Showing posts with label plane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plane. Show all posts

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Tote? Toat? Handle? That wooden thing on the back of a plane.

Why is the handle of a plane called a tote?

I got curious and found this 1883 reference in The Imperial dictionary, on the basis of Webster’s English dictionary, Volume 3; by John Ogilvie.

  • Toat: A joiner’s name for the handle of a plane.

Knight’s American mechanical dictionary, 1882.

  • The bottom of the stock is the sole. The toat is the handle.

Toat is an English variation of tote.

Joseph Moxon used the term “tote” and if you look at the illustrations in Mechanic Exercises (1678), the plane totes look like carrying handles.


Roubo’s planes also had carry handles.


So by my reckoning, they were called totes because they were used for toting around hand planes. I supposed that's equally true of today's planes although that wooden (or plastic) thing on the back looks more like a handle than a tote but who am I to argue with history. 
What do you think toats, totes, or handles?

Friday, November 28, 2014

Before and After Stanley 220 Block Plane

This block plane looked worse than it was. First degreased with a citrus based cleaner, rinsed, then de-rusted. The sole was flattened and the sides were sorta flattened. The blade appeared to be brand new under the rust and corrosion and still had the factory edge. It was fairly flat too. Will make a nice user plane. Most of the body Japanning is intact but the lever cap heel is bare.



After cleaning, before flattening.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Tale of the Plane: a refurbished Stanley 9 1/2




This poor Stanley 9 1/2 had a rough life but in his heart I felt life still, crying out for one more chance to tame the tree.




Bruised, abused, rusted, and chipped; I bathed the once proud workman in oil and acid. I scrubbed his nether regions with steel and rock.






Clad in a new coat of black enamel, his bottom buffed and waxed, starving for so long but now his blade hungered anew.






With a glimmer of forgone glory restored Stanley slid across the plank and with barely a whisper ejected translucent cellulose from his throat.



He wears his scars like a warrior's raiment but they do not diminish him for the worth of anyone or anything is their deeds and this Stanley knows.