The garage door was open. Inside, I could see a crowded workshop with benches on every wall, with a drill press and table saw, parts bins and drawers and tools hanging neatly above the benches. An airplane fuselage sat in slings on the left side; wings under construction lay across a series of sawhorses on the right.
I couldn’t help but gawk from the street.
A stocky figure entered the garage from inside the house. He retrieved two stands with roller tops and maneuvered them up to the sawhorses where the wings lay. He glanced out at the street. He saw me staring. “Hi,” he said, and then went back to his maneuvering.
“Hi,” I said, embarrassed that I couldn’t stop looking at the contents of the man’s garage. I shook off my curiosity and continued my walk around the small residential circle. The next time around, the fuselage tail was set up on a sling in the driveway with the mains chocked. The man was struggling with the roller stands, trying to maneuver a 14-foot-long wing into position next to the fuselage. In the moment that I began to ask if he needed help, the man lost his grip on the roller stand, and the wing and stand took off down the sloping driveway, stopping long enough to clip the fuselage and then crashing into the tail, causing the airplane to fall off the stand onto the concrete.
“Oh no!” He shouted, mortified. “Here, let me help you,” I said. “No, no, I’m fine, I’ll get it.” Despite being waved off, I helped him retrieve the wing section and carry it back into the garage. Then we picked up the tail of the fuselage and put it back on the tail sling.
“Gosh, thank you. I have trouble asking for help.”
“l live around the corner. Call me over when you need to load the wings; it’s really a lot simpler and safer with two people. In the ’90s, I went through this myself.”
“OK, thanks.”
Do you enjoy working by yourself? I did until middle age, and I’m amazed I survived until then. I was what you would call a stubborn, obstinate introvert. I grew up with a friend who did landscaping. He made a game of figuring out how to do things on his own. I learned from him and also made a game out of accomplishing big jobs by myself. It didn’t matter that the job would take three times as long. Then I hurt my back, severely. It was a lesson I did not forget.
The next weekend I got a call from Tommy, the man who had been trying to install the spar attachments in the driveway. I walked down the street and it took us 5 minutes to get the wings in position to drill the spars. “See? Not so bad. Give me a shout when you’re ready to put this all back inside.”
Don’t be like me, someone who pushed hard to never ask for help. Now I know that it’s much smarter to ask someone else to help. Not only will they not mind, they will be glad you asked.
