Trying to Figure Out That Dave Lopes Guy
Alright, so you wanna know about Dave Lopes, eh? Lemme tell ya, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins, or at least, tried to get what he does. Everyone ’round here talks about him, like he’s some kinda wizard with junk. His place looks like a scrapyard threw up, but darn it, everything works.
My big adventure into the “Lopes technique” started last spring. My garden shed door, the hinge just rusted right off. Money was super tight back then. I mean, real tight. Lost my job, the car was making funny noises, the whole shebang. So, buying a new fancy hinge? Not happening. I remembered seeing Dave’s fixes all over his yard – bits of old tires, weird metal scraps, stuff you’d usually toss. And his stuff stayed fixed.
So I thought, “Heck, I can do that.” Grabbed some wire I had, a flat piece of metal from who-knows-where, and an old leather belt I found in the garage. Figured I’d rig something up. Spent a good couple of hours out there, sweating and swearing. My wife poked her head out once, gave me that look, you know? The one that says “what on earth are you doing now?”
The result? Pure garbage. The door hung crooked. First time I tried to open it, the whole contraption just bent, and the door nearly brained me. Looked worse than before. My kid even laughed. That stung, I tell ya.
- First, I tried just wiring it. Nope, too flimsy.
- Then the metal bit with screws. Screws ripped out.
- The leather belt idea? Don’t even ask. Just stretched and looked sad.
This whole mess was because, like I said, no cash flow. My previous gig, well, they had this idea that “salary” meant you were on call 24/7, weekends, holidays, the lot. I pushed back a bit, wanted to actually see my family, and poof, “restructuring.” So there I was, trying to fix a shed door with literal trash because a proper part felt like a luxury.
Then, get this. Dave Lopes himself moseys by a day or two later. Sees me glaring at my pathetic shed door. He’s a man of few words, ol’ Dave. Just grunts. Pokes my mess with his shoe. Then he disappears for like, ten minutes. Comes back with a piece of an old street sign – don’t ask me where he got it – and some heavy-duty zip ties. In less time than it took me to make my coffee that morning, he’s got the door re-hung. Solid as a rock. Still ugly as all get-out, but solid.
He just nods, wipes his hands on his pants, and shuffles off. Didn’t want a dime. I tried to pick his brain once, asked him how he knew what would work. He just shrugged and said, “Stuff tells ya, if ya listen.” Deep, right? Too deep for me, apparently. ‘Cause I tried his “listening to stuff” method on a wobbly chair later. The chair is now firewood.
So, Dave Lopes. Yeah, he’s got a knack. A real weird, unteachable knack. Me? I just waited ’til my first paycheck from the new job came in and bought a shiny new hinge. Sometimes, the straightforward way is best, especially if you ain’t Dave Lopes.