As a teenager I spent an entire afternoon hunting for that one, specific, small wrench that was needed to fit into a tight spot on a motorcycle.
Sunset came and passed, with the beautiful autumn day gone.
In exasperation, I just simply sat down in the middle of the shop (damn! I had access to a nice workplace, way back then)
....felt something under my butt.
Thought to myself, I know I've swept this floor today.
So what the heck is under me?
Reached around and couldn't find anything under my keister.
hmm.
Stood up and dug a hand into my hip pocket.
Yep. There the little wrench was.
Stiff enough pants that a light hand patting of things had lost the feel of the tool in the seam.
In retrospect...
Missing that wrench during a pocket pat down was probably one of the first, earliest, warning signs of "white finger" trouble coming on from holding so many vibrating tools or handlebars or sometimes pounding things with my fist instead getting up and going to fetch a plastic~rubber mallet.
