As I was growing up one of my mentors was a man named Walt Green. Walt was an inspector with Delta Airlines. On the weekends he would build a fire in his potbellied stove and work in his garage fixing things. It did not matter what it was. People would bring him all sorts of things and he would fix them. I was fortunate to be able to work with him on several occasions. I don’t think he ever bought a part. He repaired things with whatever he could find in the shop.

  I remember on one occasion the windshield wiper on my 1973 Chevrolet station wagon quit working.  The box with all the working parts was sealed and riveted together. To most people this might mean that it was not designed to be worked on. Walt believed that if someone put it together he could take it apart. He drilled out the rivets and opened up the box. Once opened, we could see a plastic arm that was worn down and not making contact with the other parts as it should. After a quick search around the shop, we found a brass ferrule that fit over the arm perfectly. We bolted the box back together, reinstalled it and the windshield wipers worked perfectly for the remainder of that vehicle’s life.

  As life went on, I have found myself in many situations where something had to be repaired. First, it was farm machinery. On the farm, it seemed that something needed fixing almost every day. When I taught vocational agriculture, folks would bring things to the shop for repair. I thought it was good for the students to get real life experience so  we repaired outboard motors, lawnmowers, and most anything else you can think of. Then one day the mimeograph machine was delivered from the office. At first I did not know what it was. As the students gathered around, we soon discovered how the machine worked. I sent a team of students to the office to find out what it was doing wrong. After a few adjustments, we had it back in operation. We were as proud of that repair as we would have been had we known what we were doing.

  When I went to work for Snapper, my job was to teach dealers all over the country how to repair lawnmowers. Fixing things became a daily activity. I could tell mechanics over the phone, step by step how to repair most any common problem. After twenty five years at Snapper, fixing things was in my blood.

  Today, I try to moderate my desire to fix things, although not too long ago, I disassembled the office vacuum cleaner. I had it spread all over my office before installing a new switch. It still works. The electric stapler was beyond repair, the laminator only needed a new switch and the paper folding machine needed some wires soldered. In fact we just used it today.

  The biggest challenge was the projector. I always thought that pixels were a measurement of picture quality. I did not know that they were real. The projector fried the pixel card and the dead and wounded pixels were all over the screen, making the projector useless. I brought it back to my office and began the disassembly process to find the pixel card. I had parts in boxes, parts in plastic bags and all over my desk. Finally, I reached the pixels. I was proud of the accomplishment. When I tried to order more pixels I found that they would cost $200. A new projector was only $350. The decision was made to buy the new projector. You can’t imagine how I felt when I threw the old projector in the dumpster. Now I have to live with not knowing if I could have put it back together.

  If you see me around town, I am the one sitting at Gritz fixing the slide on the syrup bottle. Most folks would just ask for another bottle, but I can’t seem to help myself. I must fix it.