Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
Today was my first day back in the shop since December and what a nice
day it was, weather wise. Fifty-some degrees and sunny - a perfect
day to begin cleaning up the mess I'd left from the last job I did.
In the normal course of events I clean up the shop just after
finishing a project - empty the dust collector - re-hang the clamps -
put away the odd tools that were left out in the hurly burly of
completing an installation. This time I'd gotten bronchitis towards
the end of the job and it had hung on for the better part of two
months - so the shop looked like hell.
I was well on my way to having things squared away and was fitting a
freshly cleaned Leuco finish blade ($180.00 in 1987 money) back onto
the Unisaw when I was startled by a loud banging on the shop door.
Now, my shop door is really a pair of fifteen light French doors and
any damned fool coulda seen that my back was turned and that I was
bent over the tablesaw, concentrated like.
That made no nevermind to Bindlestiff, who pummeled the doors hard
enough to rattle the glass close on to breaking and rattling me to the
degree that I dropped the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money) into the
innards of the Unisaw - and it didn't sound like it had a real easy
trip to the bottom, neither.
Bindlestiff pretty much passes the duck test. He looks like a duck.
He walks like a duck. And he sounds like a duck. But he's about six
foot five and weighs better than an eighth of a ton - and he has a
house down the road from me a bit, so I figger he ain't really a duck.
What he is, is a man who constantly tests the forbearance of his
fellow man - what we here in the Southeast corner of Penssyltucky
call, "A real pain in the ass."
I calmed myself for a bit by taking a few of those deep cleansing
breaths that I had learned about in the Lamaz classes I'd taken with
my wife, in preparation for the birth of my oldest child, although I'm
not sure why I did that, as it hadn't worked for my wife when it came
right down to it. When it came right down to it, she turned purple,
dug her nails into my hand and cussed me and the doctor both, with
language strong enough to burn the paint off the delivery room walls.
Hoping for a better result, and somewhat addled by the deep breaths, I
turned to face Bindlestiff.
He stood on the other side of the French doors, that I keep locked, so
that I won't be startled by intruders ( ! ), with a big grin on his
ducklike face.
I've always made it a policy to be nice to the neighbors, even the
ones that I don't care for much, because I was running a sub-rosa
cabinetmaking shop behind my house, in a residential area - and I
didn't want anybody to rat me out to the township. But I was retired
from professional cabinetmaking now and thought to give Bindlestiff a
piece of my mind.
It was only the fear of being physically accosted by a six foot five,
better than an eighth ton duck that made me open the doors quietly and
say,
"Hello, Bindlestiff."
"I could see from the road that you was working in here. Can you cut
the tongue offa this piece of flooring for me", quacks Bindlestiff.
He held out a gnarly chunk of prefinished oak flooring, with a
battered tongue and about a dozen nail holes along its twelve-inch
length.
"I tried to beat it in to make it fit but it wouldn't lay down and I
don't have no more pieces left."
"Sure", says I, so used to keeping peace with the neighbors that I did
not express my inner thought of just where this mangled piece of
flooring should rightly go.
I went to the tablesaw to retrieve the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
"Boy, you sure did jump when I knocked on your door."
"Yeah, too much coffee, I guess.", says I, while thinking about what
kind of substances Mother Bindlestiff must have ingested during
Bindlestiff's gestation period to produce such an awkward lump of
flesh.
I retrieved the Leuco from the bowels of the Unisaw cabinet and set
about looking it over very carefully.
Listen here, I had interviewed three different saw sharpeners before
selecting one to sharpen that blade. It has a funny tooth
configuration, with a hollowed tooth that comes to real sharp points
on the outside edges - and it needs someone who won't mangle it
according to the usual practice of sharpening shops. The guy I picked
had kept the blade in primo condition for over fifteen years, without
wasting any carbide.
It was my best blade for fine crosscut work.
