And don’t forget the left-handed monkey wrench.
Ah, the wild goose chases people get sent on in order to get them out from under foot, or as part of being initiated into the ranks of mechanic and line-guy.
Having grown up reading military history and “No [kidding], there I was” stories, I was familiar with the hazards of being sent to the parts department for flight line, or to the hangar at the far end of the row in order to borrow a bucket of prop wash. And of course a can of elbow grease, can’t forget that.
The left-handed monkey wrench goes back probably to the Roman army and Roman plumbers.
Sky-hooks. Salute traps. Plaid paint (and striped paint), left-handed screwdrivers, snipe traps… OK, I do have a snipe sack and license, and I have been out on a snipe hunt once. Fifty feet of shoreline. Bucket of steam. A board stretcher (so you don’t have to cut a two by four any longer). A six-foot post-hole. A bastard file (which actually exists, sort of), a double-reverse check valve, an electron counter (because there’s a leak and the smoke got out), a smoke-replacement kit, the list is as long as the evil imagination of a chief mechanic, tech sergeant, or master electrician, or Navy chief. I once heard someone being sent to as a question of a professor in office 813. The building only had seven levels.