Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

by Vincent Keith

  “When can you come?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Fine. I’ll go grocery shopping. Bring your computer and grab pads of paper and some pencils.”

  “Have those, lots of those. I’ll catch you tomorrow… and… Thanks, Henry.”

  “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

  Jack doubted he’d ever be self-sufficient on his own. He really wanted to be part of a larger group that shared his goals. Henry, almost twice his age, was his closest confidant, and one of his best friends. Jack still hadn’t called Steve or Marty to tell them about his plans. Things were too sketchy still, and Jack was afraid they’d say he was nuts and talk him out of it. That probably says more about my frame of mind than about how they’ll take the news, Jack thought.

  JACK SET down the fresh pitcher of beer and dropped back into his seat. “My business has been shrinking about as fast as printed media. With all the visuals used on the web, there ought to be more demand. I guess there is, it’s just not a demand for quality. It’s all about being first.”

  “I can’t say as I’ve paid much attention other than knowing the days of the printed media are numbered. Now might be the perfect time to change careers if you’re inclined.”

  “That’s the plan. I’ve been finding it harder and harder to get excited by the work. Which I suppose might be part of my problem. Although, I suspect it’s mostly the economy. I know several old customers are using much younger photographers who work for nothing more than exposure. That’s a trend I don’t see ending anytime soon.”

  “How does that work?”

  Jack took a long sip of the ice-cold beer and sighed.

  “Normally? You live with your parents and have no expenses. You’re unemployed, so you have lots of time to shoot. Then you give away your work on the theory you’ll make a name for yourself.”

  “Self-destructive marketing. That’s fascinating, I wonder if that happens in any other industry?”

  “From my side it’s depressing. They don’t seem to understand the precedent that sets.”

  “I suspect they see established photographers making money and figure that the quickest way to become established is to give away the work. They’re suffering from a very common malady. They don’t think through the consequences of their actions.”

  “No kidding. Once they make a name for themselves, they’ve just priced themselves out of the market.”

  “Okay, you’re changing everything else, so a career change seems to be in order. Your dependence on a declining market with no barrier to entry is a problem. What you have now is demand for something that used to require skill, but now needs speed and I don’t know…ubiquity?”

  Henry paused while he refilled both their glasses. “They can get images from anyone and darn near everyone. They get them almost as fast as they’re taken. People have gotten used to the lower quality, so equipment is no longer a barrier to entry, and neither is the skill.”

  “True enough. The stuff I do for galleries I still love, and I won’t give that up, it’ll just be a hobby again. Besides, I had three galleries close on me so far this year, and two last year. I only have three left and I’m not sure how much longer they’ll be around.”

  “You still want to be self-employed, but you need something that has a stable demand that not everyone and their brother can do. Photography has become, essentially, a commodity. It’s not a scarce resource anymore, everyone with a phone now has a camera, and almost everyone has a phone. Media has become all about good enough right now. Quality is secondary.”

  “It seemed like such a good match way back when.”

  “It was, but nothing stays the same, you need to change with it or get left in the dust.”

  “Hah, that’s an interesting line coming from someone who pushes the exact opposite.”

  “Well… No, we’re talking about generating income, not how to live.”

  “Most people don’t see much difference.”

  “Yep, that’s a problem.”

  “Okay, let’s say I sell the house, the studio, pretty much everything. I take the funds and learn to do something new. A trade skill I think. If everything goes to hell in a hand-basket, computer experts won’t be in high demand… Will they?”

  “No, probably not. The skills needed for survival after an event are not ideally suited to making money in the here and now.”

  “Computers are the only other thing I know about that might be marketable. Got to be something that carries over right?”

  “What about blacksmithing?”

  “Um, I guess making a living by shoeing horses would be okay.” Jack tried to visualize himself tending to animals.

  “No, that’s a trade skill all by itself, they’re called farriers. That might be a better choice, but I’m not sure there’s any shortage of farriers around here.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I need to make money at it.”

  “There are lots of winemakers not too far from here. You could learn how to make barrels. If everything falls apart, those will be useful… Well, maybe not for a few years. It would depend on how fast we get to the point of having excess food. I could see them being useful right way for storing rain water. How about welding?”

  “It would be a useful trade, but it depends on access to a lot of stuff like electricity, wire, rods, and gas, doesn’t it?”

  “Hmm, true, true. So if you don’t have it stocked, you’re out of luck. Well, one thing we’ll want around here for sure is wind-powered water pumps. Learning how to fix those would be good.”

  “How many people need their wind-powered pumps repaired around here now?”

  “It’s a growing field. Install and repair of wind-powered pumps and wind generators. That might work pretty well.”

  “Okay, that’s a possibility.” Jack scribbled it down in his notebook.

  “Medical? Fire, ambulance, EMT, that kind of thing?”

  “I… I don’t think so. I mean, I could, but… I suspect it would depress the hell out of me.”

  “Helping people?”

  “No, losing them.”

  “Ah. Okay, do you know anything about guns?”

  “Guns? I hunt. Why?”