As to why I mounted it with the intent of ripping the tongue off of
the flooring piece, I couldn't tell you. I guess I just wanted to get
Bindlestiff out of my shop as quickly as possible.
I didn't see any damage to the blade and set about to fire up the
Unisaw.
"I pulled all the nails out real good." Says Bindlestiff, and, taking
him at his word, and not seeing any evidence of metal in the holes, I
turned on the saw.
I've a long-standing habit of staying out of the line of fire when
turning on the tablesaw. Over the years I've had a few blades spit
teeth at me when the saw started up and I no longer even think about
standing where they can get me.
Bindlestiff, not being particularly mechanical, as evidenced by his
violated flooring board, had not learned any protective strategies in
this regard - and he stood right in line with the Leuco when she
started up. I'd told him to stand off to the side but Bindlestiff
ain't much of a listener.
I got about four inches into the cut when all hell broke loose.
The shrapnel caught Bindlestiff right in the middle of his, "I'd
Rather Be Bowling" tee shirt and described a straight line through the
dancing bowling pin graphic, from just below his neck to just above
his belt.
Bindlestiff emitted a huge quack and had the most perfect look of
shock and stupefaction on his face. Three small blood blossoms
overtook the washed out colors of the "IRBB" tee shirt.
A fourth tooth had shattered the fluorescent tube in the overhead
light and shards of thin glass, along with a powdery substance wafted
down onto Bindlestiff's head.
The carbide didn't go in too deep. Bindlestiff picked the pieces out
with his fingers. They were shaking pretty good.
I'd shut the saw down by reflex and once I saw that Bindlestiff wasn't
mortally wounded, I picked up the piece of oak flooring.
The evidence was clear. There was a shiny piece of cut off flooring
nail winking out from the board's edge.
"I had to twist one of them nail heads off." Says Bindlestiff, while
fingering a puckered spot on his vast belly - that wasn't really
bleeding much at all.
Well, old Bindlestiff wasn't hurt much. He had a few dents in his gut
and some glass that we had to blow out of his hair with the air
compressor.
He left the shop, with a new respect for the truth about hidden nails
and a promise to pay for the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
Thomas J. Watson-Cabinetmaker (ret)
Real Email is: tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet
Website: http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1
Pink Flamingos, the ones with "THIS SIDE TOWARDS ENEMY" stenciled on one
side.
"Unisaw A100" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Tom Watson wrote:
> >I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
> >of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
>
>
>
> Blinds? I'm thinking trip wire and Clamore at the top of
> the drive.
>
> UA100
I doff my hat to any man with 3 orders of magnitude more patience with
his fellow man (I know, I know, I'm using the term loosely) than yours
truly.
I've had one blade lose EVERY carbide tip...all in about .2
milliseconds. That was some REAL excitement!
Was Milli Vanilli named for the length of time they would remain popular?
dave
Tom Watson wrote:
> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
> Today was my first day back in the shop since December and what a nice
> day it was, weather wise. Fifty-some degrees and sunny - a perfect
> day to begin cleaning up the mess I'd left from the last job I did.
>
> In the normal course of events I clean up the shop just after
> finishing a project - empty the dust collector - re-hang the clamps -
> put away the odd tools that were left out in the hurly burly of
> completing an installation. This time I'd gotten bronchitis towards
> the end of the job and it had hung on for the better part of two
> months - so the shop looked like hell.
>
> I was well on my way to having things squared away and was fitting a
> freshly cleaned Leuco finish blade ($180.00 in 1987 money) back onto
> the Unisaw when I was startled by a loud banging on the shop door.
>
> Now, my shop door is really a pair of fifteen light French doors and
> any damned fool coulda seen that my back was turned and that I was
> bent over the tablesaw, concentrated like.
>
> That made no nevermind to Bindlestiff, who pummeled the doors hard
> enough to rattle the glass close on to breaking and rattling me to the
> degree that I dropped the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money) into the
> innards of the Unisaw - and it didn't sound like it had a real easy
> trip to the bottom, neither.
