Told you I could balance 16 nails on the head of one
By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
Cook your eggs the same way every time, don’t you? Some things, you just can’t help but come back to, to the same place, over and over again. For me, it is in a little store, in a little town, when I was just a little man.
Cook your eggs the same way every time, don’t you? Some things, you just can’t help but come back to, to the same place, over and over again. For me, it is in a little store, in a little town, when I was just a little man.
Saturday morning, 9 a.m., 1979 -- A curvy woman, dark
shoulder-length, curly hair, maybe 30, attractive, with a big, winning smile on
her face, bounces in from the side door, right up to the nail counter.
“Do you have a block of wood and a hammer?”
Nick and I looked at her, and perhaps at each other. We
didn’t say it, but this is a hardware store, lady, of course there is a hammer
around here, and I’m sure, a block of wood.
“What are you using them for?” One of us asked.
“I bet I can balance 16 nails on the head of one,” her
answer confidently snapped back in our general direction.
Per her instructions, we fished seventeen 16-penny,
smooth-box, cement coats, out of the dusty nail bin and plopped them down on
the semi-rough surface of the composite counter.
“Now drive one into the center of the block,” she said. “But
not all the way down.”
One of us grabbed the hammer that hung in a loop at the edge, near the scale.
And, we did as we were told.
She grabbed up the rest of the nails. She places one flat in the
center on the dark countertop, then, alternating on each side, places all but
one of the additional nails, with their
heads down the spine of that first nail, until all of them lined up, looking
like an eight-winged dragon fly. Then, with the last nail dropped on top, facing
the opposite direction, and also weaving between the segments of the metal
dragon fly, she picks up the whole configuration, between thumb and forefinger.
Steadily, but very quickly, she balances it on the nail that
we drove into the block of wood.
All sixteen nails balanced, by themselves, on the center
piece.
“I told you I could balance 16 nails on the head of one,”
she said, flashed the smile again, and left through side door. Never to be seen
again.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve successfully, and
sometimes profitably, used that trick since.
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