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I never saw it coming
You guys didn't warn me. Maybe I should have suspected it from some posts, but I have now fallen to one of the most insidious tool inflictions known to the tool-wielding species.
Hand plane psychosis.
It started innocently enough, like these stories always seem to. I had been making some boxes using rabbets lateley, and it occured to me "gosh, one of those old-fashioned plane thingies would be just the thing to trim that end grain that's ever so slightly proud." I couldn't really justify it, but then one of Doug Stowe's books showed hm using a block plane to flush up some inlay, and I got to thinking "gosh inlay isn't all that big a deal and would add a lot to my projects, but I am gonna need me one of them old-fashioned iron thingies he's using to trim it up."
And I read a little more and figured that I should get a block plane to start with.
And then that cursed event, the arrival of the Woodcraft flyer in the mail. If only my wife had discarded it before I got a chance to... but that's wishful thinking now.
Tempted by that 20 dollar Groz plane in this month's issue, I read some more. I figured three things out: 1) there's a lot to learn, so rehabbing an antique is not for me at this point, 2) I want to use the thing, not spend hours tuning it so the Groz is out, and 3) a good plane is a lifetime investment (see, the signs of psychosis, they're already evident...).
Those insidious Woodcraft people also had a very shiny looking plane on sale from some fancy-sounding company. I looked into it. Oh, made in the USA (wow, that's uncommon). These are evidently well-thought-of tools. It seemed as if the real bargain was to get the good plane. After all, I value my time, and aim to do woodwork, not metalwork. It all seemed so clear. What could it hurt, just another tool...
I never saw it coming.
I unboxed the thing and made several awkward passes at some cutoffs I had saved. I fiddled with the knobs. I adjusted and swiped and listened. Pretty soon, I heard this sound: ssssp. I stopped. A couple more passes, ssssp ssssp.
Oh.
Now this isn't to say that my technique is even adequate. But suddenly it all came to me in a flood. I need a workbench. And more of these old-fashioned iron thingies. Yes. Oh they come in so many different flavors. And sharpening gizmos and honing jigs and leather stops and...
This thing is gonna cost me a fortune. A real bargain this thing was. You guys shoulda told me.
Anyhow, the moral of the story is: Don't buy one of those fancy expensive planes (in particular the Lie-Nielsen low angle, adjustable mouth block plane that's on sale at Woodcraft this month). The precision, the quality of the expeience, it's just a little too much for us power tool guys. You will be sucked in, like so much dust into a cyclone.
Hand plane psychosis.
It started innocently enough, like these stories always seem to. I had been making some boxes using rabbets lateley, and it occured to me "gosh, one of those old-fashioned plane thingies would be just the thing to trim that end grain that's ever so slightly proud." I couldn't really justify it, but then one of Doug Stowe's books showed hm using a block plane to flush up some inlay, and I got to thinking "gosh inlay isn't all that big a deal and would add a lot to my projects, but I am gonna need me one of them old-fashioned iron thingies he's using to trim it up."
And I read a little more and figured that I should get a block plane to start with.
And then that cursed event, the arrival of the Woodcraft flyer in the mail. If only my wife had discarded it before I got a chance to... but that's wishful thinking now.
Tempted by that 20 dollar Groz plane in this month's issue, I read some more. I figured three things out: 1) there's a lot to learn, so rehabbing an antique is not for me at this point, 2) I want to use the thing, not spend hours tuning it so the Groz is out, and 3) a good plane is a lifetime investment (see, the signs of psychosis, they're already evident...).
Those insidious Woodcraft people also had a very shiny looking plane on sale from some fancy-sounding company. I looked into it. Oh, made in the USA (wow, that's uncommon). These are evidently well-thought-of tools. It seemed as if the real bargain was to get the good plane. After all, I value my time, and aim to do woodwork, not metalwork. It all seemed so clear. What could it hurt, just another tool...
I never saw it coming.
I unboxed the thing and made several awkward passes at some cutoffs I had saved. I fiddled with the knobs. I adjusted and swiped and listened. Pretty soon, I heard this sound: ssssp. I stopped. A couple more passes, ssssp ssssp.
Oh.
Now this isn't to say that my technique is even adequate. But suddenly it all came to me in a flood. I need a workbench. And more of these old-fashioned iron thingies. Yes. Oh they come in so many different flavors. And sharpening gizmos and honing jigs and leather stops and...
This thing is gonna cost me a fortune. A real bargain this thing was. You guys shoulda told me.
Anyhow, the moral of the story is: Don't buy one of those fancy expensive planes (in particular the Lie-Nielsen low angle, adjustable mouth block plane that's on sale at Woodcraft this month). The precision, the quality of the expeience, it's just a little too much for us power tool guys. You will be sucked in, like so much dust into a cyclone.
Welcome to the school of life
That experience should cure me.
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