>
> Bindlestiff pretty much passes the duck test. He looks like a duck.
> He walks like a duck. And he sounds like a duck. But he's about six
> foot five and weighs better than an eighth of a ton - and he has a
> house down the road from me a bit, so I figger he ain't really a duck.
>
> What he is, is a man who constantly tests the forbearance of his
> fellow man - what we here in the Southeast corner of Penssyltucky
> call, "A real pain in the ass."
>
> I calmed myself for a bit by taking a few of those deep cleansing
> breaths that I had learned about in the Lamaz classes I'd taken with
> my wife, in preparation for the birth of my oldest child, although I'm
> not sure why I did that, as it hadn't worked for my wife when it came
> right down to it. When it came right down to it, she turned purple,
> dug her nails into my hand and cussed me and the doctor both, with
> language strong enough to burn the paint off the delivery room walls.
>
> Hoping for a better result, and somewhat addled by the deep breaths, I
> turned to face Bindlestiff.
>
> He stood on the other side of the French doors, that I keep locked, so
> that I won't be startled by intruders ( ! ), with a big grin on his
> ducklike face.
>
> I've always made it a policy to be nice to the neighbors, even the
> ones that I don't care for much, because I was running a sub-rosa
> cabinetmaking shop behind my house, in a residential area - and I
> didn't want anybody to rat me out to the township. But I was retired
> from professional cabinetmaking now and thought to give Bindlestiff a
> piece of my mind.
>
> It was only the fear of being physically accosted by a six foot five,
> better than an eighth ton duck that made me open the doors quietly and
> say,
>
> "Hello, Bindlestiff."
>
> "I could see from the road that you was working in here. Can you cut
> the tongue offa this piece of flooring for me", quacks Bindlestiff.
>
> He held out a gnarly chunk of prefinished oak flooring, with a
> battered tongue and about a dozen nail holes along its twelve-inch
> length.
>
> "I tried to beat it in to make it fit but it wouldn't lay down and I
> don't have no more pieces left."
>
> "Sure", says I, so used to keeping peace with the neighbors that I did
> not express my inner thought of just where this mangled piece of
> flooring should rightly go.
>
> I went to the tablesaw to retrieve the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
>
> "Boy, you sure did jump when I knocked on your door."
>
> "Yeah, too much coffee, I guess.", says I, while thinking about what
> kind of substances Mother Bindlestiff must have ingested during
> Bindlestiff's gestation period to produce such an awkward lump of
> flesh.
>
> I retrieved the Leuco from the bowels of the Unisaw cabinet and set
> about looking it over very carefully.
>
> Listen here, I had interviewed three different saw sharpeners before
> selecting one to sharpen that blade. It has a funny tooth
> configuration, with a hollowed tooth that comes to real sharp points
> on the outside edges - and it needs someone who won't mangle it
> according to the usual practice of sharpening shops. The guy I picked
> had kept the blade in primo condition for over fifteen years, without
> wasting any carbide.
>
> It was my best blade for fine crosscut work.
>
> As to why I mounted it with the intent of ripping the tongue off of
> the flooring piece, I couldn't tell you. I guess I just wanted to get
> Bindlestiff out of my shop as quickly as possible.
>
> I didn't see any damage to the blade and set about to fire up the
> Unisaw.
>
> "I pulled all the nails out real good." Says Bindlestiff, and, taking
> him at his word, and not seeing any evidence of metal in the holes, I
> turned on the saw.
>
> I've a long-standing habit of staying out of the line of fire when
> turning on the tablesaw. Over the years I've had a few blades spit
> teeth at me when the saw started up and I no longer even think about
> standing where they can get me.
>
> Bindlestiff, not being particularly mechanical, as evidenced by his
> violated flooring board, had not learned any protective strategies in
> this regard - and he stood right in line with the Leuco when she
> started up. I'd told him to stand off to the side but Bindlestiff
> ain't much of a listener.
