The other day a came home with a van full of possibilities.
To many people it looks like a load of junk, but I see something different behind the rust and grime. I can't wait to get working.
All these lovely, rusted things came from my dad's workshop, high in the loft. My dad helped me get them down. We walked carefully over a creaky ceiling/floor, on beams, down two different ladders. At one point there was a loud bang and the floor of the loft (which is really the ceiling of the shop below) dropped a bit. My mom screamed. I may have too. I'm not sure. My dad calmly said, "Oh, I guess there's too much weight up here. Don't worry there's a large beam holding everything up". Great. I started standing just on the beams. Not easy, considering the beams were round - logs, still with the bark on. But it was worth it.
All these things belonged to my great-grandfathers and a friend of my dad's. They once had a purpose. And will again soon, but they won't be used for their original purpose.
Do you see the old keys? Love.