The Very Bad Lawnmower
My lawnmower must have killed somebody in a past life, and it couldn't have been an accident. Oh, no, my lawnmower must have been truly evil and have a long, lawnmower's life to restore karmic balance in the lawnmower universe.
Six summers ago, I bought a shiny, red Craftsman lawnmower with a 6.75 horsepower Briggs & Stratton engine. "MRS" the engine says. That stands for "Most Reliable Start"; if the lawnmower is married, her spouse must be off-planet or something.
There's a lot of grass to cut at Toad Woods. Much of it is on slopes. There are rocks and branches and divots and all sorts of things that are considerably less than friendly to lawnmowers. I'm also slovenly in my mowing habits, all too often letting the grass and meadow flowers get knee high before stumbling on a workable combination of 1) being home; 2) having the grass be dry enough to mow; 3) being awake; 4) enough daylight for mowing (I've pushed that one rather a lot); and 5) space in my work schedule to spend time pushing a mower across my yard -- the total distance traversed is close to a mile.
I'm sure there are other factors, but you get the idea. It's arduous mowing under the best of conditions.
But I'm a lawnmower abuser. I don't provide the best of conditions.
In a fair world, my lawnmower would have refused to start at least 3 summers ago. The only thing I do is pour gasoline into it. Even that is full of fail -- the gas is often a year old and I think there was one time when a single can of gas lasted from the end of one season, through all of the next year and the first few mowings of the year after that.
I say, "Here, have some 2-year-old gas."
My mower says, "Vroom. Vroom."
Last year, at the beginning of the season, I bought and installed a replacement cap of "Fresh Start." I also bought a quart of oil, intending to at least drain the original oil and replace it with new, but the bottle still sits on a shelf in the garage, unopened.
That is the extent of maintenance I've done on my lawnmower. The showers and cascades of sparks that fly when I slice the edge off a rock might conceivably be sharpening the blade, but that's not the way to bet. The mower still has the original, 2004 spark plug, oil, filters, and air cleaner. You know, the things all PDFs of lawnmower maintenance schedules tell you to replace every year, and more often than that if you use the mower a lot (or even an ordinary amount).
Which brings us to today. Dealing with gallbladder issues and deadlines kept me from mowing the lawn two weeks ago, back when just the first blades of grass were spurting knee-high seed heads. Then came more work, and most of a week of rain, and I realized I was about to be in a lot of trouble. I can't count on being able to push a mower when I first come home, and I don't even know for sure when that will be. The yard was already more meadow than lawn, and as much as I love that look, the general effect when spread across the entire lawn is that of an abandoned, unkempt property. There's a limit on how much of that I can comfortably tolerate and I'd already been pushing that limit for the last week.
I pulled the mower out, checked the "Fresh Start" cap. "Replace when empty," it says. Nope, not empty, but the gas tank was. Bone dry. Yes, I remember deliberately running it out of gas last fall, thinking I would finally get around to draining and replacing the oil.
The gas can was somewhat less than a quarter full, but there was still plenty of last year's gas to fill the mower's small tank. Or did I last fill the gas can two years ago...?
Frankly, I didn't deserve for the mower to start at all.
I pushed the primer button a few extra times for good measure, but not too many for that can flood things. Hold the dead man's bar, give the cord a swift, steady pull...
"Vroom Vroom."
First try.
My lawnmower must have been very, very bad in a previous life. Many previous lives, maybe.
Not only did it start right up, it restarted without difficulty every time the engine seized and quit when I inadvertently buried the blade in soft soil on the hillside, something that happened far more times than anyone would wish. The groundhogs may be the source of the problem...or maybe it's the sinkhole.
The mower cut each and every blade of the knee-high grass I pushed it over. It chewed up and spit out branches I couldn't see in the thick grass. The blade cried out in horror as it became reacquainted with the reality of my lawn and mowing sensibilities. As daylight moved steadily toward darkness, the mower and I finished the job.
The part of me that is my father's daughter is ashamed. Tools deserve respect, to be properly used and cared for. The part of me that recognizes I'm not a small engine person and I likely never will be is simply amazed that the mower still starts when I pull the cord, that the blade still cuts grass.