  “Gunsmithing. I know we have a shortage of gunsmiths because it takes forever and a month to get anything done around here. Old Eugene is retired, more or less, and doesn’t work on more than about one a month. And that’d be a good month.”

  “Really? So what sort of work would I need to do? I can mount and boresight a scope now. I guess I’d have to fix broken parts, what else?”

  “If you want to make money at it, you’ll need training as a machinist. Probably some welding. I imagine you’d need to learn how to make custom pistols and rifles. Maybe master the art of checkering wood stocks, or even making stocks from scratch. You already have an eye for detail, but also need to be good with your hands.”

  “I’m good with my hands, but I’ve never used a mill or lathe. Haven’t done any welding either. I always wanted to although I can’t explain why...” Jack scratched his beard as he considered the odd assortment of things he’d always wanted to learn but had never gotten around to.

  “There are a few different courses I’ve seen advertised, but you’ll want to do some serious research. Figure on two full years of school. I’ll talk to Eugene, see if he knows anything useful.”

  The idea hit Jack like a cold beer on a hot day. He needed a career where he had more control. One that relied less on other businesses that had a long history of short lives. Some magazines like National Geographic had long histories, but the majority of his work was for publications that came and went with alarming speed. The fine art world of photography was even worse since photographs were rarely considered investments. The people who purchased Jack’s work did so because they liked it, not because they would stick it in a drawer and wait for the value to go up. During hard economic times, art was one of the first expenses to go.

  They continued to make
lists of possible careers, some better for the here and now, some better for after. Jack saw little point in living his life for an event that might not happen. He weeded out the esoteric stuff like building hand looms, or horse-drawn plows. They were useful items, but the market was small, and he’d be competing against people who’d been at it much longer.

  He was getting close to using credit to cover his expenses. The only viable solution was to sell off everything that wasn’t useful going forward. He sold the studio and most of his camera gear and his large printers. Jack hoped that simplifying would help as he prepared to go back to school. The longer-term project was selling the house in a down market.

  The house was on the market for almost four months and went for half of what it was worth only two years ago. He’d figured every month he delayed cost him somewhere between $2,500 and $3,000 in lost income. He took an offer that was a little below the already depressed prices. Giving up the house for $20,000 less was a wash if it got the house off the market seven months’ sooner. Jack tried not to dwell on it. He was moving forward again. That was enough for now.

  EUGENE WAS due back from a fishing trip in a few days, and Jack was looking forward to spending time with him. In the meantime, he busied himself with digging the trench for the floor drain of the new brewing shed. Sweat dribbled down his forehead as he used the pick to dig out the last root.

  He was down to good solid earth now all the way to the main septic line. By mid-afternoon, he’d cut into the main sewer drain that led to the septic system and laid in all the pipe. Jack pulled out his electronic level and checked the slope for proper drainage. With that done, he scheduled the inspection to sign off on the plumbing and rebar. Then Henry would need to find someone to pour the slab.

  The inspector came by on Friday and signed off on the work. Somehow, Henry had managed to find someone to deliver concrete on the weekend.

  Jack learned a lot about concrete as the morning wore on. With the lower part of the wall and the floor all done in cement, Henry could just hose down the entire floor. They needed to take a break for a couple of days to let the concrete set before starting on the framing. A couple of days off sounded like an excellent idea.

  Jack made a new pitcher of iced tea and got cleaned up for his meeting. Eugene arrived while Jack was still in the shower. Eugene spent the time by getting Henry involved in another game of cribbage. Jack waited while the two men finished up the game. The trio spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on Henry’s porch sipping iced tea and learning about the gunsmithing trade.

  “You’d earn about forty-thousand dollars a year in this area,” said Eugene. “If you’re running your own shop, anyway. If you work for someone else, figure twenty-eight thousand to start. Ten years down the road as much as fifty, but you’d likely have to move. Just can’t support that around here.”

  “Definitely my own shop.”

  “Right, well you can make more if you’re willing to build custom guns, long-range rifles, 1911 pistols and Glock modifications. Things like that.”

  “Enough more to make it worth the extra work?”

  “Not so much extra work as more regular work. Less down time. Bigger market with better profit. Once you fix a fellow’s rifle, you’ll not see that piece again for years, if ever.”

  “So, repeat business depends more on them getting additional guns or wanting changes to the ones they have?”

  “Yep, there’s a real market here for single action pistols, lever-action rifles, and double-barreled shotguns mostly from the Cowboy Action Shooters. The three-gun shooters are a sizable group.”

  “Three-gun?”

  “Competition shooters. They use pistols, rifles, and shotguns, but modern stuff. The Cowboy Action Shooters all use the old school guns. I’m not sure what the exact rules are. They’re a good bunch of folk. I get more requests in a month to work on pistols and rifles for Cowboy Shooters than I can handle. I turn away about nine in ten, cause I don’t have the time.”

  “That sounds interesting. Is there a regular event around here?”

