No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.Lewis Carroll, Mock Turtle, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Every woodworker has tools they need to store. The longer one is at it, and the wider one’s competent range of skills, the more tools one needs.
There are those who advocate owning minimal tools, as if owning many tools is an emotional burden and fewer tools is healthier. Perhaps they are suffering from Marie Kondo syndrome.
Your humble and obedient servant has known old men like that; Guys that grew up during the Great Depression and could not afford many tools, regardless of quality, and so learned to accomplish many tasks with the few tools they had. Accomplishing the job without adequate tools was a necessity, which became a habit, and later a matter of pride. But often the efficiency and quality of their work suffered.
Or perhaps these minimalists are like a guy I used to work with who owned a favorite pair of expensive loafers and wore them to the office, to the beach, and when camping. He even boasted about wearing them last year to climb Mount Fuji. He is wealthy but strangely proud of owning only one pair of shoes.
Last time I saw his beloved shoes they were scuffed and ragged and didn’t look good with a suit, but he never wore business attire even when he should have. His shoes would suck big donkey donuts in the snow or mud so he didn’t venture into such environments. They didn’t have steel toes, so he had to ask someone else to do his jobsite inspections for him. Sure he had fewer shoes, but because of that, he was limited in where he could go, what he could do, and how much he enjoyed those activities. Just another sort of strange obsession, I suppose.
I have a different sort of obsession that I suspect sprang from a time when I had little money, but couldn’t earn the money I needed because I couldn’t afford the necessary tools. A frustrating situation many Gentle Readers may have also experienced.
I enjoy the confidence being able to do many different kinds of physical work competently brings. Those skills are useful, however, only because I own the tools necessary to perform that work. Accordingly, so long as I have the space, I would never get rid of quality useful tools because to do so would mean I could no longer perform the type of work those tools make possible.
So I confess to owning lots of tools. Maybe I need a 12 step program.
I don’t leave my tools laying around in a rusty jumble or, heaven forbid, hanging on pegs in a dusty garage. I store them effectively so they will last and be ready to rock-n-roll when I need them. This, however, takes thought and preparation.
The purpose of my writing this series of articles is to share with Gentle Reader one effective solution to tool storage and usage. If even one Gentle Reader finds it helpful or even just amusing, then I will count my time writing this well spent.
In this series of posts we will discuss storage chests in general and toolchests in particular. I will also share a description of my toolchest, it’s design, and the goals, objectives and rational that drove the design and construction. I will even reveal some its failings and the remedies I employed. Chuckling may ensue (ツ).
At this point, I can imagine many Gentle Readers rolling their eyes and saying to themselves: “Oh no, not another nitwit bragging about his toy box.” As the Arkansas horndog so often said with a slight crack in his compassionate voice: “I feel your pain.”
Much like proud parents posting pictures of their child’s alien-looking carrot puree-smeared visage on facebook to horrify the entire world, thousands of people have boasted about their toolchests online.
This is natural; Everyone is proud when a project is complete. We want to share our satisfaction with others at least partly because the accomplishment of the child reflects on the parent. But too often toolchest blogs are boring tales of unoriginal, unimproved, uninspiring designs and mediocre execution, so I don’t blame you if you suspect this just might be another such waste of time.
Considering past blogosphere disappointments, and the fact that even you, Gentle Reader (may you live forever), have limited time, I have worked hard to make this article informative and even useful with explanations, photographs, and even a roughly dimensioned drawing.
Of course, right now you are probably asking yourself “What qualifies this putz to write about toolchests and why should I bother to read it?” Good questions. No, I don’t mind the harsh language because I have often said the same thing to myself when reading other’s toolchest blogs, albeit with great dignity and refinement (ツ). Allow me to explain.
