big projects

A Familiar Scene

Here I find myself again: tons of nails to drive and too many neighbors to drive them all at once.

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I needed some nails on 2″ center to flatten out the tongues at the joints.

I’ve been making a second traveling tool chest.  The dovetails on the carcase came out quite nicely, although the large tail in the middle did not close up completely to the baseline in two corners.  Some water-based putty will fix that, no problem.

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Dovetail pr0n.

I’ve pretty much locked down my process for cutting ship-lap joints for floorboards.  After scribing the base line with a marking gauge, my DIY rebate plane does most of the work, then I finish up with a router plane.  I guess I could build a depth stop for the rebate plane, but that would make too much sense.

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Why use one tool when you can use three?

For the first time in a while, the carcase was not square, so I had to clamp it into square.  It’s still probably 1/64″ out, but I can live with that if you can.

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Seriously, I can.

Next up is the dovetailed skirt.  This tool chest will have a 3/4″ plywood lid, so I should probably buy some black milk paint soon.

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Travel Tool Chest Retrospective

The final coat of paint went onto the travel tool chests over the weekend.  Net net: I am very pleased.

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The color is still a little blue for my taste.

For the first time in a long time, I have nothing bad to say about a completed project.  At least nothing bad to say about the design or the concept.  There is always something bad to say about my execution of the aforesaid (the lid is not on straight, yet again).  So rather than do my usual pros and cons, I will talk about what I’ve learned on this project.

  • Geometry is a thing.  The dimensional difference between this tool chest and the original traveling tool tote is ostensibly minimal.  Compared to its predecessor, it’s 4″ shorter in length, barely 2″ less in width and essentially the same height.  But when we’re talking inches cubed, that adds up to a lot.  This thing is truly portable.  Filled to the gills, it’s not even a chore to carry around.  I’ve finally made a replacement for my nylon tool box.
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Doesn’t look like much, but do the math and you’ll see.

  • A wide skirt is a better skirt.  On my original traveling tool tote, the skirt was only 1.5″ wide.  With the 45″ chamfer, it’s basically all corners and has gotten beat to hell. In version 2.0, the skirt is over 3″ wide: quite a bit of surface area for deflecting blows.  Unlike its forebear, the skirt is a bit out of proportion to the lid.  But this is because I had meant to do a full dust deal (of approximately equal width to the skirt) and just got lazy in the end.
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Durability > all.

  • No casters for small tool chests.  The casters have worked out really well on version 1.0 and I meant to add casters to this project.  But I didn’t.  For two reasons, really.  The first is the spacing on the die-forged, headed nails holding on the floor boards precludes the caster feet from seating properly at the corners.  The second reason doesn’t really matter, does it?  At least it won’t roll around the trunk of car in use.
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These will have to do.

  • Grey is not for tool chests.  Or is it gray?  I don’t know anymore.  At least it’s easily distinguishable from my other tool chests.
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That’s the “sliding” tray to the bottom right.  It has about 1″ of travel.

I plan to immediately make another one of these (and this time, paint it black).  More on that later, though.

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You Get What You Pay For

The roll of cheap adhesive-backed cork purchased online for the floor of the new traveling tool tote was exactly that: cheap.  The adhesive was not uniformly sticky and kept curling up in places.  My slightly less permanent solution: foam drawer liner and spray adhesive.  This should provide comparable, if less durable, cushioning.

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And it fits much better than the cork did.

Speaking of durability, I started painting the chest with Seagull Grey milk paint.  The first coat looked a bit too blue for my taste, but has since flattened out in the second coat.  I don’t do a ton of finishing, but I’ve done two things differently this time around.

First, I did not attach the handles to the chest prior to painting, although I did punch alignment holes.  The traveling tool tote was in service before it even got painted and I did not remove the handles for that operation.  I will assume this was part laziness and part fear the screws would lose their bite when reinstalled.  Painting is so much easier without curvy obstructions, it turns out.

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See?  Baby blueish.  

