First of all let’s get Cormac’s cultural incidents out of the way.
- Day 1 involved my neighbor Steve getting his name wrong and thereafter calling him “MacCormick” for the entire week that he was here.
- Day 2 involved an employee at our local McDonald’s ringing him up for ten McChicken Sandwiches from the dollar menu instead of just the two he asked for. When asked to hand over $10 he had to explain that he only wanted two and not ten. The employee was obviously no stranger to double-digit sandwich orders being placed by single patrons.
- Day 3 involved a trip to Menards to pick up some nails and while traveling up the escalator enjoying a bottle of Fanta a fellow shopper (who I can only assume must have been on his last legs from thirst) roars at MacCormick from a distance of about 100ft, “Hey, where’d you get that pop?” MacCormick, now at a distance of approximately 150ft due to the movement of the escalator politely mentions that he brought it with him. The dying man, now a distant 175ft or so away shouts back, “So there’s no pop machine here?” We are not sure what happened to the poor man but we continue to pray that he found an oasis (or semi-clean toilet bowl) at which to slake his thirst. God love the fat bastard.
Fran had spent many months discussing the project in great detail with his carpenter friends so he arrived with a pickup truck full of tools and a head full of plans. His formative years as a farmer, barn builder, concrete pourer and fellow shed owner were invaluable to the execution of the project. A man who knows sheds is worth his weight in gold. People who enjoy their own company (and there’s no shame in it) understand the grá of the shed.
The project was initiated by emptying the structure of all contents, including the floor. Some of the floorboards (2” x 10” Douglas Fir) were actually in decent condition and may find their way into a furniture project or two. In hindsight I should have emptied the shed before the arrival of Fran and MacCormick. One of my many character flaws (half-assing) is to blame here. Forgiveness please.
The following day we procured some 2” x 10” pine boards that we built into 20’ long beams, each being three boards thick. These monsters were bolted with 3/4” threaded rod to the north and south sides of the shed. You can see them in the photos. This heavy-duty lamination of boards provoked a conversation between MacCormick and myself about a cathedral in Letterkenny, Donegal. We both remembered a photo in a woodwork book from secondary school that used the same cathedral to illustate lamination on a scale unseen before or after in Irish architecture.
A section of old and badly poured concrete outside of the shed perimeter (on the west side) with purpose unknown was broken up with sledgehammers. Bill, the neighbor who grew up in the house next door said that he remembered the slab being poured in the 1940’s. His story was soon corroborated as MacCormick uncovered some license plates dated 1944 and 1946.
A couple of hydraulic bottle jacks were placed under the ends of the beams and the shed was lifted about 6” off the ground. There were tense moments as the shed inched up and some of the jack supports shifted but she went up and stayed up. I have earned a serious respect for the simple bottle jack and what it can do.
The following few days were spent preparing for the concrete pour. Forms were built and positioned with a precision that still astounds me. Fran does not deal in units of “ah, she’s close enough”. No sir, he deals in 1/16” increments.
The cement truck arrived and a couple yards of concrete was dumped into the shed. Fran worked the material like an expert, pushing it around to fill voids and floating it off perfectly level. “Flatter than piss on a plate” as they say in Wisconsin. It was hard enough to walk on the next day. MacCormick and myself laid down the 2” x 6” sole plate and dropped the shed down onto it. Phase 1 complete.
Phase 2 is just beginning…
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