AsaHunt1830Farmhouse

There used to be a great hardware store right here in downtown Pennington. It was run by a nice couple of local folks, who had grown up here and had attended the same elementary school, Bear Tavern, that our kids first attended. (Gotta love a grammar school named for a wild animal and a drinking establishment). The hardware store was in an old building about the same generation as our house, and was a rabbit warren of ancient and modern offerings, with a layout so layered and confusing that I often had to ask the owners where to find something. They would invariably and kindly ask me what I needed something for, and when I described what problem I was facing in our old house they would explain that whatever part I needed was made to some antiquated gauge and no longer available, and that we’d have to figure out some workaround. They would disappear up into the attic or down into the basement, return with something bizarre, and together we’d figure out how to skin that day’s cats. They put up with me for almost twenty years before closing their shop last Fall.

Meanwhile, in the basement of our house, there are four small windows that swing up when opened, with a little eye hook that attaches them to the ceiling, to let in a little air and a bit of light (the panes were always very dirty). However, over the years they had fallen into disuse; one was converted to allow the sump pump line to get outside, and another was dedicated as the PVC exhaust port of our cool modern furnace. The only one that was still functional was ironically smashed by the firemen who saved our home.

As we were completing demolition and had cleaned all but the wiring in the basement, we spoke to the HVAC guy and the plumber about the possibility of redirecting things out through the sill along the north wall, where there are no windows. With that plan confirmed, I headed to the big box store to get 12 new panes of glass and restore everything back into service. However, I ran into a dead-end that represents everything evil about those warehouse stores: they don’t cut custom glass.

And so I ended up at the True Value in West Trenton, a classic chain store operation upstairs, with a basement full of amazing collections of tools-for-rent, unused materials, and clutter. I chatted with the owner as he kindly cut, stacked and wrapped the glass, and he bemoaned the fact that after a few decades of successfully fighting off Home Depot and Lowe’s, he was now in a life-or-death struggle with Amazon. Aggrieved by that and armed with my insurance fund, I bought everything I would need to replace my lost shop equipment from this deserving store, and told them I’d be back for more soon.

Back at the Hunt house, I started up the generator and plugged in my work light. I cut the PVC pipe out of one window, and the sump pump line out of the other. One of the cement foundations had broken to pieces, so I built a little form and poured in some cement, and then topped it with a white plastic sill. I checked all the fittings and swingings and hookings, and then opened up my package of fresh new clean glass, wrapped in True Value paper. With a handful of glazing points, a small hammer and a painters multi-tool I’ve owned forever, and some bending and twisting, shazam!, a clean new window, good as new. I admired it for a minute, then reopened it and hooked it open to catch fresh breeze blowing in from the South.

Once all four windows are back in operation, they should provide enough midday light to be able to see and work down there, without the need for the generator with its constant rumbling and petroleum fumes.

(Which is kinda funny, because just as I finished this project up, we got the approval from the township to run power back into the house.)