>
> I got about four inches into the cut when all hell broke loose.
>
> The shrapnel caught Bindlestiff right in the middle of his, "I'd
> Rather Be Bowling" tee shirt and described a straight line through the
> dancing bowling pin graphic, from just below his neck to just above
> his belt.
>
> Bindlestiff emitted a huge quack and had the most perfect look of
> shock and stupefaction on his face. Three small blood blossoms
> overtook the washed out colors of the "IRBB" tee shirt.
>
> A fourth tooth had shattered the fluorescent tube in the overhead
> light and shards of thin glass, along with a powdery substance wafted
> down onto Bindlestiff's head.
>
> The carbide didn't go in too deep. Bindlestiff picked the pieces out
> with his fingers. They were shaking pretty good.
>
> I'd shut the saw down by reflex and once I saw that Bindlestiff wasn't
> mortally wounded, I picked up the piece of oak flooring.
>
> The evidence was clear. There was a shiny piece of cut off flooring
> nail winking out from the board's edge.
>
> "I had to twist one of them nail heads off." Says Bindlestiff, while
> fingering a puckered spot on his vast belly - that wasn't really
> bleeding much at all.
>
> Well, old Bindlestiff wasn't hurt much. He had a few dents in his gut
> and some glass that we had to blow out of his hair with the air
> compressor.
>
> He left the shop, with a new respect for the truth about hidden nails
> and a promise to pay for the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
>
> I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
> of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
>
>
> Thomas J. Watson-Cabinetmaker (ret)
> Real Email is: tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet
> Website: http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1
On Sat, 28 Feb 2004 19:01:25 -0500, Tom Watson <[email protected]>
brought forth from the murky depths:
>Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
Egad! The name itself evokes terror and rebuke.
>I was well on my way to having things squared away and was fitting a
>freshly cleaned Leuco finish blade ($180.00 in 1987 money) back onto
That's nigh onta 'leben hunnert Shrubby ducats, ain't it?
>As to why I mounted it with the intent of ripping the tongue off of
>the flooring piece, I couldn't tell you. I guess I just wanted to get
>Bindlestiff out of my shop as quickly as possible.
Uh, oh. I hear it coming. People like that drive your spirit
entirely clear of your body, so there's no telling what you
were doing there.
>"I pulled all the nails out real good." Says Bindlestiff, and, taking
>him at his word, and not seeing any evidence of metal in the holes, I
>turned on the saw.
Bwahahaha! He make joke. (Taking him at his quack.)
>He left the shop, with a new respect for the truth about hidden nails
>and a promise to pay for the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
Are you holding your breath?
>I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
>of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
Indubitably, my dear Tawm.
We're just glad you didn't take that blade and send it home
with Bindlestiff. He might not have made it all the way there
with it stuck through his temple.
P.S: Good story.
.-.
Better Living Through Denial
---
http://www.diversify.com Wondrous Website Design
On Sat, 28 Feb 2004 19:01:25 -0500, Tom Watson <[email protected]>
wrote:
snip
>
>The evidence was clear. There was a shiny piece of cut off flooring
>nail winking out from the board's edge.
>
>"I had to twist one of them nail heads off." Says Bindlestiff
snip
>
>Thomas J. Watson-Cabinetmaker (ret)
>Real Email is: tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet
>Website: http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1
I hit a nail that someone else had twisted the head off of once.
either the broken tooth or bits of nail hit my glasses. the lens
shattered and a shard of glass cut my eyelid right to the edge. it was
such a clean cut that the first inkling I had that I'd been cut was
when the blood dripped into my eye.
I wear polycarbonate lenses now....
Bridger
only 2 days???
dave
Charlie Self wrote:
> Tom Watson writes:
>
>
>>Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
>
> ROTFLMAO!
>
> And I have been in a rotten mood for 2 days.
>
> Thank you, Tom.
