RIP, latest mower

I've learned not to bond with lawn implements; it's just not worth it

A couple of weeks ago, I changed the oil and air filter on my gas push mower, and got one good mow out of it. Monday, as I was taking another pass around my 1/5 of an acre, I set the damn thing on fire.

Accidentally, I think.

The last time I tried to revive a mower I set afire (two mowers before this one), the repair bill cost more than the original mower, so I no longer bond with my lawn implements because they will die and I’ll be left in a cloud of blue smoke and a patch of singed grass.

Does any one else remember their grandfather’s mower, the antique one with the huge back wheels and the engine that was exposed to the elements, yet it worked just fine? I have a much-used electric hedge trimmer that predates the Carter administration, and it remains active.

Please understand that I take care of my stuff. I grew up around people who greased their shovels, wiped down their mowers, and made sure their tools were hanging in the right place. It is a mark of honor to have old stuff that works. It shows you are Responsible.

Nevertheless, I’ve thrown up my hands on mowers. On Monday, I did what I always do. I affixed a sign (“Free to good home; needs work”) to the dead mower, rolled it out to the curb and jumped in the car to go buy another one. (My neighbors are handy. Maybe someone can get some use out of this thing and if there are no takers by dump day, well…)

I got maybe two blocks from my house and realized I am done with gas-powered mowers. My yard is mostly gardens. A push mower is my answer. There’s no engine to mess with, no air filters to find in the store, no spark plugs, nothing — plus you get the nice clackety-clack of the blades as you go.

No one took the dead mower (I don’t blame them) so I spent an hour Tuesday taking it apart. I found this kind of task strangely fascinating. If something angers you, set fire to it, and then dismantle it. You’ll walk away a lot calmer.

My last human-powered push mower (four houses and 8 mowers ago) gave my neighbors something to talk about. As I’d clatter around the yard, someone would wander over to talk about how they grew up on such mowers. Me, too. Now bring back rotary phones.