The Love-Hate Relationship with Myford: A Tale of Woodturning Adventures
You know, there’s something about woodturning that gets its hooks in you. It’s like the whiff of sawdust mixed with a hint of freshly cut wood, kind of like the scent of a pine forest after a rain. I swear, my Myford woodworking lathe has become my trusted partner over the years—though it’s more like a sibling that you both love dearly and sometimes want to strangle.
The First Project
Let me tell you about the first time I really decided to dive into this lathe business. I had this old piece of oak sitting in my garage, inherited from my granddad, bless his soul. I always thought it had potential, whatever that means when it’s just a hunk of wood. Anyway, I got all excited and thought, “Tonight’s the night!”
I prepped my Myford, and oh man, the feeling of turning that machine on for the first time was something else. The sound of the motor is like a deep, satisfied hum that feels like it vibrates right down into your bones. But let’s just say I didn’t fully grasp how wood works—especially not oak, with its stubbornness and all.
Honestly, I was clueless. I picked up what I thought was the right chisel, one of those fancy ones I picked up during a whim at the hardware store. I didn’t even check if it was sharp. Pro tip: always check.
So there I was, trying to coax this stubborn hunk of wood into some semblance of a bowl, and instead, I ended up with what looked like a lopsided frisbee. I laughed when it actually worked, or rather, when it didn’t. My wife, watching me from the kitchen, couldn’t help but chuckle at my futile attempt.
A Lesson on Patience
Now, frustration kicked in pretty quickly. I almost gave up after that first fail. I mean, who wants to stand there in a cloud of sawdust, holding a piece of wood that looks like it was part of a chop shop? But there’s something about woodturning that pulls you back. Maybe it’s the thrill of seeing something beautiful emerge from what looks like a disaster. Or maybe it’s the stubbornness in me that can’t stand to back down.
After a few days of sulking, I decided to throw on some old rock tunes and give it another shot. This time, I sharpened my chisels—yep, learned that the hard way. I chose some softer pine to ease my way back in. The moment that chisel made contact and started carving that wood into—well, something that resembled a bowl, I realized I was hooked.
The Myford Magic
What I love about my Myford lathe is how it feels like an extension of your own hands. The way it grumbles to life under the weight of the wood, the rhythm of the cutting—there’s a certain flow to it. I can get lost for hours, tinkering and shaping.
There was this one piece—I think it was maple, or at least I hoped it was (I’m still no expert)—that turned out better than I thought. The grain popped with those rich, warm tones that make you feel like you’re sitting around a fire. The satisfaction in that moment, seeing the wood transform, made all those bungled attempts worth it.
But, of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There was the time I thought I could multitask. Bad choice. In the middle of shaping a spindle, I decided to check my phone for messages. Can you guess what happened? Yup, I got a little too relaxed and the piece flew off the lathe. Good times! Just a reminder to stay focused when you’re working with power tools—yikes.
Small Wins Go a Long Way
Now, I’m no woodturning master, but every project teaches you something. I’ve learned to respect the wood, to listen to it in a way. Some pieces surprise you; others don’t. Oh boy, have I ruined my fair share, but there’s no lesson quite like discovering the quirks of each unique piece.
Like that walnut I finally tackled. It was dark and heavy, a beast of a wood. It had this rich, oily feel to it, and, I gotta tell ya, when I was finally able to smooth it out to a shiny finish, I felt like I’d won a small battle.
Every piece I create now carries a part of my journey—the first lopsided frisbee, the time I got a minor cut from not paying attention, and those quiet moments of satisfaction. Yeah, it’s easy to focus on the end product, but what I cherish the most are those little lessons along the way and how they mold you into not just a woodturner, but also a person.
A Warm Takeaway
So if you’re sitting there thinking about trying your hand at woodturning or even just diving into a new hobby, I can tell you this: Just go for it. Don’t sweat the mistakes—they’re just part of the recipe. If someone had told me to embrace the chaos early on, I might have avoided a few heartbreaks.
But then again, it’s those missteps that made it all the more rewarding. So fire up that Myford, grab a piece of wood, and let it inspire you. You never know what might come out of it. And who knows? You might just end up with something beautiful, or at the very least, a great story to share over a cup of coffee.
