When Melissa's dad died, he left a work bench in his garage. He had always been a wood worker in the tiny back garage, and this giant workbench took up most of the modest space. The bench was 4 feet wide and 8 feet long and had been modified over the years with drawers for storage and with additional layers of plywood to cover the top as it wore down over time. It now weighed about 300 pounds.
My plan was to move this bench about 100 feet, down the cracked driveway and into the shop next door that I was now inheriting. I never knew why he never used this larger adjacent space, preferring to work in the cramped chipboard-clad garage. I had no helpers that day, and that's probably why I decided to move the work bench - I love challenges like this. There was snow on the ground, so my plan was to flip the workbench flat-side-down and slide it like a giant toboggan.
I used an 8 foot long 2x4 as a lever to wedge underneath the work bench to move it along, making it nearly into the new shop until the front of the bench dug itself into the wet grass and could no longer be moved. I struggled with it long enough for the neighbor to take notice.
John moved into the house across the street around the same time we inherited the house, he was one of those neighbors you could count on for anything. Back when he worked for the big three, his forklift's load caught fire with him trapped him inside. He punched his way out of the melting plexiglass cage before collapsing on the ground to be extinguished by co-workers and rushed to hospital, he was in a coma for months. Together, we moved the work bench into place for me to chisel, saw and paint on for the next 7 years.
When we sold the shop, I listed the bench on facebook marketplace with one caveat: "heavy, you move". The guy that showed was a gym dude; beard, tattoos, huge muscles and a new truck. I offered to help, but he just laughed and started moving the bench towards his trailer, so I went back to taping up moving boxes. I checked back on him when I heard the grunting. The bench was stuck and he was now taking a cigarette break, scrolling on his phone and rubbing his shoulder. John would have been out here helping by now, but he downsized to a condo shortly after going skydiving in Florida. I grabbed a 2x4 and wedged it underneath the bench, levered it up over my head and watched the bench slide into the back of the trailer.
"You think you're smart?" the gym dude said to me. No, I'm not smart. Archimedes was smart.