I will talk about cars in a moment, I promise you, but from the presenter to mind: In the last week I had to put a gate. Or rather, two of them, join back back, at a very natural height 1.5M but generally 20 cm with a thickness of 40 cm.
I knew I needed tools for this. In any final arrangement, you need a tape measure, T-Square, Soul level, heavy hammer, raatt belt, saw, drilling (with very few), commissioner (preferably preferred to projected), club hammer and cross screw nails.
If you are missing any one element, the task will go, in varying degrees, from more difficult to nearly impossible. Because I miss anything, I will not try it, and the only tool I used to use it will be a phone.
If something I find is completely angry (I will admit that this is a lot of things these days), this is not able to do a job because I miss the right group.
Thus, as a result: I love the tools. Not much until I adore the same tools, and not the way I love cars. I do not spend hours sticking to Screwfix or Machine Mart sites in the way I might be Caterham formations or Indian motorcycle components.
I do not polish two Jacks in the evening [I’ve tried various tools there to find one that doesn’t sound too much like a euphemism]. I just love the tools that allow me to do.
Although, given that they are tools, perhaps by definition, they amount to the same. If the feeling is similar to the company I get from cars, this is that the tools provide a feeling of freedom. I can make things, and I will enjoy them.
I can fix things, and although I may not enjoy them because they hinder a cup of tea and the Yellowston ring, I have options on how to repair and when and perhaps. Perhaps I will learn something on the way as well.
Without tools, there are some things that I did not simply: greenhouse, stored wood, SIM SIM platform, Gran Turismo platform, dining room table that outweighs me, two modified cars and a motorcycle that lives in a shelter.