My father's drill
Repair, not replace
My father taught me everything about DIY.
The first experience I can remember was changing a tyre on the drive of our family home on Countess Lane in Radcliffe. I can’t recall the car, possibly a Triumph 2000, but do remember being about eight years old.
His tutelage was brilliant, always by example, letting me copy what he did, making my own mistakes than giving me ways to correct them usually with a Benson & Hedges cigarette hanging from his mouth. To this day remember how hard it was to undo the wheel nuts and him showing me how to extend the wheel brace with a piece of pipe. Great teaching.
I also vividly recall him buying this Bosch drill and also me asking to ‘borrow’ it. The answer was always no as he knew, quite rightly, that he would probably never get it back.
When he died it was the only thing I took of his from my mother's house.
It continued to serve me well until a particularly tough session drilling a series of holes in concrete when setting up the Supertone studio in Portugal. It finally ground to a halt in a dramatic shower of sparks and stopped working.
Thinking ‘that was that’ I took it to the local DIY store in Samora Correia to show them the type of replacement drill required. The man in the store looked it and in front of my eyes took it to pieces to reveal the bushes which were totally burnt out and asked me if I wanted to order new ones.
This was my first experience of the Portuguese ‘repair not replace’ culture - mentioned in my article 10 things about Portugal - and was a little taken back but of course, I said yes and seven days later picked up the new bushes and fitted them. The drill works perfectly again.
Of course, even if it never worked again I would continue to move it around the world, on permanent loan, as it holds great memories of the man and his wisdom.
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