The motivation behind the design – tinkering

When I was five, my parents purchased a hundred-year-old fixer-upper. One of the earliest photos of me shows the dusty backside of a kid in pajamas pulling plaster off a crumbling lathe wall with a claw hammer as big as my young arm.

As I grew older and bolder, I explored the dimly lit basement, poking through one hundred years of time recorded in mildewed boxes spilling rusted bolts and screws and nails and hinges and pieces of harder-than-stone hardwood cabinets and a thousand other treasures that I couldn't even name.

Along one wall was a big, big workbench made of rough-hewn planks blackened with age and use, strewn with hammers and saws and pliers and screwdrivers and many other unfamiliar tools that I couldn't even guess what might be used for.

I was in tinker's paradise.

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