Second, I am painting the carcase before the lid is attached (or even made, for that matter).  See the above comment re: obstructions.  I also took the time to properly mask the inside of the lid, which did not stop me from dripping a big glob of paint on the inside of the chest.  That little accident cleaned up okay with multi-surface furniture cleaner and will hopefully be hidden by the tools in the wall rack.

I have neither the oak for the tray bottom nor the pine for the tray sides on hand.  Those will be acquired over the weekend (from the home center and from my stash at my parents’ house, respectively).  The width of the tray is still TBD.

And there is still that pesky lid to make.

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Looking the Part

The new traveling tool chest is finally starting to look like one.  The dovetailed lower skirt went on Sunday morning, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the result.

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Another size comparison with Version 1.0.

Unlike my other tool chest iterations, the chamfer on the lower skirt was cut by hand with a block plane.  The result is a steeper angle (about 55 degrees) than I would otherwise get with a trim router.  It was good practice at planing both right and left handed and the clean-up was oh-so-easy.

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A simple operation, really.

When gluing the skirt onto the carcase, there was a sizable gap along the front skirt, more than I was comfortable filling with just paint.  So in addition to a significant clamping setup, I made a goberge to help close the gap from the inside.  Marginal improvement, but not enough for my aesthetic taste.  The front of the chest is now the rear (and wee-keh wehr-sah).

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So much clamping going on here.

Problem is, the more a goberge is required, the more it tends to dent the inside of the carcase.  With some heat from an iron and a wet cloth, though, the impressions should spring out well enough for a tool chest.  On a furniture piece, I would probably add some padding to the corners (adhesive-backed cork, probably) to lessen the marring.

With the lower skirt finished, next up is the lid.  The panel glue-up didn’t turn out as expected, so I’m going in a completely different direction: 3/4″ birch plywood.  That also means I’m skipping the full dust deal. Three oak battens, one in the front and two on the sides (dovetailed together) will be glued and screwed to the underside of the lid, keeping out the dust.  I have some lovely 3/4″ flat-sawn red oak that is mineralized along the rift-sawn edges and will be perfect for this operation.

Perfect enough to keep the natural wood color, I think.

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Crippling Self-doubt

Woodworking has been a struggle, lately.  I’m at a point where I need my thickness planer to progress any further into several projects, and it’s just so far away.  The dovetailed carcase for the new traveling tool chest is filled to the brim with S2S versions of its remaining pieces (among other boards).   I just need to pass them through the magic lunchbox and get on with it.  That’s on the agenda for the holiday weekend, also.

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It’s slightly morbid, when you really think about it.

But I still wonder if I’m going about this all wrong.  The size of the new tool chest seems right, but do I really need a full dust seal around the lid?  Won’t oak battens work just fine?  But that would waste a couple board feet of quarter-sawn white pine.  I guess I can use it for french fitting dividers.

It goes on and on.  These types of questions gnaw at me constantly.  I’ve only been woodworking for about 4 years, less than three with hand tools.  What the hell do I know?

Then, every now and again, I get some reaffirmation.  On my new workbench, I organically came to the same conclusion as a previous craftsman, making the front left leg larger than the other three, allowing for a larger tenon at the joint that incurs the most stress.  And speaking of tool chests, a woodworker with credentials beyond my own seems to work out of a chest that looks an awful lot like my first attempt at a traveling tool chest.

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A size comparison.  Please ignore the soft backlight from the patio door.

I don’t crave the approval of others.  But I, like everyone else, need some confirmation once in a while that I’m not totally off base.  And that confirmation keeps the crippling self-doubt at bay for another week or two.

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Traveling Tool Tote Retrospective

It’s been about a month since I finished the traveling tool tote.  I am very pleased with the result.  Even if I haven’t figured out how or where to attach a transom chain.

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I’m getting better at stuffing it, too.

