Rawge's Old Truck Project Tips

The Dangers of Scissors
I am sure that you have heard about the danger of scissors. You have been told not to run with them, to be careful around your fingers, and not to carry them in your pocket. I have recently learned that scissors can be far more dangerous when used by the wrong hands.

The other day I was cutting some gasket material to make a new water pump gasket. I have made this same gasket a few times now, and seem to have the procedure down to a science. I am just anal enough to have saved a pattern of every gasket I have ever made. 

I was almost finished cutting around the drawn lines when I heard a "snap", and I found my self holding two pieces of scissors. No problem I thought. I quickly located a small bolt, placed it into the hole the previously held a rivet and resumed my cutting. Apparently a small bolt and nut can not replace a 3 cent rivet as the pair would no longer cut. The blades still went up and down and made some scissor-like noises, but produced no cutting action. Oh well, the house if full of scissors.

I turned to my son and sent him to the house to fetch a pair from our "junk" drawer. He returned, holding a new pair of shiny blue-handled scissors carefully by the blade. I took them from his hand and started cutting. Wow!! This was nothing like the worn-out pair of scissors we've had in our tool box - This was a REAL pair of scissors. They cut so smoothly and each edge looked like it had been cut at a factory. The blades sliced through the gasket material with ease and followed even the trickiest curve. It was so much fun, we finished making the original gasket and then made spare gaskets for everything we owned.... water pump gaskets, steering box gaskets, fuel pump gaskets, valve cover gaskets...

About two days later, I was laying under the truck on the driveway, when my beautiful wife came out to see if I was making a mess. She hadn't even fully stopped her walk when she noticed the pair of scissors buried three wrenches deep in my tool box.

"Are those my good sewing scissors?" she screamed in a voice so high and mean that the hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. As with previous encounters with this voice, I was overcome with fear. I tried to speak, but only managed to look toward the toolbox. 

"Yes! Those scissors!!!!" Her eyes had narrowed into slits and her eyebrows had slanted into a deep "V". She was the perfect picture of a woman that was about to kill her husband.

" How did they get out here??!!" she shrieked.

After a few seconds, I regained some of my strength. My mind raced as I searched for an explanation that would make everything alright again. The only thing I could think of was to blame it on the boy.

"Are those yours, baby?" I asked in my take my wallet, my money, but please don't kill me voice. "The boy brought them out here. I had no idea where he had gotten them"

She reached in a picked up the greasy scissors with her finger and thumb, the way someone might pick up a dead mouse. She disappeared around the corner, holding them at arms length. 

"These scissors cost me $150....If you've torn them up, I'll...." and the front door slammed behind her.

I guess the scissors still cut her muslins and percales, as I haven't heard another word about it. I am sure the scissors are back safely tucked into the little wicker sewing basket and I am now back to gnawing gaskets with my black and silver shop scissors. But, I will never forget the magical few minutes I spent with the sewing scissors. Sometimes, when I am alone under the truck, I close my eyes and find my mind cutting graceful curves through a piece of gasket material, like a downhill skier cutting slaloms on a powdery mountain.

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**** Strictly for entertainment purposes - not to be taken too seriously!! :)