Tools

Last weekend, I made a record-setting number of trips to the neighborhood Lowes; visting five times on a single weekend, largely due to the undertaking of staining my backyard fence. After attempting to stain two panels myself, I opted to call in professional help to finish the rest of the job…

During my first few visits to Lowes, I couldn’t help but notice a Craftsman tool set placed near the entrance. At over 50% off, it had a lions share of tools that I was missing in my garage. Throughout the weekend, I kept thinking about the set and made up my mind that I would go back to buy it.

On my 5th visit, I walked inside to return two bucks of unused fence stain. As soon as I wrapped up the return, I walked over to the display where the tool sets were. Looking down, I noticed only one set remained. Eagerly, I reached down to pick it up and was given a surprise as the box was completely empty.

Behind plexiglass were the drawers of that toolbox, filled with the tools that should have been in the box I picked up. Immediately, I grabbed an associate and asked them if they had any more in their inventory. They didn’t – nor were they getting any more in stock.

My next move was to ask the associate if it would be possible for me to buy the display unit. He wasn’t sure and had to call in a manager. After several minutes of waiting for the manager, he arrived and I explained that I wanted to buy the display unit, sharing it was a gift for Atlas, who would be ecstatic at such a gift.

He made a few calls and returned to me with bad news. I couldn’t buy it.

Politely, I stated:

“Is there anything you can do? My son will absolutely love this, and I know that we will put it to good use. He’s five, by the way.”

He looked at me, and then the other associate.

“Go get a drill.” he told the associate, prompting him to remove the plexiglass from the display so I could buy the box.

I walked out of Lowes that day feeling like a kid on Christmas day, carrying a fully-stocked tool box that set me back a few bucks more than a Benji. My excitment was only surpassed by that of Atlas, when I finally showed him his gift.

This morning, I woke up to a call for help on the neighborhood text thread:

“I’m so sorry so to ask, but my car battery is dead and we can’t remove a stripped nut to swap it out with the new one I bought. Could someone help us with the nut or jump me so I can take it somewhere?”

Atlas and I had just gotten up and I had barely finished my first cup of coffee. However, something told me to offer a hand.

“Atlas, let’s get your toolbox. We’ve got a neighbor to help!”

I let our neighbor know we were on the way to help. She warned me that she was already crying from frustration. Before grabbing the tools, I also grabbed a pack of stroopwafels, knowing they’d be a welcome diversion from the tears.

When we arrived, Atlas jumped out of the car with his flashlight ready and I opened up the toolbox for its first run in the wild. Looking at the stripped nut, I speculated there was enough metal left if the right tool were used – which seemed wasn’t the case in previous attempts.

Seconds later, the nut came off. The neighbor and her sister cheered with joy as I removed the connection cables. However, that was the easy part of the job, because the battery was housed inside the van cabin and the passnger seat was covering the path of the battery to remove it by a mere inch.

For nearly 15 minutes, I wrestled with the battery as my neighbor and her sister kept Atlas entertained. He gave them a tour of our car and gum collection in the center console – which seemed to be a tasting session for him as he sampled all of the varieties as I waterfalled sweat in her van, still wrestling with the battery.

Another neighbor walked by and saw the scene in the driveway, stopping to say hello to the ladies, who excitedly told her “Aaron came to the rescue!”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s always the first one to help!” she responded. I didn’t know who she was. However, she seemed to know me…

Eventually, the battery came out. I’m not entirely sure how I did it, but I did. Next, I had the daunting task of putting the new battery in place. The new battery was slightly larger than the previous one.

With no option but to remove the bolts hoding down the passenger seat in place, I grabbed another socket and got to work. The seat gave way about three inches, which was all I needed to drop the battery in place. Minutes later, everything was back in place and I gave the OK to fire up the car.

It started immediately.

Absolutely drenched in sweat, I began to pack up the tools as I chatted with the neighbor-in-distress. She shared a bit of her story with me, which was riddled with hardship in the past year, due to a challenging divorce. She tried to apologize for ‘taking up our morning together’.

“Don’t. This is the sort of thing I hope Atlas does when he gets older, and it’s a privilege to set the example for him to follow.”

As Atlas and I drove off to breakfast, I stopped to think about the toolbox. It had every part I needed to finish the job this morning, and to do it using the ‘right tool for the job.’

Somewhere up in Heaven, I knew my Dad was proud of me – and so was Atlas.

Breakfast never tasted so good.