Finding My Toolbox

Quest for Box
One of the treats of Craig's is that you can lurk, taking a five-minute stroll through the website once a day, or twice a week, and quickly recognize most of the goods you'd care to acquire. I do the same with cars. Some things move fast (I discovered that toolboxes did), so I ratcheted up my surveillance and began checking daily in the a.m. Searching: toolbox, tool box, toolbox, tool-box. Write that word too many times and it starts to look odd.


Watch the world long enough and you'll pick up the patterns. Between Craig's, eBay and a few other mechanic-favorite websites, I grew a picture of what used roller boxes would costs, and the range of small to large. Observation: for the $10-$15G that a superbox costs, you can buy a few smaller, more convenient boxes that'll be a whole lot more functional than a baby blue behemoth that takes up half your garage, remote locks or not.


I'd sent emails to half a dozen advertisers of shopworn toolboxes before I got a reply I liked. Some folks seem to think that shoppers haven't standards. If someone replies in perfect troglodyte, even if the toolbox is perfect, the seller might not be so desirable to deal with. I know it's snobbery, but put a little effort into the pitch. Show the customer some respect. A few others did the "I'm not going to answer a particular question because he won't like the answer" bit. D'uh. If I ask about the condition of the drawers, or I need to know if the box still rolls properly, it's because that matters to me.

Box Found
The reply that was worth my time was from a former Toyota mechanic who didn't mind telling the story. He'd outgrown the toolbox, his old shop box. Perfect. The Mac roller was still rolling, all the drawer pulls pulled, and the case still encased things. Good enough for a look-see.


Upon an exacting visit with the toolbox, it was grungy love at first sight. Ten years of scratches and stains (and a set of drawer liners with more oil soaked into them than the shores of the Persian Gulf) did nothing to hide a well-built box that still moved, opened, closed and, best of all, would look just as beat as my eclectic collection of tools. A smart raised top lip would accommodate a working surface of plywood, too. My toolbox. The owner, hovering in a dark corner of his garage like a father about to send his son to war, had asked $120. I waved five $20s in front of him and made a new friend.