Thrift store shopping with the fam last night, and ran across an old-school record player console. The first thing I thought when I saw it, was “What a Piece of Shit!”.
Before I could realize that I shouldn’t be cussing in a public post I was whisked away to my grandmother’s living room in Lawrence, Kansas. Set the scene: my grandfather’s pipe smoke wafting from the pores of the ancient wood; the ultra creepy painting hanging in the haunted under lit space, the sound of the Royals losing another 100 games. Halcyon memories win! This was not only vintage furniture from my past, but maybe it could be reworked into a centerpiece item in our new house. Giddy like my kids on a sugar high, I fast walked through Goodwill to find Jessi, knowing before I got there she’d poo poo the idea. But I would not be deterred.
Fast forward, like, 30 seconds.
Jessi, “Holy Shit that’s cool!”
Me: “Keep it clean hon, this is a public post.”
Jessi, “You should get it. I could sand it and you could rebuild the components on the inside, we could….”
Me: feeling overwhelmed by her concurrence and the sheer amount of work it would be, I back pedaled, “Whoa whoa whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
Jessi, “Do it. Buy it.”
Me: “Well, that went as planned, and the saying ‘be careful what you wish for’ comes to mind.”
Jessi, “Are you talking to yourself again? Are you making dialog up just for your blog. The one you haven’t written in for like over a year?”
She got me.
Before moving on, I must point out one thing. My wife, Jessi, is frigging awesome when it comes to driving a hard deal. I’m asking the guy to write-up the ticket for the sale, when Jessie throws me a stern look, not unlike a school teacher visually threatening a misbehaving student, and gives me the thumbs down sign. I quickly understand she’s not giving me reprieve from the task of actually buying and finishing this thing, but she’s telling me to negotiate. Get the price down. The damn thing was only $35 in the first place, but Jessi was Jessi, and I love her for it, so I asked, “Uh, excuse me sir, can we uh, do anything about the price?” My voice cracked like a preteen calling his crush.
Jessi had given the sales person the same threatening glare, and he quickly melted to the same prepubescent state of mind. His voice, equally creaky, never taking his eyes off of my wife, “Uh, yes sir, how about…..” he pauses considering his mortality, “Twenty dollars?” His voice rises an octave accentuating how unsure he is of his offer. Jessi’s gaze seems to intensify, “NINETEEN NINETY NINE!” he yells. Jessi smiles, and the sales person and I fall into nearby chairs thankful to be alive.
So here’s the rub.
I assumed there would be millions of blogs, and pins, and articles on how people have already done this. There would be step by step guides, and pictures, and the right components, and shib, probably even replacement parts by some hippie in San Francisco. But I haven’t seen the plethora of ideas and instructions and parts I thought I would, so, I’m kinda starting from scratch. So, in an attempt to be criticized by anyone who actually knows style, woodwork, electronics, etc, I’m going to blog the progress of restoring this bad boy. That way the next person whose wife talks him into following one of his crazy ideas can show her my brutal failure, and maybe get a pardon.
I’ll see you out West…