Despite the quaintness of Maple Valley defined by the expectations of outsiders. we are just like everyone else. People who slowly drift along our streets say things like, “Oh, isn’t that cute? That would look great in our house, but it wouldn’t be the same. I just love it here. I don’t wanna go home.” They don’t believe real life happens in Maple Valley.

Such is the case with Brindel’s Hardware, a fixture in Maple Valley since 1867. Faded lettering on the window reads, “Brindel’s Hardware – For Things You Want and Might Need.” Archimax Brindel’s great-great grandfather, Herschel, painted the sign himself.

Herschel Brindel had quite a reputation among the old-timers of Maple Valley. He was one of the village founders and quickly established himself as a scoundrel in business and among the ladies. There was talk of him carrying on with Gladenia Wickers, wife of the first reverend of Maple Valley Church. She wore long black dresses that swept the floor. Sleeves tight at the wrist, collars snug at the chin. It’s hard to imagine how anything happened, if it did. Tourists love stories like this. Old guys sit on porches and talk to anyone who will stop long enough to listen. It’s been a long time since I sat on the porch with them, not that I don’t want to.

The hardware is a natural museum. Archimax Brindel, “Archie” to his friends, has a 10 cent soda machine just inside the front door. Folks are welcome to stop in an grab a root beer from the cooler. Even though the store is old and cluttered, it’s funny how Archie knows exactly where everything is. When a costumer asks for an item, Archie walks right to it. It might be buried under dusty things no one has touched for years, but he never fails.

Visitors open rusty screen doors and hear the sound of creaky wood floors. A noticeable scent of paint thinner, oily rags, peat moss, and a hint of cow manure greets them.

Folks love to look at all the treasures. Tools, oil cans, posters, fishing poles, and bait boxes. A big barrel of faded yard sticks (Archie calls them “whippin’ sticks”), sits by the front counter. Mouse traps, tattered books and newspapers, baseball cards, and slings shots sit on the glass. So many things no one uses anymore, but Archie keeps them. Nestled behind the vintage cash register is Archie’s worn leather rocking chair. He enjoys a ringside seat for everything.

Patrons are welcome to use the bathroom, but few do. It is small and dark with just a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The white toilet has a black seat so worn much of the color is gone. Stains in the sink are mostly from the constantly dripping faucet. Few black and white floor tiles remain.

Antique tools in the back room sit where Archie’s grandfather left them. Rolls of wire hang from a long pipe, their tangled ends rest on the floor. Three dusty grease guns hang from a shelf, each having left a plop on the floor. In the corner is a pile of things that meant something to someone at some time.

Three small motors in various stages of repair, or disrepair, wait on the workbench. Parts are scattered across the table with screwdrivers, pliers, and wrenches stirred in with them.

Newspapers and a calendar from 1943 on the wall are discolored with age. Headlines, “D-Day Means Victory!”, “FDR Dies in Office!” and, “JFK Shot Dead in Dallas!” continue to shout. Visitors often take photos of the work room.

In front of Brindel’s Hardware, four wooden rockers sit motionless. Archie likes to rock during the warm months and visit with people. They mostly talk about the weather, or fishing, and sometimes about baseball.

Brindel’s Hardware is closing. Riding into Maple Valley on The Old General will somehow never be the same.