  “I’ll make some calls. I’m sure Black Bart Whitman can show you the Cowboy Action Shooting, he lives for it. Bart is always looking for new folks, so don’t be surprised if he tries to recruit you. We can go visit Davy Thompson, he shoots at the national level in three-gun competition, so he practices about five days a week. Got sponsors and everything.”

  “They have professional shooters?”

  “Sure. Manufacturers have teams, other sponsors too.”

  “Damn, I want that job!”

  Eugene laughed. “You’re a bit late to be starting.”

  “Why? When do they usually start?”

  “Oh, ten or twelve years old.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure. Davy started when he was eight. That was twelve years ago.”

  “He’s not even twenty-one, and he’s a professional shooter?”

  “Yep.” Eugene couldn’t help but grin at Jack’s expression. “Wait till you see that boy shoot. It’ll put your jaw right in the dirt.”

  “Huh. Okay, I’m game. Whenever you can arrange it.”

  “Competition folks spend more money on their hardware than your average folks. I’ve got a big backlog of work on those, you can come help me out and get your hands dirty. It’ll give you a chance to learn what the work is like, and you’ll get to make a bunch of new friends. Friends that might be your future customers.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea, Eugene. I’d love to do that, assuming I get Henry to stop working me eighteen hours a day.”

  “Might be that we’ll figure something out,” said Henry, dry as a bone.

  Eugene laughed, “Gotta love these youngsters, lots of energy and not too long on brains.”

  Jack chuckled, “Well, I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Given the price of education nowadays, I might just be getting the better end of the deal.”

  Eugene snorted. “Ain’t no one ever accused me of being an educator.”

  “I view that as a good thing, keeps the price reasonable,” said Jack. “So, competitive shooters are good business, what else?”

  “If you get a name for yourself, you can pull in business from all over the country. Never got that far myself. Then again, I prefer to have more time for fish’n. If you want to keep the local folks happy, you need to work on most everything, but it don’t mean you can’t do some specialization. Now, I prefer working on hunting rifles, but some prefer pistols. There are some who specialize in a single pistol, the old 1911 GI .45 is the most common.”

  “That’s what I carry, but it came with most of the mods already on it.”

  “There’s a big difference in quality between parts, most of the off-the-shelf guns don’t use the best parts. Guys who have the money, well they like to spend it on guns.”

  Jack laughed, “Guilty as charged. I’ve swapped the sights, grips, and considered adding a rail for a gun light.”

  “See? But, when you get to the fancy pieces, sometimes it’s easier to build ‘em from scratch.”

  “Do you mill the actual frame and slides?”

  “You can do that, but there are suppliers for unfit slides, frames, barrels, and all the other parts. The customer can pick and choose, within reason, you do the fitting.”

  “Huh, so if I got into that, what sort of income could I generate.”

  “Oh, you’d net sixty-thousand or more if you keep a backlog of work. Nowadays you can send most stuff out for bluing, or them other coatings. If you did ‘em yourself, probably make a bit from that too.”

  “Based on what Henry and I figured for a budget, I need about twenty-three grand to live on, between taxes and insurance, food and power.”

  “Must not have a mortgage.”

  “No, well I sold my house and a lot of cameras. I have enough to buy a place if I can find the right one. No mortgage, no car payment, not yet anyway, no debts at all. I figure my biggest expenses will be property taxes and insuranc
e of various types, food, and power. If I do it right, power should be next to nothing.”

  “Not if you’re running a full shop. Hot bluing tank, mill, lathe, drill press. All take money to run.”

  “Sure but you said net, right? So that’s after business expenses?”

  “Ayup.” Eugene finished his iced tea. He shook the glass causing the ice to rattle before grabbing the pitcher to refill the glass.

  “That sounds doable,” said Jack. “I’m not going to cut into your retirement am I?”

  “Not enough to matter, I’ll be available to give you a hand if you need it. I expect to spend most of my days fish’n, tying flies, or losing cribbage to Henry.”

  “Ha! You too? I’d have thought luck counted for more in that game or is Henry just naturally lucky?”

  “Bit of both I think.”

  With an income of almost sixty-thousand, once he established a good name, he’d be able to hire someone to help with the gardening and other chores while he worked in the shop. To do more than that, he’d have to hire other gunsmiths to do the some of the work. All of which seemed like too much. It wasn’t the lack of ambition so much as wanting to avoid the additional complication and headaches.

  Jack and Eugene spent hours talking about the needed skills, start-up costs, what he’d need to buy new or what he could get used. The most expensive machines were available on the used market for only a few thousand.

  “How would that work if say we didn’t have power anymore?”

  “Well,” said Henry, “a Stirling Cycle engine burning biomass would run a generator. Or a micro-hydro generator… I’ve also seen a few different steam generators that are small and affordable. I doubt you’d get a reliable seven-kilowatts out of one, maybe five or six. The trick would be in building the boiler, but they have those too. Wind power would work here sometimes, but it’s not reliable. Heck, even a water wheel on the river would work.”

  “Let’s put a tack in that and assume I can figure out a way to power the machines off grid. Anything else that might pose issues?”