About a month
before I made my trek to Canada to go fishing, I had a problem with my push
mower. That first line is a laugh, so
you might want to read that again. My
“push” mower. We don’t have push
mowers. I haven’t had a push mower since
I was in my twenties. I have a “hold on
and walk behind” mower. I smoke a cigar
and look around as the mower does the rest.
I might also mention that most of the ideas I get for posts on this blog
come when I am cutting the grass, so I find it ironic that now I am writing a
post about my lawn mower.
One fine day, the control cable on
the self-propelled unit broke. I am
quite content to change the oil, the plug, the air filter, sharpen the blade,
etc., but anything past that, forget it.
I am not a mechanic. I took the
cover off and discovered the broken cable and said out loud, “Well, lookie
there, a broken cable. Over my
head. I guess it’s going to the guy down
the street.”
I
put the cover back on and promptly cut the grass the old fashioned way, by
pushing the lawn mower. Wow, was I
spoiled! It felt as though I were
pushing my Kia across the yard. Instead
of smoking my cigar, I found myself chewing it.
Sweat poured off me like Niagara.
It really was sad. I think my
neighbors were watching and laughing.
Not sure about that, but pretty sure.
A couple of them are pretty sadistic.
When I finished, I wanted to go fall in my pool, but I didn’t have the
energy. I thought I might drown. I’m too heavy for my grandkid’s floaties to
work on me. I would just drown nearer
the surface.
I took the mower to a little elderly
guy just out of the subdivision who has a shop.
A real pleasant man who said he would order the part and get it fixed
for me. I checked back with him after a
week, when my grass needed cutting again.
He said he hadn’t gotten the part in yet. “Sometimes it takes a couple weeks from these
guys.” Really? What is so special about a lawn mower cable?
Bill, my neighbor across the street,
knew about my mower and had offered the use of his mower ahead of time. The next day I took him up on his offer. He didn’t warn me about his mower. I broke out my cigar, gassed up his mower and
decided to start with my back yard. I
fired it up. Very easy to start. Quiet engine, controls were at my fingertips. Here we go.
I lit my cigar and grabbed the bar
to start the self-propelled part of the mower.
Holy crap! This mower was on
steroids. This had to be the world’s
fastest push mower. No joke, I had to be
going twice as fast as I was with my lawn mower. I needed to be on rollerblades. I was flying.
Normally I can finish my cigar in the time it takes to do my lawn. Not this time. I could have done my lawn and a
neighbor’s. As for thinking about blog
posts, forget it. No time. I had to concentrate on what I was
doing. I was worried about crashing into
things.
I took that innocent looking mower
back to my neighbor and prayed mine would be ready before the grass grew
again. Before I left for Canada, I went
back to check. “Nope, still no part.” Apparently, this part was coming from a
country occupied by ISIS. I also found
out later that the Pony Express is alive and well. They shipped it by them across the
Atlantic. Yep, really. I even went to Leslie’s Pool Supplies to
check and yes, indeed, they have water wings for horses.
While I was away, my dear Lana
borrowed Bill’s lawn mower and used it.
I wish I could have seen that.
She is 5’2”. She had to have been
jogging behind it. That is NOT a push
mower.
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