I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous. This way I could kiss the Glove Problem goodbye.
The first underpinning of the Problem is that I like my right hand, my hammer hand, in supple leather that fits like a glove. If I can't get a solid grip, my five-pound Uri Hofi hammer whips itself from my fingers and sails across the garage like a cannonball.
Generally, this never ends well.
The second underpinning of the problem is that I like my left hand in a chubby flame-retardant gauntlet, given that it often finds itself in, on, or about some really hot ass fire.
So here you have it. The Problem, as depicted below. One pair of hammer-handers. Left hand - good as new. Right hand - seen better days. Two pairs of fire-handers. Left hand - seen better days. Right hand- good as new.
Same exact point depicted below, enmass:
I've been scoping around for a lefty smithie over at the swapmeet.
I really took a shine to these new-fangled Kevlar IronClad numbers M&D got me for Christmas. Good grip, good fit. Thumbs up. I think I'm due for a new pair.
A hole is a good sign that something happened that's gonna leave a mark. I plan to let my fingerprints grow back, just to be safe.
A person needs a goodly quantity of handwear because if you dangle your grubbies inside the forge too long, your gloves heat up like convection ovens and things get crispy inside. The discomfort level ramps up from mild to a real sizzler, which is when you have to wrench off the steaming glove and throw it out on the driveway to cool off. After that, you need a fresh, sweetly cool glove at the ready. I go through about a glove an hour.
Check out my rad pile of safety gear.