>
> Charlie Self
> I don't approve of political jokes. I've seen too many of them get elected.
>
> http://hometown.aol.com/charliediy/myhomepage/business.html
Great yarn Tom. You have far more patience & tolerance than
I do.
It occurs to me that there may be a silver lining to this incident.
1. BS may be reluctant to set foot in your shop again now that he
was wounded. And/or.
2. You may never see BS again now that he owes you for the blade.
Art
"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
<snip of another TW gem.>
"Luigi Zanasi" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> On Sat, 28 Feb 2004 19:01:25 -0500, Tom Watson <[email protected]>
> scribbled:
>
> >Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
> <snip of another great story>
>
> Tom, this is a pain. You realise that now I have to wait until your
> post shows up on Google, find the reference, copy the URL, code
> another line in the humour (humor, Keith) page, test it, fix the
> typos, test it again, fix it again & upload it.
>
> And then, I've gotta do the same thing for Baglio's latest offering.
> Sheesh.
OR
You could just let them fade into obscure history....
"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
<snip of well written lament>
Wonderful Tom! Straight to the ww'ing humor file.
--
Nahmie
Those who know the least will always know it the loudest.
---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.593 / Virus Database: 376 - Release Date: 2/20/2004
Tom Watson wrote:
>Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
<snipity snip>
>I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
>of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
>
>
>Thomas J. Watson-Cabinetmaker (ret)
>Real Email is: tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet
>Website: http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1
>
After reading all the replies, I'm glad I have a personal policy of not
speaking to any of my neighbors. Any of them get close and I turn on
the saw and start shouting at the top of my lungs " What?!? WHAT?!?
WHAAAAAAT?!? Come back later, I can't hear you!!"
"S S Law NH" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Great story, Tom. I laughed so hard I don't think my pants will ever dry!
>
> Jay in NH
Sometimes sharing can be taken too far...
But the negative side is you may see a letter from BS's lawyer asking
for damages and medical expensives, pain and suffering, and mental
anguise <vbg!!>
John
On Sun, 29 Feb 2004 03:41:30 GMT, "Wood Butcher" <[email protected]>
wrote:
>Great yarn Tom. You have far more patience & tolerance than
>I do.
>
>It occurs to me that there may be a silver lining to this incident.
>1. BS may be reluctant to set foot in your shop again now that he
> was wounded. And/or.
>2. You may never see BS again now that he owes you for the blade.
>
>Art
>
>"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
>news:[email protected]...
>> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>>
><snip of another TW gem.>
>
On Tue, 02 Mar 2004 01:05:59 GMT, "Myxylplyk" <[email protected]>
wrote:
>OR
>
>You could just let them fade into obscure history....
>
"Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and
brief chronicles of the time."
(Hamlet - Act II, Scene II)
Thomas J. Watson - Cabinetmaker (ret.)
(Real Email is tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet)
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/
On Sun, 29 Feb 2004 21:57:25 -0800, Luigi Zanasi <[email protected]>
wrote:
>Tom, this is a pain. You realise that now I have to wait until your
>post shows up on Google, find the reference, copy the URL, code
>another line in the humour (humor, Keith) page, test it, fix the
>typos, test it again, fix it again & upload it.
>
>And then, I've gotta do the same thing for Baglio's latest offering.
>Sheesh.
:<(
Thomas J. Watson - Cabinetmaker (ret.)
(Real Email is tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet)
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/
On Sat, 28 Feb 2004 23:59:15 -0500, "Norman D. Crow"
<[email protected]> brought forth from the murky depths:
>"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
>news:[email protected]...
>> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>>
><snip of well written lament>
>
>Wonderful Tom! Straight to the ww'ing humor file.
That might be a good thing to keep in the shop. Whenever a
Bindlestiff comes in, just hand them a copy, move them out
the door, and lock it.
P.S: Don't forget to pull the blinds.
.-.
