The Packrat.

His garage was a scrambled assortment of tools, gadgets, and salvage items. He canvassed yard sales and Harbor Freight bargain bins like a prospector from the Yukon; ever searching for that gem that he could not live without.

The space behind the garage was reserved for lawnmowers; each one in a various state of disarray. His wife would shake her head every time a new addition was drug home like some Boone & Crocket trophy. At least it…