“Just as wisdom forms the foundation of our being,
so too does stone uphold the pillars of temples.”
— Tlacotli: The Primordial Words of Centeotl.
Up until the very last moment, the new machine wandered from one workbench to another. First, it resided in the garage, where the metalwork and general assembly took place. Later, when the machine gained its physical form and it was time to give it a brain, it was moved to the study for the subsequent electronics setup. However, it was clear that, sooner or later, this new tool would need a permanent home of its own.
There’s nothing worse than a complex tool, wandering aimlessly from one table to another, getting in the way everywhere. Inevitably, it starts accumulating damage, gathering dust, and losing its functionality. Heaven knows, this machine had already tread that path during its journey.
From the very beginning of the project, I had been considering where the machine should go. Even the roughest initial plan explicitly accounted for this.
The study — my “electronics” workshop area — was certainly not the right place for it. At one point, I entertained the idea of concentrating all compact robots there. But I quickly realized the deep flaw in that plan as soon as the machine let out its first test “whirrrr…”
And it had barely cut anything — just a couple of simple patterns on a tiny piece of aluminum.
Chips were everywhere! The assembly table where the machine was building its “brain,” the floor around it, the chair I was sitting in, even the keyboard on the opposite side of the room. The cat under the table? Fine, whatever. But even the dog ended up covered in chips — and he was sleeping in an entirely different room!
In terms of generating mess, it turned out the only real competition for this machine is ChatGPT — or my woodworking CNC router when it’s carving through MDF panels. At least with the latter, the dust that sprays out in fountains can be vacuumed up mid-air. Aluminum chips, however, are a whole different story.
Unfortunately, this machine is far from “home-friendly” — unlike, say, a 3D printer. No matter how harmless this little troublemaker might look, its rightful place is strictly in the “dirty” section of the workshop, located in the garage.
Currently, the garage is undergoing a slow-burning project under the code name “The Final Workshop.” It’s in the midst of yet another stage of reconstruction, factoring in over a decade of experience using it as a home workshop. Right now, it’s a scene of horror straight out of the depths of the underworld, with chthonic creatures lurking in the corners. Progress is being made, but very, very slowly. This whole process will, someday, deserve its own series of articles.
For the purpose of this project, however, the key takeaway is that, under the new paradigm of workspace organization in the garage, the machine must have its own dedicated mobile cabinet. It should not rely on the availability of workbench space or be tied to any specific location within the workshop.
The desired stand for the machine needed to meet several key criteria. As is often the case, some of these requirements were contradictory. That’s normal — it turns a simple undertaking into an exciting adventure in finding compromises.
Here are the requirements for the machine stand in the garage workshop:
- It must be cheap. Maximum use of scrap materials from the stash is required. By this point, 99% of the budget allocated to the project had already been devoured by the machine itself, so there wasn’t much room for extravagance. Sadly, we live in the harsh world of capitalism.
- It must be simple. Functionality over aesthetics. This isn’t the place for woodworking masterpieces with flourishes and polished wood finishes.
- It must be mobile, but also capable of being securely fixed in place during operation.
- It must be sturdy and heavy. The stand will need to absorb vibrations, dampen movement, and sometimes help level out imbalances.
- It must be tall. The machine’s worktable should be positioned just below chest height. I’m not as young as I used to be to be hunched over, trying to position something with a micrometer on a standard table height.
- It must be compact. Space is reserved only for the machine and nothing else. This isn’t a general-purpose workbench but a highly specialized stand for one specific tool.
- It must be enclosed. No open areas that could collect chips, dust, or other debris.
- It must be functional. Not just a tabletop with legs. Although there won’t be much room, what’s available must be fully utilized. In the workshop, every cubic inch of space counts.
- It must be attractive. It doesn’t need to be a replica of a cabinet from the Amber Room — after all, it’s garage furniture. However, a lot of effort and time went into the machine, and I think it turned out quite well. The stand should complement it as much as possible.
Given these requirements, the following stand design was created:
Key Features:
- Overall height: 42 inches. A beautiful number. With the machine’s work surface height factored in, the top lands precisely where it needs to be.
- A shelf with a door under the machine for the controller.
- Three pull-out drawers for tools and accessories related to the machine. Things like spindle collets, bits, specialized wrenches, micrometers, clamps, consumables, and so on. But only items needed for the machine! No random sets of screwdrivers for every occasion.
- Perimeter pegboards for additional attachments. If something critical for the machine can’t fit in the drawers for some reason, it can go here. If nothing like that comes up, the pegboards can stay empty. No problem for them.
