I could not do a pull-up as a kid. My record of zeros over years of Presidential Physical Fitness evaluations in elementary school spoke for itself.
It haunted me into adulthood. Walking by sidewalk construction sites in Brooklyn, if no one was around, I would jump up and grapple the scaffolding to try a palm-blackening pull-up.
Later on, after I had kids, we’d go to playgrounds where I’d meet an old foe: the monkey bars. Actually traversing the bars hand over hand was out of the question, but I could hang from them (for a moment). As the kids grew up, I got to the point where I could routinely do several playground pull-ups at a time. Still, this meant working out in street clothes, getting odd looks from parents, dealing with the weather, and cramping my knees up into my chest on equipment sized for kids.
So it was a big upgrade when I tried a doorway-mount pull-up bar at home. The first model I got lasted years. But I recently upgraded to a new one, and it is so much better than everything else I’ve ever used, I think it really ought to be in everybody’s home.
