Hammering Home a Lesson : Women’s ‘Tool Time’ class proves instructional and results in a victorious visit to the hardware store.

It was Saturday. I was late. Had been all morning. My hair dryer was on the fritz. Again. I’ve kept that thing alive for 14 years. I’ve never changed a tire or for that matter a coffee filter, but with a screwdriver and needle-nose tweezers I have repeatedly resuscitated my Clairol Son of a Gun.

So it was somehow appropriate that I was headed for the “Home Improvement: Tool Time for Women Only” class at Learning Tree University.

I am an idiot when it comes to home repairs. And I’m an idiot with an attitude.

When faced with repairmen and hardware salesmen--yes men --I tend to get a chip on my shoulder.

Just because I’m a woman, they act as if I am unable to comprehend what they’re talking about. The fact is, I’m unable to comprehend what they’re talking about. And I’m a woman. You want to make something of it?

I peeled out of my driveway at 9:40 a.m. with 12 jumbo rollers biting into my skull. Freeway traffic was light. Sky blue. Road smooth. Then some pea-brained muscle-head in a red car revved it and slid alongside. Wrong day, buddy. Wrong dame.

I put the pedal to the floor. Zoom. But he wasn’t giving up. You’re asking to lose a lung, buddy. Rip! Rip! (Those Velcro rollers really hurt coming out.)

He pulled alongside again, mouthing words. “Yoooouuuurrr trrrruuuunnnk’s oooooopen.”

Quick stop, and I was off. Fifteen minutes later, I careened into the parking lot of Learning Tree, a boulder the size of Mount St. Helens on my shoulder.

And what was behind door No. 13? It just figured. The teacher of the “Tool Time for Women Only” class was a man: “Hi, we’ve been looking for you.”

How DARE he take that tone with me!

Duraka Weinert told us little bit about himself. He’s had plenty of experience in building and contracting. And on the side he builds Zen temples. Weinert was about as threatening as apple pie.

We female students, nine of us in our 30s to 50s, had come equipped with goals, problems in need of fixing. Nasty crack here. Fist-sized hole there. The quest for a really darling window treatment. Actually that was mine.

But I had a loftier goal. I wanted to hold my own at the hardware store. I wanted to talk the talk with those repair guys: “Ahhhh, leaking from the circular pipe main. I’ve seen that before. Heh heh heh.”

But as I was pondering my goals, the other eight women in class were learning something.

Some of it I got.

You shouldn’t let your measuring tape slam shut--despite that satisfying thwack! sound. It knocks the rivets askew.

*

The P trap is the section of pipe below the sink with the U-shaped dip. It halts creeping sewer stench. One woman admitted: “I always thought that was so your ring would stop.”

As the class got rolling, there were eager faces and intelligent questions, none of which were asked by me. Periodically, my eyes glazed over and information floated into and out of my brain: Your drier should have a petcock . . . This is a flange . . . Don’t put your push points on the window corners . . . And the statement “80 is the standard grit for drywall sanding” triggered an annoying deja vu.

But I zeroed in on information I could use. By the end of class, I had projects in mind and a list: tung oil, poly-seam seal, 1 1/2-inch putty knife, three-way lamp head, three-inch yellow zinc Phillips head screws.

Next stop: the hardware store.

But on the way there, my sense of my own incompetence ballooned, prompting a Clint Eastwood attitude. Make my day, you high-handed hardware bozos.

I scanned the shelves crammed with gadgets and widgets and who-knows-whatsits and found all but one item. I asked for help to locate my screws.

“We don’t carry those. Here,” the guy handed me some screws, “these are all you’ll need.”

“But these aren’t YELLOW.”

He face took on a blank expression. “These are all you’ll need,” he said softly and walked to the counter. I followed.

I stared at the screws in silence as he rang up my purchases and took my credit card.

Their round little heads stared back. “These aren’t Phillips head!”

“Hmmmm,” he handed me my receipt. “We have some flat-head.”

Flat head? I gave him a surely-you’re-kidding smile. “I know. You’re right,” he said looking up. Our eyes locked. We smiled at each other. He had acknowledged me. I wasn’t just shopping for my husband.

Perhaps, his eyes said, you don’t even have a husband.

I made him credit my Visa for 45 cents.

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WHERE AND WHEN

What: “Home Improvement: Tool Time for Women Only.”

Location: Learning Tree University, 20920 Knapp St., Chatsworth.

Hours: 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. July 22.

Price: $65.

Call: (818) 882-5599.