Better Living Through Denial
---
http://www.diversify.com Wondrous Website Design
"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
You have a lot more patience than I, Tom.
The duck might not have made it out of my shop quite as intact.
Jon E
On Sat, 28 Feb 2004 19:01:25 -0500, Tom Watson <[email protected]>
scribbled:
>Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
<snip of another great story>
Tom, this is a pain. You realise that now I have to wait until your
post shows up on Google, find the reference, copy the URL, code
another line in the humour (humor, Keith) page, test it, fix the
typos, test it again, fix it again & upload it.
And then, I've gotta do the same thing for Baglio's latest offering.
Sheesh.
Luigi
Replace "nonet" with "yukonomics" for real email address
www.yukonomics.ca/wooddorking/antifaq.html
www.yukonomics.ca/wooddorking/humour.html
I felt it....and I think I used to live beside him once....
thanks Tom!
Rob
--
******PLEASE NOTE OUR NEW EMAIL ADDRESS******
[email protected]
Please visit our (recently updated) web site:
http://www.robswoodworking.com
"Tom Watson" <[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
> Things were going along just fine until Bindlestiff showed up.
>
> Today was my first day back in the shop since December and what a nice
> day it was, weather wise. Fifty-some degrees and sunny - a perfect
> day to begin cleaning up the mess I'd left from the last job I did.
>
> In the normal course of events I clean up the shop just after
> finishing a project - empty the dust collector - re-hang the clamps -
> put away the odd tools that were left out in the hurly burly of
> completing an installation. This time I'd gotten bronchitis towards
> the end of the job and it had hung on for the better part of two
> months - so the shop looked like hell.
>
> I was well on my way to having things squared away and was fitting a
> freshly cleaned Leuco finish blade ($180.00 in 1987 money) back onto
> the Unisaw when I was startled by a loud banging on the shop door.
>
> Now, my shop door is really a pair of fifteen light French doors and
> any damned fool coulda seen that my back was turned and that I was
> bent over the tablesaw, concentrated like.
>
> That made no nevermind to Bindlestiff, who pummeled the doors hard
> enough to rattle the glass close on to breaking and rattling me to the
> degree that I dropped the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money) into the
> innards of the Unisaw - and it didn't sound like it had a real easy
> trip to the bottom, neither.
>
> Bindlestiff pretty much passes the duck test. He looks like a duck.
> He walks like a duck. And he sounds like a duck. But he's about six
> foot five and weighs better than an eighth of a ton - and he has a
> house down the road from me a bit, so I figger he ain't really a duck.
>
> What he is, is a man who constantly tests the forbearance of his
> fellow man - what we here in the Southeast corner of Penssyltucky
> call, "A real pain in the ass."
>
> I calmed myself for a bit by taking a few of those deep cleansing
> breaths that I had learned about in the Lamaz classes I'd taken with
> my wife, in preparation for the birth of my oldest child, although I'm
> not sure why I did that, as it hadn't worked for my wife when it came
> right down to it. When it came right down to it, she turned purple,
> dug her nails into my hand and cussed me and the doctor both, with
> language strong enough to burn the paint off the delivery room walls.
>
> Hoping for a better result, and somewhat addled by the deep breaths, I
> turned to face Bindlestiff.
>
> He stood on the other side of the French doors, that I keep locked, so
> that I won't be startled by intruders ( ! ), with a big grin on his
> ducklike face.
>
> I've always made it a policy to be nice to the neighbors, even the
> ones that I don't care for much, because I was running a sub-rosa
> cabinetmaking shop behind my house, in a residential area - and I
> didn't want anybody to rat me out to the township. But I was retired
> from professional cabinetmaking now and thought to give Bindlestiff a
> piece of my mind.
>
> It was only the fear of being physically accosted by a six foot five,
> better than an eighth ton duck that made me open the doors quietly and
> say,
>
> "Hello, Bindlestiff."
