Toolbox Tale

I cleaned my toolbox over the weekend. My parents gave it to me probably in nineteen seventy-three of seventy-four before I graduated from Simi Valley High School. It was a Sears Craftsman toolbox: a metal rectangular toolbox, steel gray, with a red metal tray and a black suitcase-like handle. There were two clips to close the top and a strap to lock the toolbox. I never locked it. The toolbox was filled with about 45 years of dirt, washers, nuts, bolts, and screws. On the top of the brick-a-bract were the surviving tools. I found a Husky 15 mm open and closed ended wrench that I have no idea how it got there. As you already may have guessed, it needed to be cleaned out since it was my go-to toolbox for forty-five years. And cleaning the toolbox was a tour of memory lane. 

Back in the nineteen seventies my Mom added a list of all the tools in the toolbox. She put the list in an envelope and taped the envelope to the inside of the toolbox. I think it was her way to implicitly say: makes sure that you put everything back; and the job isn’t finished until you put everything back. Over the years the envelope and list has become oily, dirty, and torn. 

Getting this toolbox in my family was a rite of passage. The message was: you were using adult tools, not kid tools. You don’t have to borrow tools from your Dad. These are good quality tools that you can use for the rest of your life. In my family it was often said: “A workman is only as good as their tools.” Here, you have good tools, now be a good workman. 

After high school I went to college at Cal Poly SLO [California Polytechnic State University at San Luis Obispo] for two years. Then I switched to the University of California at Santa Barbara where I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Mathematics. During this time the toolbox stayed in my parent’s garage; I rarely used it. 

In 1978 I was accepted at Cal [University of California at Berkeley] for a graduate program in mathematics. I needed a car to travel back and forth from Simi Valley to Berkeley. I bought a 1963 Rambler station wagon to accomplish this task. I put my toolbox on the floor of the backseat. My Rambler was an old car and it NEEDED a toolbox. Luckily, I desperately needed the toolbox for the Rambler just one time. The accelerator spring broke on Shattuck Avenue in Berkeley. The engine went to full power; I turned off the engine and pulled over to the curb. I used the toolbox’s needle nosed pliers to reattach the accelerator spring. 

Somebody stole the battery out of my 63 Rambler when it was parked in Berkeley. I thought that anybody that needed to steal a battery from 1963 Rambler needed the battery or money more than I did. I bought a new battery and battery cables (the thief had cut the old cables) and attached them with tools from my toolbox. I was running again. 

The toolbox wasn’t needed when I bought a 1983 Mazda RX-7 so the toolbox stayed in my garage. Thereafter my toolbox was with me in my apartment in Livermore CA, my townhouse in Oakland CA, my garage in Dublin CA, and my garage in Los Altos CA. Today, it resides in my garage in Chandler AZ. During this time I used the tools in the toolbox for projects around the house. During this time it filled up with the bric-a-brac of numerous repair jobs. 

In forty-five years the world has changed. Sears has undergone several bankruptcies. The Craftsman brand was sold to Stanley Black & Decker.  I lost pieces of the toolbox, particularly sockets; and my wire brush has disappeared. Most of my screwdrivers disappear, to be replaced by other brands. I could blame my kids, but even my eyes would roll with that assertion. My toolbox did not have metric sockets, so reluctantly I bought another tool set from Harbor Freight that had both metric and SAE sockets and wrenches. The plastic case had indentations in the plastic to keep track of all the tools. 

But with all the changes, Mom’s still right: the job in not finished until you packs up your tools.