- Lift casters for mobility. In its working position, the stand sits firmly on the ground, solid as a rock. But with the press of a pedal, the wheels lower, lifting the stand off the ground, and it can roll wherever needed.
For the primary material, construction-grade “two-by-four” lumber was chosen. Since the stand was intended to be painted from the start, the natural wood grain’s beauty was irrelevant.
The frame’s design is as simple as a cannon carriage. First and foremost, it was built to be sturdy, not pretty or elegant:
For the most part, offcuts from previous projects were used, though a couple of new pieces had to be purchased. Everything was cut down to the required sizes:
The frame components were joined using pocket screws and glue.
To further reinforce the frame, structural steel brackets were added. These are the kinds of brackets specifically designed for connecting lumber:
They come in all shapes, sizes, and styles to accommodate various types of lumber connections. The strength of such joints is evidenced by the fact that these “fasteners” are used in framing houses, often without additional glue or pocket screws.
To fully address the need for reinforcement, all the internal corners of the stand were further strengthened with gussets.
Fun fact: I’d never thought about it before, but the English word “gusset,” used for this type of structural element, also refers to the triangular section of women’s underwear. Who knew? Apparently, Google did! And now my browser screen is filled with images of panties. To be fair, some of them feature rather lovely models… Hmm.
Anyway, the stand came out rock solid:
I should confess here that this isn’t the first stand of this kind that I’ve built for my “final workshop.” This design has already been tested, optimized, battle-hardened, and deemed more than fit for purpose. So for this project, everything was done along a well-trodden path.
Next came the inevitable sanding stage:
If you paint construction lumber as-is, the result will be… well, equally “as-is.” It doesn’t matter what paint you use. However, if you take your time with a sander, thoroughly working over the assembled frame, everything changes quite dramatically. It may even begin to show some faint signs of real furniture… Well, maybe not. But it will certainly look a bit better and greatly reduce the chances of getting splinters later on.
When it comes to painting furniture like this, I’ve long trusted and thoroughly tested BEHR enamel:
It’s pricey — the quart in the photo above costs just over $30. For comparison, you could get an entire gallon of regular paint for the same amount. But it’s worth every penny! This enamel is practically indestructible.
One of my tool cabinets was painted with the same enamel and has survived in the garage for over two years. It endured the chaos of the workshop’s previous iteration, and it’s holding up just as well during the current “reconstruction.” It’s been beaten with all sorts of tools, showered with grinder dust and sawdust from the circular saw, wiped down with rags, scrubbed with brushes, and even accidentally soaked in rain once. Nothing fazes it! It still looks like it was freshly painted. A couple of dents from when I accidentally dropped a metal pipe on it, but that’s it. So, when it comes to garage furniture, my only decision is the color. I grab the enamel base right off the shelf without hesitation — it works perfectly for me.
For the stand, I chose the exact same colors as the machine itself:
The base color of the machine, according to Krylon spray paint terminology, was called “Matte Glacier Gray.” The goal was to find an exact match for enamel in a different brand with its own color naming conventions.
I could have taken a small part of the machine to the store, where they’d scan it and automatically match the color for enamel. But I didn’t feel like unscrewing anything from the machine. Instead, I grabbed a pile of paper swatches from their display, took them home, and matched the shade manually. Then, back at the store, I confidently asked, “Bartender! A quart of Chain Reaction, please!”
The match turned out nearly perfect:
After painting, the stand was equipped with retractable casters:
When the pedals are disengaged, the stand rests firmly on the floor with its entire base, while the wheels hang loosely on the sides:
When the pedals are engaged, the wheels lift the stand off the floor, allowing it to roll freely:
The advantages of this setup are obvious. The downside? A very small ground clearance:
For me, that’s sufficient since the stand never leaves the smooth floor of the garage. However, if you’re considering using these casters, keep this in mind. If you plan to roll furniture over thresholds, lawns, gravel, or steps, these casters are completely unsuitable.
No, you can’t just “mount the wheels lower.” The levers wouldn’t have enough range to let the stand rest on its base with the pedals disengaged. These casters come with a special template for marking the mounting holes at the exact correct height. Anything higher or lower simply won’t work.
There’s another drawback. The wheels, dangling off the sides of the stand, are a potential tripping hazard. It’s all too easy to get lost in thought, stumble over them, and take a spill — bright paint color or not. That said, I typically work in proper footwear in the garage, and I’ve trained myself to watch where I’m stepping as I dash between workbenches in a creative frenzy. So, while this drawback is annoying, it’s not a dealbreaker for me. Still, it’s worth mentioning.