>
> "I could see from the road that you was working in here. Can you cut
> the tongue offa this piece of flooring for me", quacks Bindlestiff.
>
> He held out a gnarly chunk of prefinished oak flooring, with a
> battered tongue and about a dozen nail holes along its twelve-inch
> length.
>
> "I tried to beat it in to make it fit but it wouldn't lay down and I
> don't have no more pieces left."
>
> "Sure", says I, so used to keeping peace with the neighbors that I did
> not express my inner thought of just where this mangled piece of
> flooring should rightly go.
>
> I went to the tablesaw to retrieve the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
>
> "Boy, you sure did jump when I knocked on your door."
>
> "Yeah, too much coffee, I guess.", says I, while thinking about what
> kind of substances Mother Bindlestiff must have ingested during
> Bindlestiff's gestation period to produce such an awkward lump of
> flesh.
>
> I retrieved the Leuco from the bowels of the Unisaw cabinet and set
> about looking it over very carefully.
>
> Listen here, I had interviewed three different saw sharpeners before
> selecting one to sharpen that blade. It has a funny tooth
> configuration, with a hollowed tooth that comes to real sharp points
> on the outside edges - and it needs someone who won't mangle it
> according to the usual practice of sharpening shops. The guy I picked
> had kept the blade in primo condition for over fifteen years, without
> wasting any carbide.
>
> It was my best blade for fine crosscut work.
>
> As to why I mounted it with the intent of ripping the tongue off of
> the flooring piece, I couldn't tell you. I guess I just wanted to get
> Bindlestiff out of my shop as quickly as possible.
>
> I didn't see any damage to the blade and set about to fire up the
> Unisaw.
>
> "I pulled all the nails out real good." Says Bindlestiff, and, taking
> him at his word, and not seeing any evidence of metal in the holes, I
> turned on the saw.
>
> I've a long-standing habit of staying out of the line of fire when
> turning on the tablesaw. Over the years I've had a few blades spit
> teeth at me when the saw started up and I no longer even think about
> standing where they can get me.
>
> Bindlestiff, not being particularly mechanical, as evidenced by his
> violated flooring board, had not learned any protective strategies in
> this regard - and he stood right in line with the Leuco when she
> started up. I'd told him to stand off to the side but Bindlestiff
> ain't much of a listener.
>
> I got about four inches into the cut when all hell broke loose.
>
> The shrapnel caught Bindlestiff right in the middle of his, "I'd
> Rather Be Bowling" tee shirt and described a straight line through the
> dancing bowling pin graphic, from just below his neck to just above
> his belt.
>
> Bindlestiff emitted a huge quack and had the most perfect look of
> shock and stupefaction on his face. Three small blood blossoms
> overtook the washed out colors of the "IRBB" tee shirt.
>
> A fourth tooth had shattered the fluorescent tube in the overhead
> light and shards of thin glass, along with a powdery substance wafted
> down onto Bindlestiff's head.
>
> The carbide didn't go in too deep. Bindlestiff picked the pieces out
> with his fingers. They were shaking pretty good.
>
> I'd shut the saw down by reflex and once I saw that Bindlestiff wasn't
> mortally wounded, I picked up the piece of oak flooring.
>
> The evidence was clear. There was a shiny piece of cut off flooring
> nail winking out from the board's edge.
>
> "I had to twist one of them nail heads off." Says Bindlestiff, while
> fingering a puckered spot on his vast belly - that wasn't really
> bleeding much at all.
>
> Well, old Bindlestiff wasn't hurt much. He had a few dents in his gut
> and some glass that we had to blow out of his hair with the air
> compressor.
>
> He left the shop, with a new respect for the truth about hidden nails
> and a promise to pay for the Leuco ($180.00 in 1987 money).
>
> I watched him walk down the road and thought about how getting a set
> of shades for the French doors might not be such a bad idea.
>
>
> Thomas J. Watson-Cabinetmaker (ret)
> Real Email is: tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet
> Website: http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1