The brass plate from this plaque rattled down the basement stairs(*) a while ago:
As you might expect, the adhesive failed and has been replaced at least once. This time, I drilled a pair of 2-56 clearance holes in the plate, match-marked the wood with a punch, drilled a pair of tapping holes, and put it all back together.
There’s not much to see, but I’m pretty sure that plate won’t fall off ever again:
The lacquer finish has begun disintegrating, but I wasn’t in the mood to strip-and-restore that. The tile remains firmly affixed; when that falls out, it won’t be pretty.
The LAW long ago morphed into the League of American Bicyclists, after deeming Wheelmen as too gender-specific for the modern era.
(*) We hang plaques, certificates, diplomas, and suchlike on the walls beside the basement stairs. Every time we pass by, it’s an Ego Trip…
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 