My Old Radio and Uncle Lewis
Spent some time tinkering with this dusty old radio I found in the garage the other day. Got me thinking about how I actually learned to fix things, not just toss ’em out and buy new ones. It all circles back to a guy we called Uncle Lewis.
He wasn’t blood, you know, just one of those neighbourhood guys everyone knew. Had this amazing little workshop behind his house. The smell, wood shavings and maybe a bit of engine oil, I can still picture it. Anyway, one summer my bicycle chain was giving me grief. Kept slipping. Dad was ready to just buy a whole new bike, said it was too much hassle.
But Lewis, he heard about it. Called me over. Didn’t just fix it. Nope. He pulled up a stool, grabbed some rags and tools, and made me sit there with him. We took the whole chain off the bike first. He showed me how to check each link, find the stiff ones. Then we got this can of stuff, strong smell, and cleaned every single piece. Took ages. Me, mostly making a mess, him patiently guiding. Then, carefully, oiling it just so, not too much. Finally, wrestling it back onto the bike, getting the tension right. That took us pretty much all afternoon.
- Taking the chain off carefully.
- Finding the stubborn links.
- Cleaning everything piece by piece.
- Applying the oil correctly.
- Putting it all back together.
Funny thing is, that whole summer almost didn’t happen. Things were tight for my folks back then. Real tight. Sending me off to stay near Lewis’s place, even though he never asked for a dime, cost money we barely had. I remember hearing Mum and Dad whispering about it late one night, sounded stressed. But they managed it somehow. That time wasn’t just about bikes, though. It was watching Lewis work. He’d take apart anything – clocks, lawnmowers, radios like this one. He’d figure them out. Didn’t always succeed, mind you, but he always tried. He taught me that trying, really looking at how things are put together, that’s the important bit.
So now, when something packs up, like this radio crackling and dying, my first instinct isn’t the online store. It’s grabbing a screwdriver. I popped the back off this thing. Looked around inside. Blew out some dust bunnies. Checked the wires, fiddled with the contacts. Nothing looked obviously broken.
Gave all the connections a good wipe down with some contact cleaner I keep around. Put it back together, plugged it in, and held my breath. Static… then music! Clear as anything. Just needed a good clean after sitting quiet for so long.
It’s not really about saving a few bucks buying a new radio. It’s the feeling, you know? The satisfaction. And remembering Uncle Lewis and that greasy bike chain. Made me feel a bit less useless in the world. Thanks, Uncle Lewis, wherever you are.