In my particular case, the benefits of these retractable casters far outweigh the downsides. Overall, I can recommend them to anyone who doesn’t need to roll heavy stands over uneven terrain. They’re relatively inexpensive, come in various sizes and load capacities, and can be found on any Amazon or eBay. Search for terms like “workbench casters,” “retractable casters,” or “stepdown casters” — or better yet, use all of them together.
For the tabletop and the shelf beneath the controller, I dug out the last remaining piece of ¾-inch MDF from my stash. Based on my calculations, it should have been just enough for the tabletop, shelf, and drawer fronts. But the dimensions left zero room for error. Everything had to fit down to the last inch. Otherwise, I’d have to buy a new sheet.
I decided not to paint the tabletop. No matter how much praise I’ve sung about the paint earlier, it’s obvious even to a hedgehog that it’s not suitable for a workbench surface that will be subjected to constant and intentional abuse from the machine, metal chips, sharp tools, and so on. Better to leave it unpainted than to end up with a sad, worn-out look after just a couple of weeks of use.
For something like this, the only real options are coating it with epoxy or covering it with thick stainless steel (the ideal solution). If I ever decide to go down that route, it’ll be for all the workshop furniture, not just this one stand. For now, I’m still thinking it over…
Then it was time to tackle the drawers.
For them, I pulled out pieces of construction-grade plywood that had been sitting in my stash since the house roof repair project. Based on the date of that project (February 2016) and this article (May 2023), you can get an idea of just how deep my stash runs and how long materials can linger there…
This was incredibly rough roofing plywood. It’s the kind of material you wouldn’t dare bring near anything resembling furniture! But, first, garage furniture operates under slightly different physical and aesthetic laws. And second, these plywood scraps had been annoying me in my stash for far too long.
Literally annoying — to the point of bloodshed. After the rough cuts (I can’t even remember what tools the roofers used to hack at it — maybe their teeth), the edges of the sheets were left with massive splinters and jagged shards. I can’t count how many of those ended up embedded in my fingers and palms. Awful material for storage. It was time to finally put it to use and be rid of it.
The drawer design was as simple as it gets: four sides with 45-degree corner cuts and grooves for the bottom. The bottoms were made from hardboard, also pulled from the stash. Assembly was done entirely with Titebond III, commonly known as “wood glue weld.”
Again, these weren’t the first drawers I’d put together in the garage using such primitive techniques. Time has proven them strong enough for general use (i.e., not for storing gold bars, uranium rods, or cast iron anvils). So far, not a single drawer of this type has fallen apart or lost its bottom during use. The key is to be generous with the glue — pour it liberally along all edges and joints.
Of course, after the glue dried, the drawers required a lengthy and intimate session with the sander. Once smoothed, they were painted on the outside with the same enamel used for the stand’s frame:
The insides, however, remained unpainted. There was a reason for that… The paint was almost gone. I barely had enough left for the future front panels, and even then, just a few drops. As mentioned earlier, the paint is expensive. And it doesn’t come in containers smaller than a quart. Buying a whole quart just for the insides of three drawers seemed excessive. What would I do with the leftovers? It would dry out long before I’d need it again. Potentially wasted money. So, the decision was made to leave the insides as they were.
In fact, I have a plan brewing for organizing the insides of drawers, not just these, but all the drawers across my workshop — in workbenches, cabinets, everywhere. If the idea pans out, the appearance of the interior won’t matter at all. If it doesn’t… well, I’ll buy a gallon of enamel in some “universal” color and paint all the drawers at once.
The drawers were mounted into the stand using high-quality ball-bearing slides with a “soft-close” mechanism:
The “soft-close” feature ensures that, within the last few inches, the drawer is automatically pulled shut by the mechanism.
This soft-close also acts as a damper. In a workshop setting, drawers are often closed with an elbow, a knee, a head, or even your backside — because your hands are usually busy with something else. The force applied in such cases isn’t always easy to control. The soft-close mechanism ensures the drawer not only fully closes but stays closed. This prevents it from sticking out awkwardly, waiting to trip you or spill its contents all over the floor under a deafening crash.
It was time to bring the stand to a more aesthetically pleasing state.
This process involved fitting all the drawers with front panels, painted to match the machine’s color scheme:
I still had just enough of the gray base enamel left, having carefully saved the last drops for this purpose. And since building the machine, I’d had half a can of cheerful light blue spray paint lying around. First, all the drawer fronts were painted with the gray enamel, and then two of them received a couple of light coats of the blue spray paint — just enough to do the job.
The front panel of the bottom drawer is slightly different from the others. Besides being larger, it required these cutouts on the back:
These were needed to accommodate the structural brackets used to join the frame’s lumber:
Without the cutouts, the drawer obviously wouldn’t close fully. A gap would remain, allowing debris to collect. With the cutouts, the drawer closes snugly and flush.
