In the dim corner of the weathered carpenter's shop, an ancient milling machine stood frozen in time. This Soviet relic, nearly a century old, had not seen use in years. Layers of dust veiled its metallic frame, coupled with small pieces of wood from various projects helped transforming it into a totem of the past.

Once a symbol of precision and craftsmanship, the machine's dull, chipped paint and faded insignia whispered stories of yesteryears. Cobwebs adorned its handles, as if time itself had woven a tapestry of neglect around it.

Amidst the scent of aged wood and nostalgia, the old milling machine, a silent guardian of the carpenter's legacy, waited patiently for a new hand to revive its enduring spirit.

My mission for that day was to assist mr. Nimu Dorin in the making of a big table at my father's request. The table was rather simple in design, a 180x0.9m working surface sustained by a frame of square wood legs and reinforced by some wooden shutters in the low area that later served as rack space. Prior to this day I was to make sketches of the main wooden frame and fittings.

 
As an architecture student I did them in axonometry view and gave them to the old carpenter as guide. He appreciated my effort and skill for no more than 10 to 30 mins as he already understood the concept and the drawings were left among piles of wood. 

To use a quote from my favorite movies Dorin Nimu, tho in his seventy's "he's a man of focus... commitment and sheer -- will ". 

He is a former teacher of economics and other economical activity at Tehnical University of Cluj Napoca. 

In his younger years he worked at the national train agency as a heavy operator and rail inspector and now since he's retirement he took on the craft of woodworking (and became a respected carpenter) as a refuge from his crippling depression of wich he suffers from at least 20 years. 

He transformed his backyard storage house in a well equipped workshop -as to be seen in the photos- and to this day he makes literal art pieces for every furniture job and his prices are proportional to the quality and time spent. 

He is a man with vast knowledge in various domains such as arts, history, economics, architecture, engineering, chemistry, and hand crafting techniques and material tehnology.

He is a vicious smoker, smoking up to 3 packs a day. Has personality of a gentleman and a worker combined, a vast vocabulary and catch frases he repeats constantly such as "peace and at the station" or "such a shame in being stupid" or "in which book can I find this information?" or "tell a lie, tell a story and the time flies". 

He has a young nephew that comes to visit once in a while and thought him basic skills on crafting and tools, basic electric engineering stuff, and various historical events and concepts wrapped around a nice story. 

On the worn surface of an old workbench, a masterpiece of craftsmanship sat quietly—a horizontal saw blade machine meticulously crafted and assembled by skilled hands. Though unassuming in appearance, its precision was nothing short of remarkable.

A single screw mount, weathered by time and countless adjustments, was the heart of this mechanical marvel. With the gentle turn of a hand, it could guide the blade with unparalleled accuracy, enabling cuts precise to within tens of millimeters, and even finer units. Each revolution of the screw was a testament to the artisan's expertise, transforming rough wood into flawless works of art.

This humble machine, though modest in its demeanor, embodied the essence of precision, standing as a tribute to the artistry of its creator. In its presence, the world of woodworking became a realm of infinite possibilities, all finely tuned with the twist of a screw, revealing the beauty that lay hidden within the grain of timber.

Dorin Nimu's workshop was a fascinating blend of past and present, where the echoes of history reverberated through every corner. The first thing to stumble upon entering the shop was a vertical saw blade machine, a resilient survivor crafted from the remnants of the old Soviet factory's electric engine where it once served as part of a larger, industrial behemoth. Right in front of the machine stood a Dürkopp Adler sewing machine bench and frame now used as a workbench. This relic, while captivating, was just one piece of the larger puzzle that defined Nimu's workspace.

Salvaged machines, parts, and tools from the collapse of the local wood factory during the Communist regime filled the workshop. They bore the scars of an era long gone, their faded logos and chipped paint telling stories of industrial might. Alongside these relics of yesteryears were gleaming modern power tools and finely-crafted hand tools, symbols of progress and innovation.

In this workshop, the past and present coexisted harmoniously, each tool and machine a bridge between generations of craftsmanship. Nimu's space embodied the essence of adaptation, where the old and new seamlessly merged, allowing timeless skills to flourish amid the evolving tide of technology.

Here in a corner near the entrance on a shell of an old massive machine panel metal case I found an innocent looking "fine mechanism oil" bottle that caught my attention  due to the white color and vintage label and I remembered my grandpa has one in the exact same manner that he uses to oil up door hinges. but this one was used to lubricate the fine gears of the various machines around the shop.

Tucked away amidst stacks of wood, in the very back of the shop an old horizontal wooden grinding machine lay dormant, its once mighty presence overshadowed by a modern more capable counterpart that stood proudly in front of it. The relic had remained untouched for years, its powerful 2-meter-long grinding belt now a muted reminder of its former glory. Though eclipsed by its modern successor, the old machine retained an aura of nostalgia and untapped potential, patiently waiting for a chance to prove its enduring worth amid the chorus of power and noise.