Every so often I put it up on my build table, do a little bit, feel some frustration, and put it away till later. At age 53, I hope I finish before I am too old to use to use her.

A great article about the orphan canoe. Even though it is not perfect, it has stood the test of time. I bought a used tandem Folbot for two hundred bucks ten years ago. It belonged to a family who built it. It was a disaster both in design and construction. Someone had double-layered the nylon skin making it weigh a ton. To top it off, an above-the-waterline stringer was broken and was poorly repaired. One of the family commented that it was good on Colorado whitewater. Considering the boat, I doubted it. This thing would have been very frightening doing Class 3 and 4.

I tested it at a church picnic event paddling with an experienced canoeist. We both agreed it was a slug and not very maneuverable. On the positive side, it didn’t take on water and was rock solid potato boat stable. I paddled around with many church kids in the front seat. For all the perceived negatives, everyone had a ball on the water.

I decided to strip it and repair the stringer…I even had a friend, a skilled skinboat guy, ready to help me. This guy had five boats under his belt and was a superb craftsman. Looking at the whole situation, particularly the space in my shed for good boats, I knew for certain I didn’t need this thing. I offered it to my skinboat friend…he immediately refused. Eventually, I sold it as is for 75 bucks to a guy with stars in his eyes and cash in his hand. Good riddance!

Chris, you got a better deal than I did.

After building seven imperfect boats and some thirty pieces of imperfect furniture, I have finally come to an imperfect accommodation with my limitations. While I haven’t quit striving for excellence and working to become a better craftsman, I’ve come to accept that the errors and imperfections are just a reflection of who I am: Not Leo Goolden, but not an inferior human either—just one with a different set of skills and priorities.

I live in a house full of furniture that I’ve built over the last fifteen years. Some of the earlier pieces are laughably amateurish. Some of the later ones are much more ambitious and stylish but still replete with (mostly) small errors. But all are functional, and I’ve chosen to keep them because together they form a kind of living graph of my experimentation and growth as a designer and builder. And as long as the trajectory points more or less upward, and the pieces do what they need to do, there’s no reason to be ashamed of them.

When someone finally inherits them, I hope he or she will come to feel the same way Chris does about the Piccolo builder. That’s tribute enough.