Watch out pieces of lumber; I have a nail gun and won’t hesitate to use it

By John Toth

The Bulletin

I always wanted to own a nail gun but never really had a good excuse to buy one - until now.

There is a large workshed next to the Bulletin Hideaway, which has not been getting all that much attention. It has been something like “out of sight, out of mind,” even though it was not all that much out of sight. It was more like, out of mind.

Recently, I noticed that this huge, overbuilt structure that serves the sole purpose of putting in there what was no longer needed or wanted in the house, was not repairing itself, and it was beginning to show. The major problem was that the shed was missing some of its 1x6-inch planks right under the roof. I believe they are called the “soffit” in the business.

The missing planks allowed nearby critters, like racoons, to have access to the shed’s interior, which is always bad news. The solution was to hire someone to fix the soffit, which would have cost money, or buy some 1x6 treated boards and replace them myself, which also cost money.

I decided that this was a great opportunity to do some DIY and rekindle the skills I acquired while working in a summer camp during my high school and college years. I was pretty good at fixing things then, and I was quickly promoted to head of maintenance - after the top guy quit.

The reason I wanted that job so much was because it paid a lot better than just being one of the helpers. It also came with a private room on the second floor of the Administration Building. That was a huge perk in a place where even counselors did not have private rooms.

I did make full use of my new surroundings by organizing late-night poker games, attended by the camp chef, his assistant, camp secretary, and whoever else wanted to come, because they had the next day off and could sleep in.

To keep this incredible housing deal, three helpers and I were responsible for the maintenance of the entire camp. I learned quickly how to replace heater cores in electric water heaters, maintain cabin shutters, fix toilets and build whatever the camp needed.

I was the jack of all trades, and I liked that summer job so much that I kept it until I graduated college. We had all the tools we required to do just about anything. But we didn’t have a nail gun. Maybe they weren’t even around in the 1970s, I don’t know. But I sure could have used one.

The shed’s condition now gave me a reason to buy one, since I really did not want to hammer all those nails into the new boards by hand.

I drove to the big-box home improvement store to buy it and get the wood and everything else needed to get this job done on the cheap. Luckily, I was able to track down a sales person on the floor, who helped me out tremendously. Things have changed a lot since my camp maintenance days.

He helped me pick up the nail gun I needed and the nails, and then I protested the cost.

“What, $38 for a box of nails? Are they made out of gold?

“No,” the team member said. “There are 5,000 nails in that box.”

There were no smaller boxes, so I bought it. I now have nails for life.

I excitedly unboxed the nail gun when we got back to the hideaway, and even read the instructions some. Operating a nail gun is no rocket science, so I quickly got down to replacing the fallen soffit planks.

Those nails shot into the wood like a knife cuts through butter. I was hooked. I wanted to keep shooting nails into the wood, but all the soffit had been replaced. If I had one of these in summer camp, I could have rebuilt the whole camp, although I probably would have had to buy another box of nails.

I didn’t want to stop. What else needed fixing? Look, this bannister on the porch is loose. A few shots from the nailgun took care of that. Look, a corner piece has split by the stairs. Bang, bang, bang. Done. That was easy. What else needed to be nailed down?

I was having fun, but forced myself to stop.

It was time to clean up the place and put the nail gun away until next time. The shed is being inspected closer now. The critters are outside, looking in, and I have a new toy.

Send email to: john.bulletin@gmail.com