A bit more about my fondness for restoring old
machinery. I used to teach Product
Design at Stanford with a man named Bob McKim. Whenever someone would say “form follows function” to him,
he would say no, the real win is for function to be obvious when looking at a
product. Perhaps a bit more
difficult in these days of software, the cloud, and electronic boxes, but worth
thinking about. Perhaps the reason
I liked the book Tubes I mentioned in my post of July 3rd is that the author went and found out what the
“cloud” looked like—not very ethereal, but much more satisfying than the
miraculous “heaven-based” force for good being promoted by computer companies.
This photograph is a “before picture”. It shows the majority of the parts for
a post drill, a very common tool used to drill holes before the advent of
fractional horsepower electric motors.
It had belonged to the grandfather of a handyman who works in the area,
and he had found out that I like to rescue old machinery and wanted to know if I wanted to restore it.
The next photograph
shows the parts de-rusted, painted, and equipped with a few missing ones and a
bit of welding. It is difficult to see in the photos, but the workings of
the drill are obvious, and when the crank (or wheel) is turned, the drill
spins, and can be set to automatically advance itself with much interesting
motion and clicking of gear and ratchet teeth. Young kids love it, and quickly figure out how it works and
how to use it to drill holes. I love it too. In fact, I sometimes use it to drill holes, despite that
fact that I own a modern drill press and several drill motors. I find it elegant in its simplicity,
and satisfying in that I know exactly what every part of it does. I also feel
good about rescuing it from the scrap pile.
The last photo shows a larger machine I restored — a 1910
steam tractor— which is even more of a kid magnet. In fact I think it may
outdraw most playground equipment, partly because it is more challenging to
climb on, and once again, kids
seem to love it and rather rapidly figure out how it works (what does this do?
What is this? What makes the wheels turn?
What are these gears for?)
I believe that there is something innate in us (especially when we are kids) that makes us
respond positively to products of industry that we can understand by looking at
them, to say nothing of the fact
that if we can understand them, we can and want to fix them when they are ill. It is annoying, but I don't mind turning in a broken computer for "recycling". But no way would I do that to my bicycle.
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