My Dad could fix just about anything. I suspect this talent was born when he was a young man during the Great Depression. The youngest of nine children living on a farm in northern Minnesota where the soil was sandy and cash was scarce, the family didn't buy new to replace broken. They fixed.
I can remember watching Dad glue the soles of his work boots back on rather than buy new boots. When car and bike tires had inner tubes, Dad would take out his tube patching kit to patch a hole. He wasn't a mechanic, but I have seen him tinker with the engine of a car - mine more than once - until it purred.
Because I am my father's daughter, I decided to tinker with my new pressure canner that wouldn't build up pressure and was spouting steam from several places around the lid, before going through the hassle of returning it.
When I looked closely at the gasket that came with the canner, it looked odd to me. It fit alright around the underside of the lid, but it looked awfully flat. So I switched it out with the gasket from my old canner, added three quarts of water, turned the fire on High and waited to see what would happen.
Lo and behold, not a single steam leak. Pressure built up to where it needed to be. Soon after putting the weight on, it started jiggling like it is supposed to.
I am in the process of dehydrating apples, potatoes and onions. But tomorrow evening I will set out chicken legs and thighs and possibly four whole chickens to thaw to be canned.
Sometimes it pays to tinker.