Thursday, August 27, 2009
Walking over to the biggest worktable, I began pulling off the heavy-duty plastic that covered an object underneath. As I pulled, yellow metal began to show through; it was another plane body, bigger even than that of the Veri-Eeze on the other side of the room. When I was a baby, dad started work on a plane with a body made of sheets of metal riveted together. The rivets were scattered all over the basement and I have distinct memories of sucking on them and being fascinated by their smooth fatness and bronzey-green color. For whatever reason, that plane was never completed, and as I looked, I could see that its parts occupied every corner of the shop. Tellingly, Dad had made a work-table out of the body of the plane by placing a slab of plywood on top of it, effectively removing it from sight and mind.