The price we pay

I’ve owned a string of sea kayaks from the same manufacturer. They all came with a dimple in the deck to mount a compass. I have a GPS and don’t feel a need for one. But, the empty space begs for attention.

With the first purchase, I held out for a month. Double that for the second. It’s been over six months for this one and I thought I had bucked the monkey off my back. But, then I saw an especially nice instrument with a deep discount.

It arrived days before a trip I’m about to take. The smart thing to do, given other necessary preparations, would be to wait until my return to undertake the project. It would be nice to be smart.

I’ve mounted compasses before. But this one appeared more complex and I was working with a fiberglass surface instead of plastic. But, how hard could it be? That’s what I should’ve asked myself.

The instructions were vague and incomplete, a testament to our deteriorating communication skills. I went on the web and found a blog by someone who had experience with this equipment. He advised discarding the supplied hardware and drilling pattern, and specified what he liked to use. He also noted that the layered mounting plates didn’t align properly and would have to be redrilled. Great, but I have limited time and how much can you trust what you find on the web?

I’d play it safe and fast, going with the manufacturer’s stuff. The hardware proved to be inadequate and the drilling pattern was off. The mounting plates seemed to have been fabricated by the blind in locations scattered around the globe. How much can you trust what you find on the web?

I jumped in the car and sped to the nearest big box home improvement store with the shopping list recommended in the blog. Stainless steel what? These zinc plated ones are perfectly fine. Neoprene washers? What the heck are they? I barely managed to obtain half the items. Off to a competing store.

I filled the bill, except settled for nylon washers. Back to the shop. The redrilling made me hope there would be enough compass and deck left to navigate and float. But, I was finally ready to bolt it all together, leaving just enough time for last minute trip preparations. Not so fast. The machine screws specified in the blog came up short. Rats!

I burned rubber to the nearer of the two stores to get the longer hardware. No joy and they didn’t seem optimistic that their competition would have the odd size, either. But, it’s not like I had a choice at this point.

Having another errand to perform on the way, I took the back roads. About halfway to my destination, I hit the brakes and did a two-wheel turn into a parking lot. There stood a vintage hardware store. I walked in and inhaled the heady miasma of fertilizer, solvents and paint. Ah, that brought back memories.

And, the real help. You have a better chance of finding assistance in the middle of the Gobi Desert than you do in a big box store and even then the odds are that you have greater acumen than the employee. In the old-fashioned hardware store, I was greeted by a grizzled veteran of the projects wars with the flannel shirt and calluses to prove it. He listened to what I wanted and led me directly to the appropriate shelf. While not as cheap as the big box stores, this one had all I needed and then some.

I understand that we’ve demanded and evolved to business models that stress high volume items and low cost help. But, we do pay a price for that.