I found this little ball-peen hammer beside the road one day in the late 1970s. Was a carpenter at the time, waiting for the boss to pick me up on the way to a worksite some hour or so away. We carpooled, and since his truck had the big tools, he got to drive.
The handle broke yesterday. I haven't used it daily since the 70s, but I have probably used it weekly or more, certainly since the mid-1990s, when it's been hanging on the rack above my workbench. Comes in handy for all sorts of minor little chores.
Fortunately, I had recently rehandled a slightly bigger hammer head, a survivor from the Grandjean fire last August that took out my friend Jan's cabin and two others.
And with that, I was able to finish putting a new handle on yet another hammer head from Jan, this one not in the fire, but just the right thing for our upcoming Viking party.
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