The final touch was adding handles, 3D-printed for the project:
Done:
Speaking of the durability of the drawers, the bottom one now comfortably houses my stash of “crafting” aluminum stock:
However, with the arrival of the machine specifically for working with aluminum, I suspect this stash will start to slim down much faster than before, and the drawer may soon take on a different purpose.
Granted, it’s not cast iron, but still… Even under the weight of all that aluminum, the bottom isn’t sagging. While it’s made of hardboard, the way it’s “stretched” within the grooves of the walls and glued along the entire perimeter leaves no room for it to flex.
The perimeter of the stand was designed to be covered with pegboards.
First of all, I already had some in my stash. Secondly, a workshop can never have too much of two things: clamps and pegboards. Extra surface area for hanging anything and everything is always useful. If every workbench, cabinet, and wall in the workshop is equipped with pegboards, it allows for efficient use of the entire cubic volume of the space, not just the square footage of the floor.
In addition, pegboard is an inexpensive and readily available material for cladding garage furniture. After all, it’s essentially just hardboard with holes. Nothing prevents you from using it as external panels for a stand:
Since the equipment attached to any pegboard is highly situational and evolves over years, the sides of the machine’s stand are still pristine for now. Over time, it will become clear what and how to place on them.
That said, a couple of features have already found their way onto the pegboard. These are directly related to the machine: a cable channel for the control box wiring and hooks for coiling the power cord:
And there’s more to come…
As seen in the photos, the shelf holding the control box in the stand remained open until the very last moment:
This blatantly violated one of the original project requirements for the stand.
The problem was that when cutting the single piece of MDF for the tabletop, shelf, and drawer fronts, I completely forgot about the door for the control box shelf. I was even celebrating that the MDF sheet had been used up perfectly, inch for inch. Yeah, right… Turns out, there wasn’t enough.
Once again, as with the paint, I faced a situation where I’d have to drag myself to the store to buy an entire sheet for a tiny piece. Inevitably, 90% of that sheet would end up in the stash — the same stash I’m trying desperately to declutter, not expand.
After searching the house top to bottom (including the stashes of my wife, the Cat, and the Dog), I finally found a piece of paneling. It came from a shelf in the ammo cabinet, which I replaced with a couple of regular boards without sacrificing much in terms of aesthetics. In return, I got the panel I needed for the control box shelf door:
In general, I find the “build one thing, break another” philosophy deeply flawed. But sometimes you can convince yourself it’s a reasonable compromise, given the alternatives… and it still feels wrong.
The resulting control shelf door is removable. I tried every possible configuration in the design phase: a door that opens sideways, flips down like a shelf, or lifts up like an extension of the tabletop. None of them were convenient. A fully removable option turned out to be the best.
Four 3D-printed mounts inside the compartment and simple hook-like features on the panel itself work surprisingly well. The door can be removed with a single smooth motion — just lift it by the handle:
One of the side pegboards on the stand holds another set of identical mounts. This way, the removed panel doesn’t clutter the floor but can just as easily be hung on the side of the stand, out of the way:
As the saying goes, both the dogs are fed, and the cats are safe.
With the machine now placed in its rightful, purpose-built spot, the project can finally be considered complete:
Over time, there will undoubtedly be modifications — both to the machine itself and to its stand. But exactly what those changes will be is something only time will reveal.
On the practical side of using the machine… It might sound funny, but as of today, this machine has made exactly zero parts for me personally. Somehow, it always ends up working for my friends instead.
For example, one friend asked me to make aluminum air shutters for his airplane. Yes, he’s building an airplane in his garage. Or rather, he’s already built it. These shutters were one of the final touches to his project:
Another friend needed a new mount for a sensor that measures vehicle speed through air flow. Don’t ask… I had to cut a new mount because the holes on the old one didn’t align with where they needed to be:
Then he needed some oddly shaped openings with “steps” for the rear panel of yet another tube amplifier he was working on. We cut those too:
And countless other small things — inserts, spacers, supports, panels…
As my grandfather used to say, “If it fits on the machine’s worktable, it’s useful.”
I’m not complaining. Every machine has its quirks that need to be understood and accounted for during operation. All these orders from friends allow me to get familiar with these nuances on “guinea pigs” — at their expense.
That said, I do have my own plans for this machine. However, they’re a bit too ambitious at the moment and are still in the planning and development stage. By the time I get around to them, I’ll have enough experience to minimize the number of mistakes — and wasted material — on my own projects.
But for now, that’s about it for this topic…