I may be my own biggest critic, but there also are genuinely some things I don’t like about it.  In no particular order of importance, the good and the bad are as follows:

Size and Shape

  • The Good: the basic dimensions are nearly perfect for the tools it was designed to hold.  My panel saws fit inside lengthwise (in a till) and the well area comfortably holds a bevel-up jointer, a No. 4 smoothing plane, a large router plane, a block plane, a tool roll (chisels) and sharpening gear (diamond plates, saw file roll, etc).  The 4″ deep sliding tray has plenty of capacity for two backsaws (dovetail and carcass), marking and measuring tools and assorted odds and ends.  The simple rack on the back wall rounds out the basic storage setup, giving me everything I need for working away from the shop.  It’s heavy but portable, even fully-loaded (but by “portable”, I mean “I can move it from my apartment to my trunk by myself without herniating a disk”.
  • The Bad: the sliding tray itself is too wide. At just under 7″, it covers more than half of the well, making it difficult to reach tools that sit in the center of the floor.  I find myself removing the tray more often than not as I’m unloading.  A small complaint, but still something to address in the next version.  In addition, the simple rack, with its four spacers, will eventually be replaced with a solid rack of 1/2″ holes bored every 1 1/8″ on center (which I avoided this time around due to lack of drill press).

Construction

  • The Good: rabbets and nails are definitely easier to get right than dovetails.  Angling the nails a bit adds to the holding power and properly sizing the end grain makes for a strong joint.  Although not strictly necessary, I added a dovetailed lower skirt to keep everything cinched tightly and cover the end-grain on the floorboards.  And the lid, consisting of a pine panel and two oak battens nailed on, came together quickly and easily.
  • The Bad: rabbets and nails will never be as strong as dovetails.  In fact, trauma to the case during construction fractured one of the corner joints and even when re-glued and re-nailed, I felt it necessary to add corner brackets as reinforcement.  I will likely dovetail the next incarnation.  Also, the oak battens only hold the pine lid flat across the width and do not affect the slight bow across the length of the lid.

Hardware

  • The Good: the Lee Valley iron handles are comfortable and stout, being screwed through the pine sides and into the oak tray runners.  Both the Tremont cut nails (used for assembling the case and attaching the tray bottom) and Dictum die-forged nails (used for attaching the lid battens and assembling the tray sides) look nice and hold well.  I am still searching for a reasonably-priced transom chain for the lid.
  • The Bad:  the “no mortise” hinges are a pain to get straight.  Even after attaching all three to the case and transferring marks to the lid, I still put the lid on slightly crooked.  An extreme amount of fussing barely undid the damage, and I switched in regular butterfly hinges .  I also continue to struggle with slotted screws (hand-driven or not) to the point where it was preferable to glue in the panel saw till.

Conclusion

I may have overestimated the tools required for on-site work.  I don’t really need everything this tool chest is meant to hold (e.g., I haven’t once reached for a panel saw or my saw set).  As a result, the fully-loaded tool chest is very heavy; almost too heavy for casual travel.

The next incarnation will be smaller and lighter.  I’m testing out a 24″ x 12″ version (also made from home center 1×12 pine, but thicknessed down to 1/2″) that will be dovetailed at the corners.  In addition to experimenting with french-fitting the well storage, it will also swap out a sliding tray for a full-depth version that should be placed on the benchtop (like a mobile tool well).

And this might be a good excuse to splurge on that BT&C Hardware Store Saw, which I believe will fit the 23″ inside dimensions.

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Short Cuts Make Long Delays

For an upcoming project, I need perfectly flat, perfectly straight stock.  But I only need 1/2″ thickness out of 3/4″ boards.  So I’m taking the laziest possible approach: skip planing.  But because the boards start off too thin for true skip-planing, I am pulling a page from the planing sled handbook and using blue tape to fill the hollows.

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If I had a super power, it would be “cutting corners”.

Each outside edge is planed perfectly straight and without twist, and the blue tape will ensure the board rides to the planer table evenly and without pressing flat.  Thereby, one side of the board will be made perfectly flat.  With the tape then be removed, the board can be flipped end over end and sent back through the planer for perfectly parallel faces.

Speaking of parallel faces, I apparently left my winding sticks at my parents house, hanging off my old workbench.  I needed some for the above skip-planing.  So I made some out of scrap 3/4″.

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About as basic as they can get.

At 1.5″ x 15″, I’m sure they will get re-purposed for actual furniture.

