By Garret Leiva
Community editor
May 14, 2008 04:00 am To the untrained eye it's an old coffee can filled with bolts, screws and other assorted junk. I call it my little miracle worker. Sitting on a shelf in the garage, next to the aerospace-grade duct tape, resides the magic coffee can. Call me nuts -- or having a few loose pan head screws -- but being a hardware hoarder pays off. No home improvement, auto repair, or ill-advised do-it-yourself project would be complete without dumping the contents of this can on the garage floor. As life-affirming inanimate objects go, the magic coffee can is the standard -- or metric -- by which all others are measured. Throughout the years, the magic coffee can has come through when I was hanging by a thread -- course or fine. After all, most put-together projects come with guarantees not covered by a 30 day warranty: hair-pulling instructions and AWOL hardware. The magic coffee can has saved my marriage, along with several trips to the hardware store. While it provides blessings of washers and wing nuts, the magic coffee can also demands sacrifice. Much like a Tiki volcano god, virgin hardware from previous projects must be pushed over the rim of Mt. Folgers Rich Colombian Coffee. Somewhere Juan Valdez weeps. Brought to life nearly 10 years ago, the magic coffee can is now brimming with assorted fasteners. The key word here being assorted, not sorted. While the vast majority of widgets and what-nots come from my own stash, I've snitched stuff from both my father's and grandfather's magic coffee cans. It's kind of like a sourdough starter dating back generations. I'm sure my daughter will be thrilled when she inherits this family heirloom. Then again, I'm not supposed to have a magic coffee can. My father-in-law was taken aback when I first pulled the can out to search for a bolt. He said I was too young for such a thing; his generation perhaps, his father's certainly. In the age of instant Internet gratification, who squirrels away slightly stripped screws in an old coffee can? At the very least use your platinum credit card online to buy a titanium storage system for those screws. I like to think of my magic coffee can as old-school scrimp and save economics. Of course given the current economic state, the scrap metal in my coffee can has a better market value than my 401(k) portfolio. In rare Type A out-of-body moments, I've thought of ditching the magic coffee can. I imagine sorting every nut and bolt into neatly labeled bins or Mason jars with lids. Thankfully I lack the inner fortitude and 14 hours of free time. So the old can stays on the shelf. Besides, sometimes you don't want to see Oz behind the curtain or categorize a magical coffee can. You want to call finding the exact two screws needed to finish a closet door project on Mother's Day at the bottom of an old tin can exactly what it is: a little miracle.
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Garret Leiva, Community editor