conditions for the thrill of working on a truck.

Nevertheless, I admired the man for having the personal strength, skill, and shaking aside the rigors of a cold day. Now for me the truck would have stayed there until spring in its present condition. Not because I am not inured to the cold and snow, which I am not, but because I have no skill with anything mechanical. Owning tools such as a hammer, pliers, wrenches, and screw drivers is a waste of money. I own those things but every time I attempt to use them the project ends in failure and often with words that indicate a loss of religion.

But, there was that man out there in the snow and cold working hard to get his truck back to working order. Maybe he needs it for his work, or he needs to move it to someone who has purchased it. I do not know, but I know that truck was important to him.

There are things important to me that need making, repairing, or adjusting. However, they are better turned over to someone who knows how to fix things or to make things. How did it turn out this way? Men are supposed to be handy by tradition. Most of the men I know can do just about anything with a hand or power tool. If I turned on a table saw and tried to pass a plank through it, a destroyed piece of wood comes out the other end. I think the problem goes back to childhood. I wanted to make things, help my father fix things, or even invent some things, but abject failure characterized every effort I made. Finally, the decision was clear; I would not do anything that embarrasses me.

Yet, here I am writing about failure and now as I realize what I have done I am embarrassed. I only wish I could work on a truck in the cold and snow and fix things with ease. It is too late now, I am old guy and all I want to do is stay in and avoid the weather.