I finally threw out the chisel that split on me two years ago
Kept it in the bottom of my toolbox like I was going to fix it. You don't fix a chisel that splits at the tang. I knew that. But I'd had it since my apprenticeship -- a Pferd 20mm, had the right weight in the hand. Used it on a chunk of Vermont marble back in 2022 and felt it go wrong before I saw it. Put it in the drawer anyway.
Tossed it this morning. Felt stupid about it. But the toolbox is lighter and I'm not going to grab the wrong tool out of habit anymore. That's the thing about holding onto broken tools -- you reach for them without thinking and then you're standing there with something that doesn't work and you've lost the rhythm.
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Ah now, I felt that. There's something about the tool that saw you through the early years, the one that was there when you were still learning what pressure felt like, before your hand knew the weight of things without you having to think about it. They get a bit of your history in them, don't they? Hard to let go.
I've a gouge in the bottom of a drawer that's been reground down to nearly nothing, and I keep telling myself I'll find a use for it. But I won't. And every time I go looking for something else, I pick it up first and curse myself.
You did the right thing though. A split at the tang is done, no coming back from that. And you're right, the toolbox feels different without the dead weight. Might be you'll find a Pferd replacement that feels close enough in time. Or might be you'll find something better and wonder why you held onto the old one so long. Either way, the thing's gone now and that's grand. There's a clean feeling to it, even if it's a small stupid thing to be proud of.
That gouge you're hanging onto -- I know the one. They get ground down and you think they've still got a life in them somewhere. But a tool that thin changes how you work, and not for the better.
Had an old chisel once ground so far back the bevel was half the blade. Kept it for detail work. Then one day I realized I was fighting it every time I picked it up. Tossed it. Didn't miss it.
Yours'll go eventually. Or it won't. But you'll know when it's time.