It is amazing how much time, money and effort can be spent schlepping these obscure raw materials from one inconvenient place to another for "rainy day" long term, and dare we say "theoretical" projects.
Recently, my beloved husband, keeper of a particularly prized (so he tells me) hunk of obscure metal, took me with him to Montana about 1000 miles from here to retrieve it from the ravages of the elements back to the safety of our property. After many adventures, which included: Nevada policemen insisting that the brake lights on the trailer actually WORK. Tracking down an Idaho policeman to sign off the fix it ticket, and running out of gas. . .twice,(I kid you not). We have returned our valuable hunk of metal to the warmth of hearth and home.
This quest began with the idea in mind that the hunk of metal would be sold to a man who is interested in adding it to his collection. But on the way home, my husband was beginning to bond with his obscure metal once more, and it's value increased dramatically somewhere between Elko and Winnamucca. This caused him to reconsider letting anyone else take possession of it's wonderfulness.
Now it's ultimate fate is up in the air. In the meantime, it is parked alongside our house, in all it's valuable yet obscure glory. People have been stopping by, looking at it and asking, "What is that thing?" Whereupon my husband can wax eloquent about it's wonderful potential usefulness that has something to do with airplane construction, usually omitting the rainy day references. (Who wants to bring up rain while speaking of such things ? )
It is so sweet really, and harmless in it's way, better he be fondling this hunk of metal than something more animate and much more alarming. Bless him, as long as the other men in the world continue to subscribe to the "Obscure hunks of metal are valuable" cult, all will turn out well in the end. And may that end involve a restored, working piece of equipment, or having the obscure hunk of metal rusting away on someone else's property… Amen!