I haven't thrown real darts in years, but once a dart board just like this hung on the shop wall. Like all farms the shop had purpose, the number of projects produced within it's walls is incredible to think about all these years later.
I learned how to sharpen a knife at daddy's knee, then prove my ability sharpening a pencil. The old man knew how to sharpen a pencil, the point came out perfect and far less was ground away than a mechanical pencil sharpener would have wasted. But old farmers survived the Great Depression and at least one World War doing without, being wasteful was not just sinful but shameful as well......
Knife blades mastered, tuning lawn mower engines and blades came next, not to mention vehicle maintenance......and my personal favorite busting your knuckles open replacing cultivator blades. Farm boys learned to be men in shops working on about anything and everything under the sun. But shops also had another purpose......
Farm shops were the one place you could hide from mom on rainy days to escape the honey-do list. Our shop would hold a couple vehicles or tractors, more in the summer if you scooted the potbellied stove off to the side. But normally the ole Dixie King stove was leaking a red glow, and quite often dad had a pot of beans cooking on top. Don't get me wrong, mom was the chief cook and bottle washer...but a smoke flavored pot of daddy's great northern beans just hit different.
Slow days, dad would suggest a friendly game of darts, all the while telling me stories about playing washers. Many suburban homes have a washer set stored in a basement or garage....but the ole timers buried a coffee can in the ground. Points were greater for a washer landed in the can, but the surrounding area of worn out grass scored points too. I always said I was going to make an old fashion washer court..... but never did. Maybe that will be a project for grandkids to use some day........
Sitting around a blazing fire emitting heat out of a Dixie King stove called for snacks..... dad's favorite was a lesson in using a hammer and a knife. Five gallon buckets of walnuts lined the shop wall, using a hammer to crack open the nuts we then used our trusty Old Timer pocket knives to dig out the "meat" of the nut. It was a slow process... but the only thing better than walnuts opened with a hammer was crushing 2 pecans together with your hand proving your manhood..... especially when you were not yet 10 years old.
Dad made strong coffee on that on Dixie King.....if I close my eyes I can smell...nearly tasting his cowboy coffee as we speak..... I can also remember the smell and taste of WD-40.
For a while at least a can of WD-40 lived on a shelf next to the dart board.....then one bad toss punctured a brand new can, sending a rocket blast of WD-40 into my face....... LOL, remember that part about not wasting...... dad acted like it wasn't funny. But in time I would learn dad was stern to help keep me in check, when the truth was more often than not he wanted to bust out laughing at my bullshit......
What does WD-40 smell and taste like.......?.....disappointment. Actually I think it's like BBQ made by every newlywed husband on their first attempt at being the man of the house.... I do believe every new husband has failed to produce eatable food at least once...and his bride points out daddy's food never tasted like that.....
It's hard to replace dad..... you never will. Everyone's dad was perfect in their memories....that's because we all look back at our parents after knowing them as a finished product. We were too young to remember when Thanksgiving Dinner sucked..... forgotten is the time mom used salt in place of sugar to make the cake..... or dad produced food more like charcoal than the burgers you crave as an adult.....
I hope you got to experience a shop.... used a knife to eat a snack or had your first beer from the farm cooler with the uncle no one ever trusted to watch you.......