I don't deserve this mower, and it certainly doesn't deserve me. Life isn't fair, but that means every so often it brings 6.75 horsepower of sheer luck our way.
Six summers ago, I bought a shiny, red Craftsman lawnmower with a 6.75 horsepower Briggs & Stratton engine. "MRS" the engine says. That stands for "Most Reliable Start"; if the lawnmower is married, her spouse must be off-planet or something.
There's a lot of grass to cut at Toad Woods. Much of it is on slopes. There are rocks and branches and divots and all sorts of things that are considerably less than friendly to lawnmowers. I'm also slovenly in my mowing habits, all too often letting the grass and meadow flowers get knee high before stumbling on a workable combination of 1) being home; 2) having the grass be dry enough to mow; 3) being awake; 4) enough daylight for mowing (I've pushed that one rather a lot); and 5) space in my work schedule to spend time pushing a mower across my yard -- the total distance traversed is close to a mile.
I'm sure there are other factors, but you get the idea. It's arduous mowing under the best of conditions.
But I'm a lawnmower abuser. I don't provide the best of conditions.
In a fair world, my lawnmower would have refused to start at least 3 summers ago. The only thing I do is pour gasoline into it. Even that is full of fail -- the gas is often a year old and I think there was one time when a single can of gas lasted from the end of one season, through all of the next year and the first few mowings of the year after that.
I say, "Here, have some 2-year-old gas."
My mower says, "Vroom. Vroom."
Last year, at the beginning of the season, I bought and installed a replacement cap of "Fresh Start." I also bought a quart of oil, intending to at least drain the original oil and replace it with new, but the bottle still sits on a shelf in the garage, unopened.
That is the extent of maintenance I've done on my lawnmower. The showers and cascades of sparks that fly when I slice the edge off a rock might conceivably be sharpening the blade, but that's not the way to bet. The mower still has the original, 2004 spark plug, oil, filters, and air cleaner. You know, the things all PDFs of lawnmower maintenance schedules tell you to replace every year, and more often than that if you use the mower a lot (or even an ordinary amount).
Which brings us to today. Dealing with gallbladder issues and deadlines kept me from mowing the lawn two weeks ago, back when just the first blades of grass were spurting knee-high seed heads. Then came more work, and most of a week of rain, and I realized I was about to be in a lot of trouble. I can't count on being able to push a mower when I first come home, and I don't even know for sure when that will be. The yard was already more meadow than lawn, and as much as I love that look, the general effect when spread across the entire lawn is that of an abandoned, unkempt property. There's a limit on how much of that I can comfortably tolerate and I'd already been pushing that limit for the last week.
I pulled the mower out, checked the "Fresh Start" cap. "Replace when empty," it says. Nope, not empty, but the gas tank was. Bone dry. Yes, I remember deliberately running it out of gas last fall, thinking I would finally get around to draining and replacing the oil.
The gas can was somewhat less than a quarter full, but there was still plenty of last year's gas to fill the mower's small tank. Or did I last fill the gas can two years ago...?
Frankly, I didn't deserve for the mower to start at all.
I pushed the primer button a few extra times for good measure, but not too many for that can flood things. Hold the dead man's bar, give the cord a swift, steady pull...
"Vroom Vroom."
First try.
My lawnmower must have been very, very bad in a previous life. Many previous lives, maybe.
Not only did it start right up, it restarted without difficulty every time the engine seized and quit when I inadvertently buried the blade in soft soil on the hillside, something that happened far more times than anyone would wish. The groundhogs may be the source of the problem...or maybe it's the sinkhole.
The mower cut each and every blade of the knee-high grass I pushed it over. It chewed up and spit out branches I couldn't see in the thick grass. The blade cried out in horror as it became reacquainted with the reality of my lawn and mowing sensibilities. As daylight moved steadily toward darkness, the mower and I finished the job.
The part of me that is my father's daughter is ashamed. Tools deserve respect, to be properly used and cared for. The part of me that recognizes I'm not a small engine person and I likely never will be is simply amazed that the mower still starts when I pull the cord, that the blade still cuts grass.
I don't deserve this mower, and it certainly doesn't deserve me. Life isn't fair, but that means every so often it brings 6.75 horsepower of sheer luck our way.