Frolic in the Standing Seams; Buying a Metal Roof for a Tiny House

I did a lot of research when I started thinking about the tiny house roof. Immediately I could see it would be one of my bigger expenses and a huge influence on the ultimate aesthetic of the house. Conventional affordable roofing options like asphalt shingles offered no advantages in appearance, durability, wind resistance (for towing), or recyclability. It was clear that metal was the best option in meeting each of these priorities. Time to dive into the world of metal roofing research!

Metal panels are measured in gauges, and just like wire, the lower the gauge number, the thicker the metal. Galvanized corrugated 29 gauge steel roofing panels, like these at Cox Hardware and Lumber can be had for $7 or $8 per panel, but 26 gauge steel standing seam panels from Metal Sales Manufacturing coated in CoolRoof colorfast paint keep the house cooler in summer, reduce the heat island effect, and are more leak resistant, weather proof, wind proof, long lasting, and - to me - attractive.

There was a lot of information to digest. On the technical spectrum, I delved into coatings and their properties and how they can be engineered to offer better solar reflectance and heat emissivity. I learned a lot about the cool roof concept at the Energy Star Cool Roofs and Emissivity page.

Emissivity Diagram

I also read up on installation issues like oilcanning, explained here by Sheffield Metals International. Apparently the roof panels get torqued slightly as they are installed or as they shift with wood shrinkage and swelling, causing a wavy appearance to the sheets. There are ways to reduce oilcanning, but because it’s caused by several factors, it’s almost always present to some degree under certain conditions in any metal roof. Oilcanning can come from manufacturing stresses or installation stresses like carrying panels unevenly so they bend and ripple, or overtightening fasteners so they strain and warp the panels. It also arises from inevitable physical realities; roof support structures are typically made by hand of wood and it’s not possible for all their surfaces to be 100% perfectly straight, level, and uniform. The metal reps don’t admit this, but from experience I can tell you that the roof components themselves have a measurable (and sometimes significant) amount of variance in their dimensions as well. Then there’s the wide variety of angles at which the sunlight and our sight lines can hit the metal, and the inevitable expansion and contraction in any material under extreme temperatures and weather conditions. All told, it’s impossible to install a metal roof with any flat surfaces in such a way that it will never have the tension on the fasteners that leads to oilcanning.

Blog entries, like this one from the Building Gypsy Rose Blog, offered me an experiential view of what it was like to be a metal roof consumer, and it seemed there were a lot of cautionary tales out there. Every roof story I read came from a screwball construction comedy; wrong parts being delivered, wrong angles or dimensions, metal being delivered in the wrong amounts, parts being delivered damaged, and promised delivery dates being pressed beyond all reason. Therefore I was very cautious about where I would order my roof.

When I looked into sourcing the roof panels, I found out metal roof panels are generally produced on computerized rolling machines and all the companies offered a similar range of products. Differentiation between options is about selecting gauge, seam type, fastener preference, panel texture, and coating properties, then picking an equivalent product from the nearest reliable reseller. In my case, there are only a couple manufacturers close enough to be practical, and each of them supply the same product line to all the different stores all over town. After talking with about every reseller in the area - Home Depot, Lowe’s, Friedman’s, and Meade Clark - I settled on Metal Sales 12” wide 26 gauge standing seam panels from Allied Building Products. All the quotes I got were expensive, but Allied’s price matched the lowest of them, and they were a specialist with an office where I could see the product on their demos roofs outside and then place my order at a desk with an experienced pro who knew the product line inside and out.

The process was a little complicated and it took about a half hour to place my order. I brought our master builder Rand with me because he’s installed metal roofing before, he would be installing this roof, and he has a much better knack for remembering measurements and specs than I do. Although he and I had both tried to anticipate and research all the decisions involved, we still ran into choices we hadn’t thought about and information we didn’t have. For example, I originally picked a flat panel option for the expanses of metal between each standing seam. Later, in discussion with our sales guy John, I discovered that the lightly striated panel reduces the visibility of any potential oil canning. Functionality won out over my slight aesthetic preference for the “cleaner” looking flat panels, and I was convinced to choose striations. In the end the metal roofing order (including panels, edge and peak trim, and specialized fasteners) cost about $1200 and I spent another $200 on sealant, adhesive, and high temperature gooey underlayment film called StormGuard by GAF.

John at Allied promised us the roof would arrive in eight days, and on day eight I got a call. He regrets to inform me that my order got damaged on the delivery truck and he had to refuse the whole thing. I told him after the stories I read about other people's roofing experiences I would have been shocked if the first delivery went off without a hitch! Fortunately he got my order rushed through that week's production line at Metal Sales. My complete and correct order arrived the following Wednesday without incident. No further hijinks! Now that’s its installed, I absolutely love it. I’m glad I did all that research, because I feel confident that in the end all our care has resulted in a roof that will keep the house safe cool and comfortable, maintain a beautiful look for 50 years, remain weatherproof for 100 years, and can be easily recycled at the end of its lifespan.

If you’ve got your mind on a metal roof project of your own, stay tuned for a separate discussion of the standing seam roof installation, coming soon.

Custom Cabinetry; the Process for a Buyer

When I brought a fine cabinet maker into my team on a contract basis to create the custom cabinets for the tiny house, I had no idea what I was in for. Fortunately I was able to hire someone I knew (my brother in law) Keith Pankow, whom I trusted and felt perfectly comfortable with. I let him know what a newb I was without concern or hesitation, and he explained the process to me and gave me the info I needed to make informed decisions. Here’s how the whole splendid adventure unfolded.

