I recently felt a pressing need to own a drill press. No farm shop is complete without one and a man isn’t any kind of man if he doesn’t have a drill press.

An internet search yielded a perplexing panoply of choices. There are big ones, small ones, short ones, and tall ones. I was fantasizing about my ideal drilling machine when the sharp slap of sticker shock stung me in the wallet.

Some drill presses cost more than my first car which, admittedly, was a junker that lacked a few minor accessories such as an engine or a transmission. Just as when I purchased my first car, I felt that didn’t need anything fancy. I just wanted something functional that can drill holes in wood or metal and not my fingers.

I kept a close eye on online classified ads. After weeks of watching and waiting, my patience was rewarded when I espied an ad for a used drill press.

I contacted its owner, Cody, who lives in a nearby small town. He proved to be a very nice young man with a wife and a newborn son. Cody and his little family are just starting out on their life journey.

The drill press was a bit worn and rusty, but then again, so am I. An examination of the machine caused a bolt of recognition to shoot through my gut. The drill had been manufactured in October of 1981, just six months after my wife and I were wed!

This could only be a sign. I would have mortgaged the farm to own that drill but somehow managed to maintain my poker face until Cody and I reached an agreement. It seems that age and experience might have some value after all.

The drill came with a mortising jig. This was a nice option, but I didn’t plan on doing any mortising, especially since I don’t know what, exactly, a mortise is.

I removed the jig, but that created a new problem. Taking off the mortising jig also removed the drill’s depth stop. This probably isn’t a big deal since I’m not a very deep person.

But still, it bothered me. I began to noodle on the problem and came up with a solution that involved a split steel collar and a small amount of welding.

Nobody was more surprised than me when things worked out exactly as I had hoped. Let’s hear it for age and experience!

Solving this problem gave me no small amount of satisfaction. I sat on the tailgate of my pickup for a few minutes and soaked up the pleasure of this little victory.

Spring has truly arrived when you can hear mourning doves cooing their doleful songs and killdeer calling in the distance. I grinned to recall how our dog, Bella, always chases killdeer when we go for our walks. The killdeer always perform their “Oh no, I’ve broken a wing!” display and Bella always falls for it, pursuing the feathery faker for half a mile or more.

Bald eagles have been spotted in our neighborhood. Seeing an eagle closeup and in person is much different than viewing one in a photo or video. A bald eagle is a majestic bird. And by “majestic” I mean “large enough to carry off a subcompact car.” This is yet another reason to drive a pickup truck.

The pursuit of happiness is enshrined in America’s founding documents. Many of us pursue happiness but, like Bella chasing the killdeer, are never able to catch it. Happiness is always just beyond our reach.

Is there a recipe for happiness?

If there were, somebody would have patented it, packaged it, and hawked it on tacky late-night television infomercials. It’s the American way.

I don’t claim to know any more than the next guy when it comes to happiness. But I do think that contentment is a crucial part of the recipe, similar to the way that yeast is crucial to making bread. Plus, the fragrance of rising bread can serve as a cover for some of my more aromatic burps.

Being present in the moment is also important. Savoring the simple pleasures of a warm spring afternoon, the birds singing, the breeze carrying the wondrous aroma of the soil awakening from its long winter nap. And beneath it all, the joy of a small, unexpected victory.

That old drill press was good enough for me. I’m grateful that my wife came to the same conclusion all those years ago regarding me when we started out on our life journey together.

This is yet another reason to feel content. Or maybe I’m just full of yeast.

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