So I noticed today when cleaning the bathroom that running tap water barely moved in the basin. "Of course, no one bothered to clean the drain pipes before I moved in here," I thought to myself, and began twisting screws underneath the basin to release the water that was standing there.

When I released the plastic bottom underneath the container, it was filled with old dirt. It all spilled down unto the bathroom floor and made it look as if an animal had just been taking a shower. I began releasing the rest of the drain pipes and cleaned them with the shower handle. When it was all clean, I screwed it all back together again and cleaned the mess up.

Back home, my dad would fix every practical problem. In 99 out of 100 times, he solved whatever the problem was. What I've learned from him is that it doesn't always matter if you don't know what you're doing. Just do it. He never knew anything about televisions or CD players. Yet he fixed my portable CD player twice, my stereo, my radio, my doors, my bed, my lamps--he's fixed it all. Once he even repaired a sofa from IKEA that lacked some of the original parts. "Shut up, give me that machine, and stand back." 10 minutes later we'd sit in it and have a beer.

I thought of this when looking over broken things in the apartment today. I haven't looked at half of these things before, simply because they've always worked. Yet, few things are rarely so complicated that you cannot use common sense and some raw muscle power to fix it. It's the long-standing male ideal of someone who takes the matters in his own hands, doesn't rely upon anyone else, and takes joy in fixing his own things when they're broke. He's an everyday highwayman.

As Frank notes, parents who care about their children don't nanny them to protect them from danger and difficulties. They teach them to be self-sufficient and live on their own according to the best of their abilities. I'm no plumber, but I sure damn know how to fix a clogged drain pipe when I see it.