Gnats, Demons, and Steel

The bit was new and it readily tore at the steel pipe, shearing neat swirls of shavings. Bright silver, they fell to the dust or hung like ornaments on the tumbleweeds at the base of the post. Years of windblown tumbleweeds and neglect had piled high around the post and I was there to repair the gate, make it work, and to take ownership of this new-to-me place. I was the greenhorn, the newbie, the city dude come to work on his country studio for the summer.  I was far from supplies (fifty miles) in northern New Mexico, and staring at the prospect of tasks that were way over my head.  Fixing the gate at the mouth of the driveway was my first task and things did not go well.

After the initial success of drilling into the post, the bit came loose and fell into the mess at the base. I lost it. I could not believe it. A new half inch drill bit, gleaming just a second before had disappeared into the dust and tangle at the base of the steel post. This was going to be a challenge. The status quo was not going to give up easily, was not going to go quietly, was not about to surrender without a struggle, a fight. 

I went right at it and swept the pile of brittle tumbleweeds aside. Then I began combing through the dust, saying to myself that this was a sign, that I should give up, that I did not belong here, that this was too much for a guy long removed from construction work. But I swept those thoughts aside and just kept moving. The bit had somehow landed a few feet away from where I thought it fell, but I finally got it. 

Back into the drill and we were off again. Soon enough I hit the concrete in the core of the post. Yup, dulled the bit, but I had to get through the steel order to use the masonry bit to go through the concrete. Once I was completely through the steel I switched bits and continued through the concrete to the other side of the post. Dust fell from the hole as I threw my weight behind the drilling. The drill was barely up to the pressure and the scale of fighting through the concrete with such a large diameter bit. I made slow progress, and again, switched batteries. I made through to the steel on the other side of the post.  Here I would have to switch back to the steel bit. 

When I did, I realized that the steel bit was not long enough to reach through the post to the other side. I would have to come in from the outside – blind – to try to connect with the hole I had begun. I eyed the angles and did my best to pick a spot and started the process again. The drill started with some speed, but slowed to the point of uselessness. The battery was dead. 

I walked back to the house and switched out batteries.  The tool, the bit, my level of skill were barely enough to even consider this job, but I went at it, kept at it, paid the price of time and effort, getting bitten by cedar gnats, under the hot sun, to keep at it. Cedar gnats bite, and the bite grows into an oozing welt that itches for days. The gnats were as annoying as the thoughts, but not as dangerous to the job.

With a recharged battery I went at it again. The now dull bit, sent only flecks of steel, like glitter, to the ground, but it still made progress. I was through. When I looked into the hole, I was delighted to see that I had won the lottery, that the holes matched up, that I could see light coming through the post. 

After several more battery switches, another smaller new bit, a lot of reaming to accommodate the larger diameter of the hinge bolt, some persuading with a hammer, I was able to mount the broken gate to the new hinges. Success. Small to be sure, but the first of many challenges in front of me was met and done.  The demons whispering “Quit,” “You can’t do it,” were not gone, far from it, but they stepped back to wait for the next job.