Step 3: You'll like my ass-end [of my toolbox-bench]
First study the wheels, so placed as to be off the floor when the toolbox is working, but to contact the floor when traveling, lifted and towed by the handle at the other end.
NOTE: when using the vises at the other end to saw off the ends of long things, make sure the saw blade clears the front end by a half inch or so; if not, you will saw into the fold-down metal handle despite that it is doing its best to lay flat against the side. If you leave sawteeth marks in the handle, they will forever remain a testament to your hasty moment, immediately obvious, say, to your stolid great-aunt, coming to inspect your new place and to ensure that you are honing after sharpening.
I take a brief moment to suggest that you can get a date by telling your proto-date about this box. It is that good (the box, I mean). Build a narrative about its uniqueness, its multifunctionality, its tool marks -- each nick and stain is a story. Tell her or him or them (it is the 21st century; why not?) a riddle: "What is 1 x 1 x 4 feet in dimension, made of wood, and can build a world?" DO NOT have a ready answer ready, even when they gaze in dismay on your toolbox-bench (the smells of a good meal simmering in the kitchen will help out). The key is in extemporaneous performance; any date smart enough for you can tell a slick pre-memorized story from a sensitive and caring made-on-the-spot story; nobody admires a canned performance. Now use this scenario as a test; (a) if they are disappointed, they can be let go politely after the dinner, for they have no imagination, or (b)if they slowly examine the box and try to see in it what you see; they should be kept around for a second date.
Please note the hastily added tool holders. I was using some tools so much that I kept them in the convenient holders (just below the top so I could still work on long workpieces); pliers, screwdrivers, bench stops for planing (ie, short bolts, as shown), pencil, compass, awl, and scabbard for a 4-in-1 wood file in the nifty samurai quickdraw position.
And we are done! Final comment: you could make this bench in Bristol fashion out of great wood, great joinery, and great finish (I just slapped on linseed oil now and then, tung oil would be better). The top takes the beating (the sides can be preserved pretty well), and that could be sanded frequently and re-oiled if you live with that special someone who cannot tolerate a workshop-looking toolbox-bench in the crowded apartment.
NOTE: when using the vises at the other end to saw off the ends of long things, make sure the saw blade clears the front end by a half inch or so; if not, you will saw into the fold-down metal handle despite that it is doing its best to lay flat against the side. If you leave sawteeth marks in the handle, they will forever remain a testament to your hasty moment, immediately obvious, say, to your stolid great-aunt, coming to inspect your new place and to ensure that you are honing after sharpening.
I take a brief moment to suggest that you can get a date by telling your proto-date about this box. It is that good (the box, I mean). Build a narrative about its uniqueness, its multifunctionality, its tool marks -- each nick and stain is a story. Tell her or him or them (it is the 21st century; why not?) a riddle: "What is 1 x 1 x 4 feet in dimension, made of wood, and can build a world?" DO NOT have a ready answer ready, even when they gaze in dismay on your toolbox-bench (the smells of a good meal simmering in the kitchen will help out). The key is in extemporaneous performance; any date smart enough for you can tell a slick pre-memorized story from a sensitive and caring made-on-the-spot story; nobody admires a canned performance. Now use this scenario as a test; (a) if they are disappointed, they can be let go politely after the dinner, for they have no imagination, or (b)if they slowly examine the box and try to see in it what you see; they should be kept around for a second date.
Please note the hastily added tool holders. I was using some tools so much that I kept them in the convenient holders (just below the top so I could still work on long workpieces); pliers, screwdrivers, bench stops for planing (ie, short bolts, as shown), pencil, compass, awl, and scabbard for a 4-in-1 wood file in the nifty samurai quickdraw position.
And we are done! Final comment: you could make this bench in Bristol fashion out of great wood, great joinery, and great finish (I just slapped on linseed oil now and then, tung oil would be better). The top takes the beating (the sides can be preserved pretty well), and that could be sanded frequently and re-oiled if you live with that special someone who cannot tolerate a workshop-looking toolbox-bench in the crowded apartment.
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Not NiceInappropriateSpamlgamer says:
May 15, 2012. 9:40 PMReply
Seriously, as the pseudo (don't ask) only-child of a mechanic, I would date a guy who told me about his box. This is cool along the lines of Martha Stewart (whom I love, but in a different way) cool. The holes for clamps, the wheels, the vice, it's all so wonderful I could shed tears...
14
Wade Tarzia (author) says:
May 15, 2012. 7:57 PMReplyThanks. Sure thing, a box for Martha Stewart's more rugged twin sister :-) What is not to love about practical boxes? They are the Swiss Army Knives of furniture if you build them with features that adapt to you and your space.
Matt_Costa says:
Jun 1, 2007. 8:23 PMReply
I must say this is an excellent instructable. Great idea for people like me who already have too much stuff in their living space.
14
Wade Tarzia (author) says:
Jun 5, 2007. 2:25 PMReplyThanks, although this box would count as 'additional stuff. ;-) At least if you made it a bit differently, add your own touches and build it high-quality, it could look like just another piece of unobtrusive furniture. Benches are low-profile and can be hardly noticed under the right conditions.
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