When cleaning out my late father's place, one of the things I did to process the end of his independence was restore a bunch of the hand tools he'd used most of his working life. I looked forward to the ones I remembered from summers working on his job sites.
This was not one of those, nor was it complex. But it was one of the first, and I let myself go pointlessly overboard (it was fall 2020, you might remember the feeling; there were a few things going on.) It's just a pipe wrench (he did fancy kitchen and bathroom remodels, understandable he'd have one.) When I found it it was rusty and half-seized. Got it apart, wire-wheeled it down to clean metal, masked it, primed and repainted it, etc.
It was a good mourning-the-everything evening project.