We’ve placed an order for ten feet of 1″ steel tubing. From the steel place. Awesome. Why, you ask? So I can weld a chair creation. Yes, that’s what I said: So I can weld a chair creation.
My man Chris is not really a welder, although he certainly welds. I found him through a friend who said Chris can do anything I need. He builds custom motorcycles. In other words, Reader, he fiddles outside the box. He doesn’t follow the rules (You need to go there and SEE the motorcycles in that shop!). That’s why his business has the word “Chopper” in it.
So, he looked over the rusted-beyond-description chairs I hauled over there, and when I asked if we could weld them back together, he shook his head. But when he realized that I thought his shake of the head meant we had to send the chairs to the recycling place, he shook his head again. He said we’re gonna use the rusted chairs for practice and for parts.
We? Practice? Yes…Chris is gonna teach me to weld, and I’m gonna practice on these chairs.
Parts? Yes…we’re gonna put these chairs back together however the hell we want to…we’re gonna make custom chairs. From steel. Steel that I personally weld and drill and bend.
I don’t know why Chris wants to do this. I keep asking him that. I ask him if he’ll be sorry he offered to get into this stuff with me, and he repeatedly says, No. He says it’s a nice distraction from his usual work. We like one another, you know. I mean, I always instinctively hug him as if he’s one of my dearest friends, and vice versa. We brighten up when we see one another. I liked him from the get-go. It’s just one of those things.
Chris is a perfectionist. He’s already critical of a nick I made in the steel when I got sloppy cutting a bolt loose (I get impatient). He says not in his shop. In his shop, we do it right.
He’s clearing out a corner of his shop for Liz’s Chairs. He’s gonna teach me to TIG weld. And bend steel. And think creatively about metal things.