Bleeding Like a Speared Mammoth… The Chemistry of MisAdventures

Miss Wilkerson, my high school chemistry teacher, whipping up a batch of something stinky. Oops, sorry, I mean performing a scientific experiment. I liked Miss Wilkerson, in fact, I might have had a slight crush, but I just couldn’t get excited about lab work.


Looking back, (hindsight, mind you), I am not too surprised about the paths I chose to follow in my life. But given that science is one of my favorite subjects from a lay perspective (Scientific American, for example, is the only magazine I read cover to cover), I find it a bit perturbing that I was so ready to drop science as a high school and college student.


I’ve never required much help in eliminating options from my life. Chemistry was like that. I would have made a good Greek Philosopher, working out problems in my head. Lab work and I don’t get along as a general rule. I quickly learned in high school that I am not particularly fond of long dead frogs pickled in formaldehyde or chemicals that smell worse than an old dog’s fart. But there is more to it than that; I am convinced that good lab technicians are mechanically inclined. They like to tinker.

I have lots of friends like that. They love to take things apart and put them back together. They can fix anything and go out of their way to find things that need repairing. I knew kids in high school that enjoyed tinkering with automobiles.  Ask them anything about carburetors, water pumps, generators, horsepower or timing and they have a ready answer. I admired them for it, but my interest in carburetors was zilch and my primary interest in automobiles was that they get me from point A to point B without breaking down. Still is.

My friend, Tom Lovering, is a dedicated fix-it-man. I can’t imagine him going anywhere without his tool chest. He breaks it out at there slightest provocation and begs to fix things. Here he is with a pickled frog that doesn’t need dissecting. We were in Mexico sampling tequila.

I feel pretty much the same way about other fix-it items. I am just not excited about getting into the bowels of a toilet and replacing its thing-a-ma-bob. Nor am I interested in replacing light switches to see how much voltage I can send coursing through my body. Yeah, yeah, I know; you turn off the electricity first.

I am not sure where this lack of enthusiasm for things mechanical came from but it was probably a combination of aptitude and attitude. My father wasn’t particularly fond of working on automobiles and some of that may have rubbed off. But he was very handy. In addition to being a skilled electrician he loved puttering around outside making things. I classify all such activities as chores to be avoided if at all possible. In fact, over the years I have developed a number of strategies for not having to fix things. Here are a few. You may find them valuable if you are a mechanically disinclined male.


  • Don’t own any tools. You might be tempted to use them, or even worse, someone such as a wife might suggest that you use them.
  • Don’t buy a house. Every scientific study ever done confirms that the single most important reason for having to fix things is owning your own home. I was 53 years old before I made that mistake, and then it was a condo with minimal fix-it responsibilities.*
  • If something doesn’t work, go buy a new one.
  • Plead ignorance. “What do you mean there is more than one kind of screw driver?” As a corollary, hide your repair manuals. Peggy has the irritating habit of looking up things that need fixing and then saying sweetly, “Oh, this looks easy to do, Curt.”  My manliness has been challenged. It doesn’t matter that this ‘easy’ chore requires that I make four trips to the hardware store, purchase $500 worth of new tools, work ten hours straight and injure myself at least once.  I have to do it.
  • Curse a lot. Your partner may figure that leaving something broken is easier than listening to you.
  • Stall. “I’ll do it right after I cook your dinner, honey.” Stalling is easier if you are doing something the other person finds desirable.
  • If all else fails, compromise. I have an agreement with Peggy that I will do one manly chore per month. That’s my quota. Some activities such as fixing toilets even earn two months of credit.


* Unfortunately, these rules no longer apply. Eight years ago, Peggy and I decided to buy a home on five-acres of property. Everything I feared about home ownership has come to fruition. I now have a shed full of tools and have to use them. Sigh. The good news here is that Peggy loves to repair things. Just a wee bit of procrastination…

Even my hobbies as a kid reflected my non-mechanical tendencies. Building model ships, airplanes, cars, trains, etc. had no interest. My concept of a great hobby was rock collecting. I would hike along the Southern Pacific railroad tracks and pick up interesting rocks until all four pockets were bulging and my pants were about to fall off. I would then go home and smash them apart with a hammer to figure out what I had found. Geology became a life-long interest.

