…the shop is never going to be big enough.
Truer words have never been spoken.
This thread got me thinking about shop organization. In South Carolina, my winter retreat, I had a modest 15x20 shop. It wasn’t grand by any means, but it was a model of efficiency. I had designated a place for every single thing. The yard equipment had its spot, the tools were all on pegboards or on shelves, and I even built overhead storage for things like life vests and folding chairs. Cleaning up was a breeze because a place for everything meant everything was in its place.
Today, here in New York, we affectionately call our space “Hak’s Alley Garage.” On paper, it’s a 24x24, which sounds like a palace compared to the old place. But reality is a different beast. The 8-inch concrete walls eat up space, bringing the actual interior down to 22’ 8” square and when you’re trying to pack 10 lbs of s**t into a 5 lb. box, every single inch counts.
Right now, Hak’s Alley is a complete disaster. I share it with my wife’s VW Eos. To do any real work on our truck, the first step is always the same, move the Eos out into the driveway, and hope it doesn’t snow.
The rest of the space is a testament to my ambition exceeding my organizational skills. I’ve got a big compressor, a 5’ long lathe, a nice tool bench, a sandblaster, an engine hoist, two roll-around toolboxes, a MIG welder, an oxy-acetylene torch setup, a massive shelving unit packed with tools in cases, a fire-rated storage cabinet, and… well, too many other tools to list. The problem is, so many of them are just laying around, waiting for a permanent storage spot that I haven’t been able to create yet.
This is where the real frustration kicks in. I’ll get deep into a project, in the zone, and then I’ll have to stop. Dead in my tracks. The chaos becomes overwhelming. I’ll spend the next hour not making progress, but putting things away, reorganizing parts, and doing a frantic cleanup just so I can find the wrench or the bolt I was literally holding five minutes ago. I get myself in such a tizzy that all the creative momentum is lost. It’s a vicious cycle.
But with all that said, I have to take a step back and be honest. I am truly blessed to even have a shop, to have this space to work in and the tools to fill it. It’s a good problem to have.I just wish the good problem came with a little more square footage and a few more hours in the day to get it sorted.
For now, I’ll keep dreaming of the day when every tool has a home again. Until then, I’ll just keep moving the car.
