I know, I know. Let the bashing begin.
If you had told me a few weeks ago that I would go antiquing, I would have laughed and called you insane. But recently I did just that.
Believe me, it wasn’t like I planned this. I was taking my girlfriend to pick up an application at a local shop, and I saw this antique store that I had passed a few times but never entered. I figured she might enjoy it, and we had some time to hang out, so we went in.
At first, I was a bit overwhelmed. There was just stuff. Stuff from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and I was afraid that I would knock something over because the passages were so narrow. Luckily my girlfriend didn’t have this problem because she is tiny :)
After poking around for a bit, something caught my eye. It was a pile of old tools, some rusted some looking like they had just been forged. I was instantly hooked. I dug around for probably 20 minutes picking up this thing and that, wondering what each tool’s purpose was.
Eventually I settled on three. One was a combination hole punch and what I will call a “short little line” punch. The second was a simple ball-peen hammer that I liked. The third is my favorite of the lot, something I have come to understand is called a Farrier’s Nipper. Go figure. It’s basically like tongs used for clipping metal, I guess. I figured they would work as real tongs, then I could modify them a bit for a better grip. Total price was $13.
After dropping the diminutive one off, I decided to check the other stores in the area. It’s not a large town, but there were three other antique stores around so I checked them all. The first two had nothing of interest, but the third proved useful. At first I was skeptical, since the ladies working there looked prissy and way too polished up. I meandered to the back and found a small treasure trove of tools. Most were modern, but there were some nice older hammers there.
That’s when I saw her. She was beautiful, solid, and looked like she had some experience. Just holding her in my hands filled me with a sense of belonging. She was a 4-pound cross-peen hammer with fading red tape wrapped around the handle. The balance was perfect, and she just fit. And at $4.50, I had to have her.
It was a fiery romance from the beginning. I dressed her up in some electrical tape to improve the grip and hide the mildly unattractive red tape which was her only flaw. I named her Ahmer (pronounced “ommerr” with a slight roll of the R at the end) for the Arabic word for red.
So here we are now. I have her cradled lovingly in my lap as I type this, the warmth of my body transferring to her metal. I have a feeling she will provide me with many thrills as of yet unknown to me. It’s a beautiful thing we share…
Anyway, I know it’s still unmanly as all hell to go antiquing, but dammit where the hell else am I going to find these things?
Oh and as a side note, if you happen to have or know someone who has an anvil, do not hesitate to let me know.