My grandmother never once called a repairman.
Up in the holler, you didn't run to the store every time something pinched. You knew things — how to keep a cabin warm on three dollars of supplies, how to put up a year of meat with no electricity, how to fix what most folks today just throw away.
That knowledge wasn't written down. It was passed across the kitchen table. And as the old folks passed on, most of it went with them — replaced by monthly bills and things that break on purpose.
I spent years writing down what my people knew before it was gone for good. It's all here, plain enough for anybody to use.