By Tim “Shoe” Sullivan

The weather was great recently, so I hauled out the Weber grill I bought 10 years ago.

You should know that I never took very good care of it over the years. So I was lighting the charcoal when my 23-year-old nephew Bobby Sullivan dropped by.

He looked at the situation and asked, “What are you doing?”

I thought it was a pretty dumb question. Anyone could see I was about ready to grill some chicken. So I answered, “I’m gonna grill some chicken.”

He said, “Well, if you grill anything on that, you’re gonna die.”

That got my attention. I asked why.

He answered, “That thing’s all rusty. Throw it away. Now.”

So we went to ShopKo and looked at grills. I wanted a new Weber. Same kind as the other one.

Bobby pointed and said, “Let’s get THIS one!”

It was not a Weber. It was a nice-looking grill, with a charcoal area and flaps and wheels and all kinds of neat stuff. We called the clerk over and asked her if we could wheel that one right out the door. She said no. I was afraid of that. She said our grill would be in a huge box and we’d have to assemble it ourselves.

A red flag went up immediately. It once took me an hour to put a chain on a bike.

But Bobby was cool. He said, “Hey. No problem. I can put that grill together in ten minutes.”

I said, “Really? Did you ever assemble a grill before?”

“Well, no, but I kinda watched my buddy Logan Marcell put one together once,” he replied.

Ten minutes, huh? We brought the huge box home.

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Bobby said, “This will be simple.”

I asked if I could help.

He said, “Yeah. Bring me a screwdriver and pliers and stay out of my way.”

So I brought him a screwdriver and pliers and put them on the chair in the living room. I sat down on my couch and went on the computer. Bobby opened the box and started taking stuff out. And more stuff. And still more stuff.

He set his glass of Dr. Pepper with ice cubes down. He had pieces of cardboard all over the floor. Plastic wrappers everywhere. One grill wheel was under the TV and another one was in a clothes basket. There were screws and nuts and bolts all over the table, in the chair, on the fridge and in the kitchen. Grill parts were on the computer, in the next room, on a lamp, and you name it.

The house looked like a war zone. I think some of the parts ended up on the roof and in the neighbor’s yard.

The box was finally empty at 3:10. His 10 minutes were up and he hadn’t even started yet to put the thing together.

Then he said, “Okay, where’s the screwdriver?”

We looked around for five minutes; turns out he was sitting on it. Not a good beginning.

Then we looked for the owner’s manual, which was found under the couch; it took another five minutes for him to read it.

Then he picked up two long metal things, which I guessed were part of the stand. He put a screw in one end, picked it up, and knocked over my glass of orange juice which went flying all over my Barry Bonds bobblehead.

After we cleaned off the table, he turned the legs part upside down and put in some more screws. Then he leaned back and knocked over his glass of Dr. Pepper. Soda and ice were all over the carpet. It took another five minutes to clean it up.

A half hour in, and so far we had one spilled orange juice, one spilled Dr. Pepper, one wet computer, and one band-aid he thought he needed for his finger that got stuck in the pliers. There also were a few profanities uttered.

Eventually Bobby proudly turned the stand over and said, “There ya go! The stand’s done.”

I looked at it. Now I’m not an expert on this kind of project, but I said, “Uh, that only has three legs. Shouldn’t there be four of them?” He said he wasn’t done yet. Ten minutes later, he had the fourth one on.

At 4 o’clock, one hour from the start, the carpet was still drying and we had the stand looking pretty good. But he looked at it and looked some more and said, “Uh, we got a little problem here. We only got one wheel on it, but the picture on the box shows two.”

We found the other wheel in the kitchen. At 4:15, he broke the screwdriver. Luckily we had another one.

At 4:25, he lost the pliers. They ended up under the chair.

At 4:30, he said, “What happened to the tool hangers and cotter pins?” (Like I’m supposed to know?) Then we were supposed to have 34 screws but he only counted 32. The other two were under the orange juice glass that fell down.

Then Bobby said, “Okay. It’s time for the next step. I’m gonna take a break.”

I took the owner’s manual and went into the other room. According to my calculations, he was supposed to be on Step 5, which was attaching the rear panel through the side panels and into the legs using two M612 screws.

I looked over and it seemed like he was securing the two sliding air vents with bolts and nuts. I said, “Hey! Do those side panels!”

He yelled, “Don’t worry about it!”

When I came back into the room, he climbed past everything on the floor and started using the computer.

I said, “I bet you’re googling how to make a grill.”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m gonna play some rap music for motivation.”

Wonderful.

Then he got back up, picked up the stand which was still upside down and knocked over my Bob Uecker talking alarm clock, which landed on the keyboard.

At 4:45, I looked at the stand and said, “Uh, you got another problem.”

“What now?” He snapped at me.

I pointed out that one side of the stand was about four inches lower than the other. But he had an answer. He explained, “That’s for them wheels to go in there.” Whew!!

At 5:00, Bobby yelled: “What the hell is this?? Where’s the rear panel?”

“How the hell should I know?” I replied.

We looked around for five minutes; turns out I was sitting on it.

At 5:15, Bobby had me pick up all the plastic wrappers, get the fan out of the way, and move the fake Christmas tree.

At 5:30, only two hours and 20 minutes behind schedule, Bobby thought the project might be done.

“I’m not an expert on this, but is this the place where the charcoal goes?” I asked, pointing. He said yes.

“Well,” I continued, “I think it should probably go under the rack that you put the food on. I think you got it upside down.”

He gave me a stern glare and snapped at me: “I know it’s upside down — I ain’t done yet!”

I walked out the door and strolled around the block. It was 6:00 when I got back. Bobby was playing rap.

The grill was in the corner, and it looked great; he did it.

We ordered a pizza to go.