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Easy Desk Conversion Kit

About four years ago, armed with nothing but a double bevel sliding compound miter saw and a medium router kit, I set out to make a desk.  It was my first foray into what I could (at the time) consider non-traditional table joinery (mitered half-laps and bridle joints).  I’ve wanted to revisit the design for a while now; not because I don’t like it, but because I could do it so much better by hand.

Except that sensibilities change and the design now seems heavy to me.  I want something lighter, but that won’t leave me without a desk for an extended period of build time.  The tabletop is still in excellent shape.  Laminated from five boards of ~1″, quarter-sawn, mineral-streaked red oak, it’s straight and rigid over the years.  My solution for a quick retrofit: metal legs.

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Made by Osborne Wood.

Each leg is 29″ high and has a 4×4 base.  No. 10 pan-head screws should be fine for attaching them to oak battens, which will in-turn be (hide)glued and nailed to the underside of the tabletop.

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This is 3/4″ oak.  I think I might need 5/4″ (at least) for the battens.

There is not much weight on the tabletop (two monitors and basic computer input devices), so I don’t see the need for lengthwise support battens.  I may, however, add a third batten, cross-grain at the center point.  The switch from wooden frame to metal legs will raise the work surface the thickness of the battens (~1″), add over 4″ of underside clearance, and reduce the overall length by about 7″.

Assuming I prepare the leg assemblies in advance, the retrofit should be doable in an afternoon (including a quick flattening of the underside where it will mate with the battens).  The salvaged wood from the frame (also red oak) will find some use (after being stripped of wipe-on poly).

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Everything Coming Together

I’m so close.  I can feel it.  The legs went into the Stent Panel Workbench last weekend.

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If you squint really hard, it looks like a single board slab.

Fitting the legs was a somewhat arduous process.  Both mortise float and coarse rasp were required to bring the mortises into square and plumb.  Then each tenon was fine-tuned with a shoulder plane for friction fit.

I finally got a sense of how solid this thing will be when flipping it over for the first time.  Admittedly, I will remove a few lbs of wood when leveling the seams on the mortise strips.  But that weight should be added back in the short stretchers.  It’s already heavy and it does not seem to move under planing force, even without the extra weight of a quick release tail vise. Which will probably see more use as a front vise, anyway.

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Prettier than I would have expected.

Once the top is generally flattened, I still have to straighten the front edge and square it to the right end (where the tail vise will sit).  Only then can I bring the legs into plane with the front edge and finally flatten the work surface. After that, I will install the mortised bench stop.

Seeing how the legs fit together, I am now leaning toward gluing the legs in place (hide glue, albeit). This may or may not be the right choice, but this is likely not my last workbench. And I own a heat gun.

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Holy crap, you guys!

I got so much done over the weekend.  I’m very close to being done with the Stent Panel workbench.

First, I added pine veneer to the cheek of each of the tenons, which is part 1 of the joinery strategy for a stretcher-less workbench. Part 2 is using my new mortise float to square and plumb each mortise (although a rasp would work equally well).  Part 3 is shoulder planing the opposite side of the tenon to perfect, piston-fit.

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It’s face-grain to face-grain, so these are permanent additions.

Speaking of tenons, three out of four legs are completely done, with the fourth in process.  They are stouter than I anticipated and I’m confident in the plan for the workbench.  Overall weight should be close to 200 lbs. once assembled.

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Always label your parts.

The fourth leg is only in process because I finally added the show face to the slab, which took all but one of my parallel jaw clamps.  It was an excellent glue-up, though, and I can’t wait until the show face is glistening from final planing.

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Total depth is expected to be exactly 19.75″ after final squaring.

There is technically only one more board to glue up (the inside board on the front right leg), although I expect the crochet will be laminated.  In addition, I need two new short stretchers.  The old ones no longer fit with the fatter tenons sitting differently in the mortises.

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Also, F-clamps are no substitute for parallel jaw clamps.

That’s it for now.  Looks like I need one more weekend to finish everything.  The very last step will be to rough flush the mortise strips with the rest of the benchtop using a hand-held power planer.  Final flattening will occur once it’s back home and in place.

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