Lost Arts studio

A lot of the fiber arts I enjoy are things like tatting, netmaking, chair caning, and even weaving, where people will come up to me when I demonstrate and solemnly tell me, "That's a lost art."

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Location: SW Outer Nowhere, Michigan, United States

On the Internet, nobody knows you're a chicken. (With apologies to Peter Steiner.)

23 March 2010

Random Story From My Colorful Past

Once upon a time (as all the best stories begin), my husband, an avid roleplaying gamer, and I made friends with a blacksmith.

The blacksmith and some of his friends were also roleplaying gamers, and so every month or so we'd go up to the blacksmith's house and game until I fell asleep on the floor.

(In those days I could and did fall asleep anywhere, including hard floors with dubious carpets. Ah, youth!)

On one of those gaming occasions, we walked down the street to the little grocery store and picked up snacks to sustain us, and as we were all walking back, another friend drove into town and slowed down when she recognized us.

Some of our party decided walking up the little hill and around the corner was too far, so they . . . sat on the hood of her car. And laughing and driving slowly, she drove as far as the railroad crossing.

Where apparently the bumpiness of the crossing and the weight on her hood made some metal bit touch her battery, because there was a flash and a zap and one person leaped off her car, rubbing his rear end.

The car stopped. The people who had been riding all jumped off and started pushing the dead car up the hill and around the corner to the blacksmith's yard.

Someone opened the hood and took out a melted connector. The blacksmith gave it that hmmmm that people who fix stuff recognize. He went in the back yard and fired up the propane forge and waited for it to heat up.

When he put this piece in the coals - it evaporated. More hmmming, a different bit of connective metal, some magic pounding with hammers. A new part.

And the car ran again.

(I get to blame Julie for bringing this one to mind.)

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Blogger Julie said...


11:21 PM  
Blogger Knit - R - Done said...

I miss having rambunctous, geeky friends.

12:53 AM  
Blogger Roxie said...

My older brothers got all drunked dup with their buddies and one of the buddies straddled the hood ornament on the front of someone else's car and rode whooping down the road till the driver suddenly hit the brakes. The young man left two important bits of tissue on the hood ornament. I always worry when I hear about somone riding on the front of a car.

Your blacksmit friend sounds like a slpendid resource!

9:29 AM  
Blogger Geek Knitter said...

The 'hmmmm" is powerful, no?

11:38 AM  
Blogger Barbara said...

I love a talented man who "hmmmm"s.

And my verification word? "penses" (you know my first thought, you can call me potty brain)

12:13 PM  
Blogger Knitting Linguist said...

What a great story! I had to laugh at the image of the poor butt-shocked person, leaping off the hood of the suddenly-dead car...

4:10 PM  
Blogger Donna Lee said...

I love that hmmmmm sound. It usually means a solution is in the offing.

That is a great story.

9:45 AM  

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