Here’s a tip for handliners, a trick I learned from my stepfather. Cut up an old bicycle inner tube into 1 1/2″ lengths and wear one on your index finger so you can detect the slightest nibble on the line, but still protect your hand from line cuts if you get a strike or hook a big one.

Throw a few extras in your tackle box in case you lose one.

I may go for some panfish while I’m down here, but I’m really not much of a fisherman. I’m more of a person who meditates in places fish hang out.

The first story involved an elderly couple with a typical early ’20s two story Sears type home. Well maintained, they fell for a slick ad campaign and salesman. The tile roof was duly installed even though the house was not designed for it.

Everything sagged, nails started coming out of the rafters and joists and the house looked as if it might collapse inward at any time.

The contractor said it was all legal and that’s the way it goes sometimes. I said that legal wasn’t enough, it had to work and that wasn’t working. I added that an elderly couple was scared to death to stay in their own home and that I wouldn’t stay in it either.

Taking it off was too easy. I recommended they make it work. Hire an engineer, and design esthetically pleasing ways to reinforce the structure to hold the roof. And pay for it all.

Another house had space sheeting and cedar shakes. All code, inspected and approved. Snow blew in all around the sheeting and shakes into the attics, accumulated, melted, ruined ceilings and walls.

Contractor said it was code, had been signed off, and that’s the way it goes sometimes. This was so egregious I called a TV station and wrote up a list of corrective measures which were simply common sense. Builder protested, and ultimately the blame was spread around to a lot of folks, including the city which approved it.

Out here where there is neither snow or hurricanes, but there are earthquakes, roofs tend to be somewhat flimsy. After all, it may drop on you someday.

Wood shakes are supposed to be treated for flame resistance, but I still hosed my roof down during bottle-rocket season. There are shakes made of some indestructible composites, but why bother? Plain shingles are cheaper, and won’t burn. I got good quality ones.

The original shake roof was nailed right onto thin slats, with only the roof paper in between. Made me nervous walking on it. Now at least I’ve got plywood up there.

My roof is made of cement slabs an inch thick and 18″ on a side. Hurricane proof, and keep them painted and patch the heat cracks every few years with a coat of sealer on top and they last forever. My house was built in 1969 and it still has the factory roof on it.

Yeah the handymen are great, we’ve had good luck with them, but if one screws up big time you can’t go to the law for satisfaction. And if one falls off your roof or gets hurt on the job you get a free ticket to Lawsuit City. Also, the city permit Inspectors hate them, and monitor them pretty vigorously. A couple of my neighbors have had to rip out perfectly good jobs for some tiny infraction of code.

My garage office was built by one of these guys to my design. Great work, too.

A sign I always look for in any mechanic or handyman is the phrase, “You can do it this way just as good and a lot cheaper.” Bingo! A keeper.

On the other hand, I had my roof done through Home Depot, and they did a great job in a surprisingly short time.

All the houses in my court except the one old original farmhouse down at the end started out with wood shake roofs (part of the same development, with similar designs). Wood shake roofs kind of suck on a number of fronts. Over time, one owner at a time replaced the shakes with conventional shingles, and my time came.

They stripped the roof and replaced it within days–an astoundingly rapid process. Due to one of the evil curses which hangs over my head, we got a light rain on the one day the roof was open. In the Bay Area. In August. Not enough to do damage, but annoying. I think it was the only rain all summer.

The one flub was that someone missed replacing a rubber collar around a vent pipe and I got a leak after the first rain in the fall. I fixed it myself for a couple of bucks–not worth making a stink about, and I was just relieved that the problem turned out to be that simple.

The man is fully licensed and bonded, is meticulous about City permits and presenting detailed estimates and explaining options and their pros and cons. The few minor problems and warranty issues we have brought to his attention he has promptly made good at his own expense, without any whining, weaseling or excuses. And he hauls away all the construction debris and cleans up the mess he’s left behind.

Frankly I don’t see how the man can earn a living. He gives us a detailed accounting, and his work is not cheap, compared to the usual handyman rates. But when we figure his time, materials, the permit shuffle, overhead, and what he pays the first-rate craftsmen he subs out to (who he personally supervises), I don’t see how he makes an honest profit.

He is the model every business should strive for, and which fewer and fewer these days seem to achieve. I wish him the best of luck, and I try to keep him happy by paying my bills on time, recommending him to my neighbors, and writing glowing testimonials to his website. But I fear he is either going to have to change his business plan (for the worst), or go to work for a bigger outfit. He can’t compete with the big houses.

A few years ago, we had our kitchen remodeled, by contracting a large Home Improvement company (you’d recognize the name, they also operate big stores). The work was late, cost too much (now that we know a little more about the business), parts had to be redone because they were not up to code, and done by platoons of unsupervised individual contractors who were constantly getting in each others way, delayed, and in one case, unlicensed. The final job, although within specs, was shown to have problems and substandard quality. The prime contractor made only a poor effort to supervise and coordinate the subs. They just skimmed their 10% off the top.

Our guy is Brazilian, and has been in this country for about ten years now. I hope he makes out OK.

I finally went to my domestic mechanic, a great tire-and-brake guy who didn’t do imports, and asked for a reference to someone who would work on VWs. He pointed me to a guy with a little one-door shop in Sunnyvale.

I went over to the new guy, and left the van there. Next day he calls me, just to let me know how things are going. “I think I’m on the track here,” he says.

Day after that, he says “come get the car.” Everything works. He opens the hood and points to a foot-long piece of green wire he’d installed with a ring connector screwed to the frame, basically a missing ground connection that all the electronics in the car had been bitching about. A couple of bucks for the wire, and about twenty more (as I remember) for all the labor.

Still using that guy, and still kicking myself for not asking Phil for a reference sooner.