The Handyman Can

A handyman I’m not. Though men generally have that gene that allows them to repair and troubleshoot inanimate objects around the house, I’m missing that gene. Cars run away when I approach with a wrench. God plugs his ears when I tackle a plumbing job.

This past week I swapped out an over-the-range microwave oven. Though I noted to my wife Wendy that the 25-year-old antique brown-colored microwave still worked, she said it only had one cooking temperature: incinerate.

First, I dismantled the old microwave. For an experienced handyman, that would have been unnecessary. But loosening the two bolts that I thought kept the microwave from crashing to the range below didn’t free the beast from its perch. So I took it all apart, screw by screw, bolt by bolt. This drew a guffaw from my older son Greg. I wonder if he knows that he likely has the same genes I do when it comes to fixing things. But this time, number two son Scott was my assistant because of his football lineman strength.

I anchored the microwave frame to the wall. Then came the quandary. I needed to screw two bolts through the upper cabinet into two eency weency screw holes in the top of the microwave to keep it level and upright over the range. I had to drill the holes in the upper cabinet in just the right spots for the bolts to line up with the holes in the microwave.

There was a paper template provided with the instructions. That got me nowhere. In true Red Green fashion--Red Green being the mechanic extraordinaire on Canadian television—I came up with a plan. I screwed the bolts into the microwave, then lined the appliance up with the underside of the cabinet. Then I put a little Elmer’s glue on the tops of the bolts, so that when they touched the underside of the cabinet, they would leave a bit of glue where the holes should be drilled. Scott was impressed with my creativity, I could tell.

That worked pretty well for one bolt anyway. I drilled the hole, put the bolt through the cabinet and it attached nicely with the microwave on the other side. But the second bolt was more problematic. One hole drilled was about an inch off. So I decided to drill a pilot hole with a smaller bit before I turn my cabinet underside into swiss cheese.

After I drilled a pilot hole in what I thought was the correct spot, we checked the alignment by putting a nail down the hole to see if it could find the screw hole in the top of the microwave. The nail was too short and disappeared down the hole. We didn’t know if it also dropped down the screw hole. After failing to extract the nail, I decided to drill a bigger hole to get it out. Bingo! Success. And it appeared that the hole was in the right spot.

We started screwing in the bolt when I heard the gentle tap of some part falling deep into the bowels of the microwave. It was the cap that held the bolt secure. Trying to retrieve the tiny cap would be futile. We could reverse course, take the microwave down and return it to the store. Or, we could just fasten the second bolt the best we could and make do with that.

"I think it’s good enough with just one bolt," commented Scott. Just what I would have said. Like father, like son? It’s all in the genes.