My first qualification for writing this is that I know what I am talking about. No, I am not a journalist, an author of books or a teacher. I don’t even teach classes about making toolchests, and never will, the gods of handsaws willing. I am no longer a professional woodworker, but was for many years when people paid me to make durable, useful buildings, furniture, casework and joinery for them. Indeed, now I manage other people to make such items for my customers and am focused like a laser on design, performance, cost and time effectiveness, and quality.
The second qualification is that, while this toolchest has its roots in a traditional design, it is neither a copy of, nor does it purport to be “faithful” to, traditional designs, whatever the heck that means. It was born from original thinking to solve specific problems. Its design is neither accidental nor experimental.
I know how to manage the design of buildings and millwork costing many hundreds of millions of US dollars, and applied that experience to this design. Consequently, I considered, revised and improved each detail and dimension on paper again and again over a period of several years even before buying the wood, and for good reasons. Of course, I continued to tweak the interior fitout and tool mounting methods during the years after it was completed, and repaired and repainted the outside after an attack by a rabid forklift, but the box itself is essentially unchanged. I will explain those reasons and the resulting details and will share my conclusions. Then you, Gentle Reader (may the hair on your toes never fall out), may judge for yourself.
I am not suggesting that the decisions reflected in this toolchest are the best possible, and that you should slavishly imitate them. Nay, each Gentle Reader’s requirements are different; Their sensibilities are their own; Each must reach their own conclusions.
I read constantly, and believe I benefit from learning about other people’s solutions to the problems I face. I certainly learned from others before I designed and made this toolchest. Hopefully the information contained in this series of posts will help you make wise decisions in your woodworking.
Perhaps my most useful qualification for writing this is that I own very valuable, custom handmade tools I enjoy using and want to preserve. I also researched, built, and later tested this toolchest’s actual performance in housing those tools in several locations around the globe. So the results I will present here are not just a reproduction of historical examples, nor one intended to photograph well for publication in a book or magazine. It is an original design with a track record of hard travel to multiple nations.
Indeed, this toolchest has not been sitting in one place for 25 years, but has followed me through multiple international relocations where it has been used and abused heavily, successfully passing all trials. This dynamic track record sets this toolchest apart from most modern examples.
In this series of posts I will first touch on the definition of a toolchest, and the goals, objectives and rationale that drove the design. Next I’ll discuss the pros and cons of toolchests, and how to compensate for their inherent shortcomings. Then I will address the materials and construction of my toolchest followed by the finish I used.
I hope you will find this series interesting and perhaps even useful. Chuckles are welcome.
If you have questions or would like to learn more about our tools, please click the “Pricelist” link here or at the top of the page and use the “Contact Us” form located immediately below.
Please share your insights and comments with everyone in the form located further below labeled “Leave a Reply.” We aren’t evil Google, fascist facebook, or thuggish Twitter and so won’t sell, share, or profitably “misplace” your information. If I lie may pirates pillage my toolchest.
Other Post in the Toolchests Series:
- Toolchests Part 1 – And Away We Go
- Toolchests Part 2 – History
- Toolchests Part 3 – Pros & Cons
- Toolchests Part 4 – Goals & Objectives
- Toolchests Part 5 – Formulating Performance Criteria
- Toolchests Part 6 – Key Performance Criteria Solutions 1 – Durability & Longevity
- Toolchests Part 7 – Key Performance Criteria Solutions 2 – Sealing, Insulation, Security, Portability & Tie-down
- Toolchests Part 8 – Under the Lid
- Toolchests Part 9 – Trays
- Toolchests Part 10 – The Dungeon
- Toolchests Part 11- The Bottom
- Toolchests Part 12 – The Sawtill
- Toolchests Part 13 – Finishes
- Toolchests Part 14 – Repairability
2 thoughts on “Toolchests Part 1 – And Away We Go”
Always remember – he who dies with the most tools wins! I’m looking forward to reading more!
My tools don’t go anywhere outside my shop so I don’t need a chest to carry to a job site. But I’m building a cabinet for my hand tools now and am looking forward to your thoughts on storage and fitting.