It’s been said that many overnight successes take 10 years. But if you are a slow study like me, it can take much, much longer.

In 1990, Dad and I decided that our dairy farm needed a shop. We chose a likely spot on the farmstead and said, “This looks good. Let’s build it here.” That’s pretty much the same system my ancestors used when they homesteaded.

We hired a local carpenter to help us lay out the building site. In our spare time — between milking the cows, caring for the livestock, and crop farming — Dad and I began work on the new building.

Progress was slow. After boring the holes and setting the poles, we began to attach the purlins with hardened ring shank nails that were the size of toothbrushes. My hammering arm became nearly twice the size of my “hold that nail and please don’t bust these knuckles” arm.

After several months of construction, the shop was at last completed. In keeping with our “let’s do this as cheaply as possible” philosophy, we opted to go with a gravel floor and an inexpensive bifold door.

We discovered that inexpensive bifold doors don’t do well when left open during high winds. Under windy conditions, such doors tend to flop about and contort until they resemble a piece of wadded-up newspaper. But at least the crumpled newspaper could be used for something such as lining a bird cage or as emergency bathroom supplies. The wrecked door had to be cut up and tossed on the scrapheap.

Working on machinery in that shop was only marginally better than being out on our gravel driveway. But we had saved a wad on construction costs, dadgummit!

The derecho that roared through our region a year and a half ago tore off half of the shop’s roof. It was either finish the job that the derecho had started or fix things up. I opted for the latter.

My brother Les and his son Dustin operate a construction business, so I hired them to do the work. We soon discovered that doing things on the cheap and not addressing drainage issues can come at the expense of posts that had rotted off at ground level.

After repairing the decayed posts, we began to think about the floor. Should I stay with the gravel or take the plunge (not literally, though) into concrete?

I thought about all the times that I’ve dropped a tiny screw or nut only to have it disappear forever in the gravel or the grass. Even the strongest magnet couldn’t find the stray hardware, perhaps because it had been sucked into the black hole that lies at the earth’s core. Or maybe it was because the nut was made of brass.

So, we went with concrete. While they were at it, Les and Dustin installed a floor drain system, a luxury that I had never considered. Imagine! I can now spill something and wash it away instead of being reminded of the mishap every time I walk through the shop.

We decided to replace the long-gone bifold door with an overhead garage door. Now I can open the shop with the touch of a button instead of the grunt-and-lift counterweight system that came with the old door. This is my first automatic garage door, and it seems extravagant beyond words. I feel like George Jetson every time I push that magic button.

The gutted shop was a blank canvas; I could change anything I wanted. But in the end, I opted to rebuild its interior much the same as it was in 1990.

The first accessory I installed above the new bench was an aerial photo of the farmstead that was taken in 1969. It’s a monochrome reminder of how my parents, my seven siblings and I had scratched out a meager living on that farm. Those were tough times, but they were also the best of times.

I’m gradually retooling the new/ old shop. No shop is complete without a welder and an air compressor. A sturdy vise has been installed and it would be nice to have a drill press. In other words, the shop is currently clean and spiffy, but clutter is inexorably making a comeback.

Possibilities abound! I have a couple of old tractors that need attention. I might even try my hand at woodworking, although my skills in that area closely resemble those of Wile E. Coyote. I need to evolve past using large numbers of jumbo ring shank nails.

I finally have the farm shop I’ve always wanted. That is, as long as I don’t misplace that magic button.

— Jerry’s book, Dear County Agent Guy, is available at http://Workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.