The workbench is more than a surface - it’s a snapshot of who we are between projects. This time I’ll take a tour through the clutter, chaos, and character of the place where ideas start, repairs stall, and memories pile up alongside mystery bolts and dried-out tubes of RTV. If your bench tells a story, this one's for you.
Let’s clear something up: the workbench isn’t just a flat surface. It’s a map. A memory bank. A junkyard. A confession booth. It’s where you solve problems, lose tools, build things, break things, and - more often than not - set something down and forget where you put it.
Mine has seen decades of action, disasters, and small triumphs. It’s cluttered, cracked, dented, stained, and absolutely perfect. And yes, there’s stuff on there that’s been sitting for months (or years). But it’s there for a reason.
So, what’s on my workbench right now? Glad you asked.
1. A distributor I took apart “just to see.” I told myself I’d put it back together the same day. That was six months ago. But every time I see it, I think about the engine it came from and the night it left me stranded. Now it’s part science experiment, part paperweight.
2. Three opened tubes of RTV none of them are completely usable. All of them have dried-up caps and one good squeeze left. But I’m not throwing them away because... I don’t know. Maybe I’m hoping one of them still has a miracle gasket in it.
3. A socket I don’t recognize. It doesn’t match any of my sets. It’s either from a friend who forgot it or a sign that another incomplete set is now inevitable. Either way, it’s earned its place.
4. An aluminum bracket I machined wrong. It doesn’t fit anything. But it almost did. That makes it educational. I keep it there to remind myself that “close enough” is sometimes just another way of saying “try again.”
5. A shop rag that could testify in court. It’s been through grease, gas, transmission fluid, brake cleaner, and at least one chili dog. It should be thrown out. But we’ve been through a lot together.
6. A half-disassembled carburetor. It’s from a project I promised I’d finish last winter. It’s technically in progress, but right now it’s doing an excellent job of holding down a wiring diagram.
7. A Sharpie that only works when I’m not trying to use it - Enough said.
8. Three bolts I can’t identify (but might need someday). They’re probably from something I sold years ago. But they’re clean, usable, and have just enough thread left to make me feel guilty about tossing them.
People talk about cleaning up their workbench like it’s some moral victory. And sure, I could clear it all off, start fresh, put everything in its place. But here’s the truth: my workbench isn’t messy. It’s alive.
It’s a snapshot of ideas, intentions, and the kind of tinkering that doesn’t always go according to plan.
It tells the truth about what I’ve been working on. What I’ve been avoiding. What I tried, failed, and still want to figure out. It’s personal. It’s honest. And if you ever want to know what kind of car guy someone really is - don’t look at their trophy shelf. Look at their workbench. Because what’s on it says more than they ever will.
I would love to hear what’s on your workbench. If you have any thoughts, comments or just want to share an old car memory, please contact me at: [email protected] Looking forward to hearing from you!