First I gave him with a crude scale conceptual drawing. I was acquainted with the tools and conventions of the trade from drafting classes I took in high school and college, which made things a lot easier. Still, it was hard to visualize the true physical size of the spaces I was drawing on paper in a meaningful way.

The spaces were small and I needed to make the most of every inch, so I brainstormed and talked through the design several times with Rand, the builder, before I ever went to paper. I thought about the way I use my kitchen and measured some of my go to items to help me size the cabinets and drawers. The most innovative idea, for drawers in the toe kick area, came from Rand.

Here’s the first scale drawing I made of the face of the kitchen. In the drafting trade these are known as elevation drawings. To the left is the outline of the kitchen sink, projecting down into the cabinet below it. In the middle is the counterhigh refrigerator, followed by a narrow cabinet (perfect for cookie sheets) separating it from the stove and oven. Under the oven are two cabinet doors. I specified (verbally) that this space needed to be spanned without a support member inside so it would be possible to put wider items in it. To the right of the stove is a little more counter space, with two upper drawers and a cabinet below. Across the bottom, toe kick drawers make use of the space below the cabinetry.

Notice this drawing doesn’t include hardware or any suggestions of what the faces, doors, joints, or supports will look like. The idea at this stage is to decide how the space is best divided, then let the professional determine support, engineering, and joinery. In my notes I called out that I drew the dividing walls ½ inch thick, only to help make sense of my measurements so things add up. I didn't need to choose or draw external hardware for him to start the build, because the  client chooses that later. There are a mind boggling array of options for every personal aesthetic and sense of functionality.

After I shared these drawings with Keith, the next stage was marrying my ideas to the realities of materials measurements and methods. The standard height for toe kicks is four inches, and when I walk up to a counter with hiking boots on I realize why - so my toe kick height was raised to four inches. The two upper drawers I had specified as four and five inches deep would be more functional and look more unified if they both became six inches deep instead. This minimizes the height of the cabinet below it a bit, but I admit after I see it all put together I’m so glad I trusted Keith on this one. It’s far more practical and better this way visually. The final structural change was that Keith specified ¾ inch thick material for all dividing walls for its greater rigidity and durability.

Then we talked about cabinet faces. Looking to the simplicity of the rest of the interior for inspiration, we selected a spartan shaker style. At first I thought I’d go with wood finished in a natural tone, but when I decided on the butcher block countertop I began to feel that painting the cabinets would provide a wonderful counterpoint to the natural wood that covered every other surface in the house. We settled on what Keith called “paint grade” and made plans to set up a temporary spray booth and spray paint the cabinet faces - a process the construction guys in my circle call "shooting". Note we're talking about a spraygun and compressor here, not canned spray paint. If cans are involved the guys refer to it as "rattlecanning" (as in, "If the rust on the truck is bothering you that much, I'll just rattlecan it tomorrow after work, and you won't even know it was there.") After final measurements inside the house were taken (several times) the building began.

Keith completed about ninety percent of the job in his shop over a couple days, then brought the almost finished pieces to me at our build site. He fitted the last details right inside the tiny house. One toe-kick drawer had to be adjusted to allow a little more room for the plumbing under the kitchen sink, but he was able to cut and refit it quickly. The following week he returned with my custom vertical grain douglas fir front door, with four thick panes of glass in a mullioned window at the top.

After I got several good long looks at the cabinets with their doors hung and drawers inserted, I felt the wood frames were too lovely to cover up with paint. Not everyone agrees, but I just love natural wood. In the end I decided Keith's idea of paint grade was accurate when it came to the interior panels, but that I would leave the outer frames bare with just a durable protective clear coat over the top. That's left my husband with the job of meticulously hand priming and painting the flat inner panels and finishing all the exposed wood. He had to devise an elaborate clamping scheme to get the cabinets to rest on edge so he could finish the edges without having them stick to the table and get messed up. I chose a color similar to that of green tea ice cream for the cabinetry panels.

Here's a photo of the faces in progress. The fellows at Plaza Paints recommended oil based primer because water based primers make the grains and particles that make up the wood surface swell unevenly, bringing up unwanted surface texture. At this point the wood has been finished and the panels have been primed and panted with three thin coats of latex paint. Each coat of paint has to dry for several hours. The final stage is to let the latex layers cure for several weeks, then coat with a protective clear coat of polyurethane for the best possible durability and washability.

Ultimately the cabinetry expert, Keith Pankow, got everything done beautifully, made it function perfectly, and I was delighted. I paid him well, and he was worth every penny.

Real Time Meets Real Life

Like so many, I had the best intentions when I started this blog. I intended to report several times a week about the progress of our tiny house building project, thereby justifying the name "Real Time Real Tiny". However, real life has intervened and made blog maintenance impossible for quite a while.

Now it's summertime and our tiny gem is nearly finished. We're washing the windows, finishing the cabinet doors, and cleaning it up today. The only things left to finish are the full height shelves, interior closet doors, the loft ladder, and the steel nosing to protect the edges of the lofts. I can't wait to clean up, install the cabinet and closet doors, and see the whole interior in all its finished glory.

Right now there's rosin paper protecting the bamboo floor, plastic covering the toilet, and various other bits of construction detritus littering the inside. Yet still, when I go inside, I simply love it. I wish I could keep it myself. I would use it as an office and studio where I can get away from the household and work in peace. As a child I never understood the Woolfian quote about a woman needing a room of her own to write fiction. Now, as an adult with two children and many demands on my time and attention I finally appreciate the full implications of her statement. I need a room of my own to get anything done that isn't directly related to caring for my family!

I also fantasize about having it as a kind of housing insurance policy in these uncertain economic times. If things get crazy, we could live in our beautifully crafted Lusby. Space would be tight, but it would be better than renting a hotel room by the week or living in a car.