Greatings Gentle Galoots,

I've been lurking under the porch for a few months, but now that I've
gotten my (amazing, incredible, and utterly succulent) blue cap (#98),
I guess I should pull up a chair....

I blame my father for my handtool affliction. One of my earliest
memories is of sitting out in the garage making shavings with a block
plane while my Dad played with his big bench plane (which I now know
was a Craftsman #5... too bad it wasn't a Stanley). You Galoots with
children, be careful what you teach them. I'm only 28 and already I
can't drive all the way past a flea market without starting to twitch
(unless, of course, I'm looking for a place to park).

Don't get me wrong. I haven't always been an oldtool junkie. I grew
up in Frederick, MD but never even thought about all the antique shops
and estate sales (I cringe now when I think of all the pickings I had
available to me). Went away to college and grad school and finally
moved to Texas in 1994. I now spend my days working as an aerospace
engineer for Bell Helicopter in Fort Worth and my nights as a student
(getting my aircraft mechanics license... no, NOT just another excuse
to buy tools... well, okay, maybe it is... but you guys understand.)

The first slippery spot on the slope came a few years ago when I drove
up to Kansas to help the family clean out my grandmothers house. This
included  my grandfathers shop. The choice items went, of course,
to the sons, but I did come home with a block plane, a set of Lakeside
chisels, a Lakeside #6 (what can I say? Dad shopped at Sears, Gramps
shopped at Wards), my grandfathers workbench, and the machinist's vice
he made in trade school (ca. 1910).

Now I had all the tools I needed to start woodworking, right? Heh, heh.
You guys know better! But first, I needed some knowledge. Hung out on
rec.ww until I realized that I couldn't afford even a small portion of
Norm's shop. Besides, Gramps didn't need no steenkin t*bl* s*w (well,
maybe Gramps did, but his father certainly didn't!). And so, I sloped
my forehead, admitted to myself that I am indeed an ENB , and crawled
under the porch. Since then, I've taken to hounding flea markets and
garage sales looking for anything rusty. Let me just say that it's a
good thing I live in OldTool Hell. Without the restraining influence
of a SWMBO, this tool acquisition thing can really get out of hand.
Then again, not everyone lives in OldTool Hell, and the next FMM is
almost here... (NO! I WILL finish a project before I buy another tool...
unless it's a really good deal, or a tool I can't live without. Oh, my.
I think I may need professional help soon.)

I'm really not much of a haggler, but I did have one serious shark fin
experience: Early morning at a small flea. Guy at a small table with
junk, but there's a nice looking saw and a square sided plane. I show
interest in the saw, and he promptly grabs it, bends it into a deep
S-shape (he really had to work to do this), and starts plucking it with
his finger. "These old saws are great for playing." I frown. He hands
it to me (probably to try it out) and I look... yup, it's a Disston, and
nope, those bends are never coming out. I set it down and he suggests
that some people like to paint landscapes on saws, maybe I could use it
for that. I cease to think of him as a human being. "I'm not much of
an artist. What about that thing," I say. "Oh, that's a wood plane."
I look at her and she's a beauty, so I gamble. "Well, the handle's busted
[small chip out of the horn] and the paint's starting to flake [not bad],
and it sure is dirty [heh heh]. I'll give you $10." He thinks a plane
that big should be worth more. There's no one else around, so I say,
(for the honor of that poor, desecrated saw), "Stanley made the only
planes worth having, and this thing is a... Bed Rock? [why would I want
to pay good money for a Fred Flintstone plane?] I'll give you $15."
Now I've got a 3 patent date #606. I still feel guilty about doing
that, but at least now the soul of that saw can rest easy.

Anyway, hanging out here has been a great experience for me. Since
joining you I've learned many things... like that restoring old,
neglected tools is truly good for the soul, that Ron Hock makes great
replacement irons, and that the name ScarySharp (TM) comes from the
root word meaning "to scar". Just think, someday my grandchildren
will think of those blood stains as patina!

Thanks Galoots!

Dave Platz