Atlas HQ shares a wall with a super-busy, super-high-end custom cabinet manufacturer. I don’t mean the Home Depot-kind of cabinets; I mean the kind that are built from flat pieces of wood (whassat … lumber?) from fancy drawings that fit perfectly into dream kitchens, with not a single little crevice leftover between the finished cabinet and the refrigerator for the bread crumbs to fall in. I’d have to put a lot more than store-brand Triscuits and Deluxe Grahams in my cabinets to justify such things, but I’ve seen them loading them onto trucks and they really are quite beautiful.
When they guys next door are shoving the wood into shapers (lathes? spinners? carvatrons?), the whole neighborhood is heavy with the smell. It’s not exactly a burning wood smell (though it is also a little bit that); some days it smells exactly like a tortilla factory and other days it smells exactly like a toast factory.
All I know is it makes me hungry for tacos or toast. If you read last week’s installment of DG is Blathering On About Something and Why Am I Reading It?, you might be surprised to learn that there’s no authentic toasteria spot nearby, but tacos always sound good. I’m just always grateful that my lunch decision sort of gets made for me before I even have to consciously think about it. Tacos it is!
The guys next door are nice; they wave and do the “Hey, dude” salute or whatever (and I do not think there are any ladies, though I could be wrong). They have little cliques; I see them arriving and leaving together, so I sort of know who is in which group and who goes with who. There’s a subset of them that all ride their fancy motorcycles to work one day a week, like how the characters in “Mean Girls” all wear pink on Wednesdays. It’s not always the same day of the week, though, so I guess they all call each other to determine which day is Bike Day?
They line their bikes up next to each other—each with perfect precision—and every time I see them all lined up outside, I wonder if they go to a class to learn how to line them up like that. It seems like something that would be tricky to get just right … and if you got it wrong, well, I think all the bikes end up in a pile in a ditch. And we all know what happens after that: “Tequila.”
They work on weekends as well, and when I am sometimes here on weekends dealing with problem orders (not that any of them are problems!), I throw open the garage doors and listen to whatever music I am currently listening to as loudly as possible and I do wonder what the charter members of The Woodworkers’ Motorcycle Club make of the 500-decibel Greek Rebetiko music (OR WHATEVER, really) coming out of the fancy yarn barn next door. I guess every single bit of that gives them something to think about.
The prize? A skein of Neighborhood Fiber Co. Organic Studio Sock in cool green Canton.
How to enter?
Step 1: Sign up for our weekly newsletter, Snippets, right here. If you’re already subscribed, you’re set.
Step 2: Leave a comment letting us know the name of your (actual or fantasy) motorcycle club. You know, like “Heck’s Angels.”
Deadline for entries: Sunday, July 25, 11:59 PM Central time. We’ll draw a random winner from the entries. Winner will be notified by email.