The Man Who Made Me Look Up
That an engineering career can be quiet, documented and enormous at the same time — and that the interesting questions run in families.
THE WALL / INFLUENCES
Nobody builds themselves from scratch.
Somewhere along the way you borrow a way of thinking from someone, become obsessed with a machine, watch somebody solve a problem differently, read a book at exactly the right time or discover something that sends your brain off in a completely new direction.
These are some of mine.
This isn't a list of heroes with motivational quotes attached. It's a list of specific things I took from specific people, most of which I didn't notice I'd taken until years later.
The people who made machines make sense.
That an engineering career can be quiet, documented and enormous at the same time — and that the interesting questions run in families.
Three ways to make something better: combine two things that already exist, develop what is already good, or fail, diagnose why and build version two.
That you can be genuinely obsessed with how something works without ever once needing to sound like an expert about it.
Permission to ask why, at length, in public.
Permission to follow the rabbit holes, build the lab before I fully understand it, and document the learning rather than waiting until I can pretend I was always an expert.
That curiosity needs somewhere to go. An ordinary town with an aerodrome underneath it taught me to follow the path into the trees and find out what the concrete was for.
The habit of testing a claim instead of arguing about it, and the idea that a failed experiment is still a result.
That enthusiasm is nothing to grow out of, and that the person who actually builds the hardware is doing something worth respecting.
Participate. Make things, question things, help people, and every now and again be enough of a pain in the backside to challenge something that doesn't make sense.
You don't need to know everything before you're allowed to care about something. And every so often, switch everything off and go outside.
Doing it properly, and caring about the bit nobody sees.
That knowing how to make something with your hands changes how you value everything else, and that slow is often the fast way.
Good relationships are made, not purchased or discovered fully assembled. Two complete people, each with room to be themselves.
Pride in the finish. The difference between something that works and something somebody has clearly cared about.
That good tools are not an indulgence, and that the people who obsess over them are usually the people doing the tidiest work.
Getting the idea out of your head and onto the bench.
That expertise is accumulated, not awarded. He left school at fifteen and built one skill on top of another until it carried him around the world.
Permission. Start the thing, use the wrong tool if that's the tool you have, and stop waiting until you are qualified enough to begin.
Make things. They don't have to be important or good or become a business. A satisfying life is built, slowly and badly at first, rather than bought.
Subjects I keep circling and haven't written up yet. They're on the list, which is the closest thing I have to a promise.
THE COMMON THREAD
None of these subjects are as disconnected as they look. They're all the same question wearing different clothes: how does that work, and could I make it better?