La La La Lawnmower...
Mood: Tired and Cranky!
Listening to: Australian Princess
Today I mowed my lawns, in what I am sure my neighbours will remember as an afternoon of comic gold. To the point that the lady across the road took to her verandah chair to watch my antics.
My lawnmower is a champ. I got a brand new shiny Victor for an engagement gift, and when my engagement broke up and I moved home, I took the lawnmower with me. Where my Dad used it to keep their lawns in check. His mower was a cranky old thing, chipped, rusty in spots, vibrated and rattled like an old steam train, blew blue smoke, the whole shebang.
So when I moved out, my Dad very craftily packed for me his old mower, and kept mine. So now "my" mower is a cranky old Victor. Mine was red, it went fast and smooth. I'm sure that the cranky one did have a paint job at one stage, however, it seems to have gone... which I don't understand, as it must have been painted in the era of lead based paints.
It seemed wrong somehow to accuse my dad of stealing my mower, so instead I've been perservering with the old banger. But today may be the end of our time together.
It all started in the front yard. And it did start, first time! I was so shocked that I jumped behind and started pushing. Which is when I discovered the latest development. A self ejecting catcher.
Yes, I can see that this may be a useful invention. Catcher full, engine slows itself, and catcher disengages. Lawnmower designers take note.
However my mower being the old banger that she is, the catcher disengages, debris flies, and the engine just keeps pumping out the blue fumes. Did I mention that it doesn't actually have different speeds? Flat out or stop, and the only way to make it stop is to turn off the petrol and wait until it conks out.
So the self ejecting catcher wasn't a welcome discovery. But, I could deal with it. I just took it as an opportunity to get some extra exercise by emptying the catcher regardless of the fill level. And practice the much underrated art of replacing the catcher whilst holding ones breath and keeping ones eyes tightly closed.
All good.
Then I realised that the fuel tank wasn't sitting where it should be. So I stopped the engine and checked it out like the seasoned mechanic that I am.
It'd fallen off! There are three little screws that hold the fuel tank on top of the engine, and two of them had gone completely. The other one had vibrated its way out and was sitting there, laughing at me. Smartarse screw, I thought to myself as I popped it out, I'll fix you!
I headed down to the shops and attempted to buy some replacement screws. How hard could it be right? No one had screws the right size with the right thread type. (It was fine, not self tapping) (That's technical mechanic-person type talk - are you impressed?? LOL) So I got one screw and thought, oh well, that'll do it.
So I took my screw home, whipped out my philips head screwdriver and tightened them up. Then I did a run up and down and... the bloody thing fell off! So I whipped out my philips head screwdriver and put the screws back in, again. Then I did another run up and down. And it fell off AGAIN.
Rather like lather, rinse, repeat. I mowed, I screwed, and honey you know I repeated.
And all the while that smart little screw was mocking me. Think you'd fix me did you? Think I'm a smartarse do you? HA - I'll show you!
Ok screw. You win. And the rest of you should take this as a warning...
Don't abuse your screw. Even if your screw is a smartarse. In the long run, it will only make your life more difficult.