I do understand the arguments for being able to fix things: saving money, being self-sufficient, and obtaining satisfaction from a job well done. These same arguments, however, apply to going out in the pasture, shooting Elsie the Cow, gutting her, bringing home the meat, grinding it up and throwing it on the grill. Just think of the satisfaction involved and dollars saved! Or, you can go to the local fast food joint and help employ a kid who might otherwise turn to a life of crime.

Now, back to chemistry, one day we had to shove little glass tubes through rubber stoppers. Apparently, this is an important skill for budding chemists. It’s not a difficult task if you ignore the fact that the holes in the stoppers are approximately half the diameter of the glass tubes and, more importantly, you have a gallon of Vaseline. I was half way through my first masterpiece when the damn tube broke and ended up jabbed into my hand. Bleeding like a speared mammoth, I was carted off to the emergency room of the local hospital and sewn up.

There was plenty of time while sitting in ER to contemplate my future as a scientist. My conclusion: there wasn’t one. I decided that the best way to avoid long-dead animals, smelly chemicals and miscellaneous dangerous objects (not to mention higher level math skills) would be to choose a career that depended on verbal agility. In other words, my future would be based solely on my ability to bullshit. I determined then and there I would either become a politician or a writer.

TUESDAY’S POST: Part 2 of the Rogue River Trail series.

FRIDAY’S POST: MisAdventures: I rediscover girls and run over a skunk on my first ‘date.’

35 thoughts on “Bleeding Like a Speared Mammoth… The Chemistry of MisAdventures

  1. The thing about lab work is that you have to follow instructions. Never could.

    On a side note, I spent twenty years in a facility that held the region’s premier crime lab and got to know a number of forensic scientists. Contrary to what is depicted on television, they are not a glamorous lot. In fact they are more boring then tax accountants. (Sorry if I offended anyone, but that is the just way it is.)

    • Laughing, Craig. Maybe my problem was following directions as well. (Peggy is shaking her head yes.) I could see where good crime lab work would involve a lot more repetitive step by step procedures as opposed to brilliant insights. –Curt

  2. Things would be different around here if the hubby didn’t fix things. Not only does it save the hassle of finding a competent fixer, I think he enjoys the doing.

    • 151 proof rum does the same thing, Gerard. 🙂 I find the facts of science fascinating. It’s the getting to the facts, like dissecting a frog, or a cadaver, that doesn’t particularly excite me. That doesn’t mean I don’t support the concept. Introducing children to the ‘magic’ of science is one of the most important things we do. –Curt

  3. We are kindred spirits, Curt. I was never interested in science, mechanics, lab work, or anything of the kind. I’m still not. But boy, am I happy to have friends and family who are mechanically-minded! In return, I’d be happy to write their resumes for them. 🙂

    • Over the years, Dave, I have figured out that I can do most common household repairs. You-tube certainly provides instructions. But an expert can get the job done much more quickly, assuming you can afford to bring one in. And I always have about twice as much on my to-do list than I can hope to accomplish, most of which I enjoy more, so… 🙂

  4. There’s a lot to be said about not owning a home, but think of the joy in creating a space that suits rather than one that’s dictated by someone else’s whims. Not to mention the lovely surroundings you enjoy.

  5. I’m sorry! Formaldehyde is a civilization problem. Our class was told “Bring a frog if you want to dissect!”
    Well I was good at catching them, so I got to dissect … but my team friends took science🤓

  6. Tools are a sneaky thing…worse than cats, you let one in and before you know it….
    Hands on outdoors is real life science…much more fun than books, screens, lab manuals…coming from a science family, we had cow’s eyes in the freezer waiting for their lesson, Dad made sure nothing in my chemistry set could be combined to be explosive, and I still have my microscope (from the school science supply places, not the toy store). Indoors kills most any interest.

    • I know, I swear the tools multiply out in my shed when I am not looking.
      Making science fun, capturing the imagination of children, is one of the more important things we can do. Even a magnifying glass outside can open up a whole world. I agree with you, Phil. –Curt

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s