(EDITOR'S NOTE: The following column originally appeared Feb. 7, 2005.)

Hey doc, can you put this thumb back on for me?

I'm not mechanically inclined.

Can't fix anything on a vehicle, can't build anything, not very comfortable with any device that plugs into an electrical outlet and is designed to change the shape of any type of material.

It's not that I don't want to be a Mister Fix-It type, I really would like to be one. I'd like to be able to grab something out of a toolbox and make some metal-banging-against-metal noise and cause something that was broken to work like new again.

Guys have great respect for guys who can fix things, guys who can slide under a car and take something off and put something else on and then crawl back out with a smile on their face, confident that he has corrected the problem.

But alas, that guy is not I.

Instead I'm the guy who gets rushed to the emergency room with a towel wrapped tightly around his hand with his wife carrying his severed thumb in a jar of ice.

EMERGENCY ROOM DOCTOR (TURNING TO MY WIFE AS THEY RUSH ME TO A TREATMENT ROOM): "What happened?"

WIFE: "I'm not sure. I was in a room on the other end of the house and he yelled back there and said he was going outside to saw up some limbs that had fallen after all that hail we got a while back. He got out the door before I could stop him." DOCTOR: "What was he using when he lost his thumb?"

WIFE: "A chainsaw."

DOCTOR: "You mean he got outside and had time to get a chainsaw started before you could stop him?"

WIFE: "Nope. He never did get it started. This happened when it fell off the shelf."

DOCTOR (SCRATCHING HIS HEAD): "I don't believe I've ever seen that."

See, I'm THAT guy. I'm the guy who takes his vehicle in to have it fixed and has to take the mechanic's word for it.

If a car repair guy wanted to rip me off, well, that would be no great challenge.

ME (TO THE MECHANIC): "Can you guys take a look at my car? It's making a clunking noise and it seems to be running a little hot."

THE MECHANIC: "When did it start?"

ME: "A couple of days ago - right after I found that family of possums sleeping on top of the engine."

HE RAISES THE HOOD AND JIGGLES SOME WIRES AND GLANCES AROUND WHILE I WAIT PATIENTLY OFF TO THE SIDE: "Here's your problem. It's your hydraulic bendigo." ME: "It's what? Did you say bendigo something?"

MECHANIC: "Yeah, that's right."

ME (WITH A QUIZZICAL FROWN): "Bendigo? Isn't that a city in Australia?"

MECHANIC: "Yeah. Probably just a coincidence."

See, I'm THAT guy. You might as well stamp "SUCKER" on my forehead whenever I get anywhere near a garage. A mechanic could see me coming and call his wife and say, "Honey, remember that sailboat we were looking at? Well, I'm pretty sure you can go ahead and order that bad boy."

I was reminded of my mechanical ineptitude a while back when we went to one of those mega-centers where they sell home furnishings, tools, appliances, etc. They had a faucet there priced at $521.90. A faucet.

Who pays $521.90 for a faucet?

And where do you install that thing? Does it go on your gold-leaf bathtub or your diamond-studded kitchen sink?

I don't know who manufactures a $521.90 faucet but it's probably the same company that makes hydraulic bendigos.

It sounds like the kind of thing a mechanic would have in the bathroom on his sailboat.