How Not to Ship a Sewing Machine

This is my face today. I finally received a vintage industrial Necchi machine. A glorious 835-461. This is it’s state prior to shipping:

After being shipped from California to Missouri (for which the seller asked for more money for after the listing was over, which is peevish, though I have done this before when it seemed legit and I was happy with the packing they did) THIS is what I received:

Broken stitch length selector knob, snapped off thread guide and completely busted metal thread-guide-y-mystery piece. I can’t even find info on this model, let alone replacements for those parts. I am NOT happy.

This is why you don’t ship 48lb vintage sewing machines in a single cardboard box surrounded by crumbled newspaper and a single layer of small bubblewrap.

What a f*cking waste.

For the record, the absolute best sewing machine packing job I have ever seen in my life was done by the ebay seller volksbug (here). He bubble wrapped every individual part possible, plastic wrapped everything securely in place, wrapped the machine itself securely in multiple layers of bubble wrap and foam, wrapped the speed control separately and secured it in place, put manuals and extras in bags and bubble wrapped and secured those, and placed all of this in a cardboard box so that it fit snugly and any empty space was filled with packing material. Then he placed this box within a larger cardboard box and filled the 3″ between the boxes with some kind of foam that hardens into firm but somewhat spongey consistency that absorbs shock perfectly during transit.

If only more sellers wrapped their wares so well. I’ve had packing peanuts jammed so far into the innards of machines I may never be able to get them out, many thread uptake levers broken off, thread tension loops broken or flattened, bobbin tire assemblies snapped in two, wooden cases and locks demolished from packing the machine locked in its case.

It’s a particular kind of heartbreak when it’s a rare antique that you just know you’ll never be able to fix or replace, but it’s more than that–it’s the loss of a piece of fine industrial craftsmanship from the world.

Excuse me while I go faceplant into some ice cream or something and mourn.