Rumbmbmbm - putt - putt -puttt - puttt - cfghcfgh cough
The sound of my machine as I push it across by back 40 over an assortment of bermuda, dallis and crab grass and other species classified as weeds. I had just finished cutting the green stuff in the alley and along the side yard when I see good neighbor Steve sauntering up my driveway. I cut the engine, as I know I am about to be engaged in an extended "over-the-fence" chat.
Steve opens the conversation, "When are you going to let me fix the choke on your mower?" Steve, a fix-it guy extraordinaire, now retire from a telecommunications career, and former star employee at Home Depot; apparently can not bear to listen to my struggling mower engine any longer from his home across the alley. I stammer like a lawn mower with bad carburation - "Would you do that for me?"
Steve takes a baleful glance at my machine and drops his diagnosis on me, "Sounds like you're not getting a good mix of oxygen in your engine."
Have you changed the air filter?"
I blush and say, "No".
"Have you changed your oil?"
I blanch and say, "No".
Steve bends down and disassembles the cover over my air filter and holds it up in the sunlight; no light comes through the dust and grease choking off the pores. Steve looks disapprovingly at the sludgy air filter in his hand, then tells me to start the engine. I pull the start chord and the engine comes to life with a noticeably smoother purr.
I tell Steve he has now shamed me into doing proper maintenance. Steve says he is not here to shame me, but recommends a trip to Home Depot where I can find air filters to fit most models of mowers.
In my shame, I follow Steve advice and install a new, clean air filter. I now burn a lot less fuel and me and my machine now hum the hymn of a suburban homeowner as I traverse the green, green grass of home on each and every weekend.
The sound of my machine as I push it across by back 40 over an assortment of bermuda, dallis and crab grass and other species classified as weeds. I had just finished cutting the green stuff in the alley and along the side yard when I see good neighbor Steve sauntering up my driveway. I cut the engine, as I know I am about to be engaged in an extended "over-the-fence" chat.
Steve opens the conversation, "When are you going to let me fix the choke on your mower?" Steve, a fix-it guy extraordinaire, now retire from a telecommunications career, and former star employee at Home Depot; apparently can not bear to listen to my struggling mower engine any longer from his home across the alley. I stammer like a lawn mower with bad carburation - "Would you do that for me?"
Steve takes a baleful glance at my machine and drops his diagnosis on me, "Sounds like you're not getting a good mix of oxygen in your engine."
Have you changed the air filter?"
I blush and say, "No".
"Have you changed your oil?"
I blanch and say, "No".
Steve bends down and disassembles the cover over my air filter and holds it up in the sunlight; no light comes through the dust and grease choking off the pores. Steve looks disapprovingly at the sludgy air filter in his hand, then tells me to start the engine. I pull the start chord and the engine comes to life with a noticeably smoother purr.
I tell Steve he has now shamed me into doing proper maintenance. Steve says he is not here to shame me, but recommends a trip to Home Depot where I can find air filters to fit most models of mowers.
In my shame, I follow Steve advice and install a new, clean air filter. I now burn a lot less fuel and me and my machine now hum the hymn of a suburban homeowner as I traverse the green, green grass of home on each and every weekend.
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