When to Buy a New Lawnmower

When I was a boy my father…to earn some extra cash…had a little lawnmower repair shop out back in the garage. So I know a bit about the machines…and thought he did too. Actually he did. But after I gave up on the push mower…the purist's type with no engine at all…he gave me his. My wife and I had just purchased our house and since the yard was far from flat, pushing a 49 year old reel mower got to be quite a chore. Now I had my very first rotary mower. And although it seems dumb to me now…I was pretty excited.

It was some generic brand from someplace like the Andersons…a generic mower from a generic store. I didn't care. It was fire engine red with a 2.5 horsepower Briggs and Stratton and a bag on the back. A shiny…relatively new…rear baggin' lawnmower. This kind of stuff can get a guy going…at least when it's your first. Sure it was a cheap $99 store brand…but it was Homeowner Rick's first foray into power tools. BRRUMM!!

The first summer or two it was fine…although the novelty DID wear off when I realized it weighed like…oh…7 tons. This was way back in the days before safety features that shut off the motor when you're not mowing or stopped the blade if you weren't pushing it. In other words…like older lawnmowers before it…it was DANGEROUS! By the third summer the red paint wasn't so shiny. It didn't run so well. I probably didn't take as good care with it as I should. I may (or may not) have hit it with the car in the garage. Depends who you ask. But I figure if a man can't abuse his lawnmower what CAN he abuse? Possibly his weed whacker…but that's another story altogether.

The real big problem started when the lever that held the bag on the back started failing. Lawnmowers vibrate a lot and sometimes by the end of the chore the clasp would have loosened up considerably. Eventually that very latch holding the rear bag all the grass clippings were jettisoned into got real….real…sloppy. I had to keep an eye on it and tighten the damned thing up every 10 minutes or so. Otherwise I assumed…all hell would break loose. Little did I know how prophetic my concern was.

One excruciatingly hot…humid…August afternoon…the kind only people living in the Midwest…or directly on the Equator…can know of…I decided I better get off my duff and mow the friggin' grass. The charm of cutting the grass had long since turned to dreaded drudgery…even under the coolest conditions. And I had already waited too long. In August…if you have a lawn like mine…when it hasn't rained for a while…the weeds in the lawn get to be say…18 inches tall. So even though your grass…or however much there is of it…is turning brown and dormant…you're not so much "mowing the grass" as "evening up the weeds". So I needed to make the 4 inch high grass and the 18 inch weeds even with each other at about 2 ½ inches. The lawn hadn't turned brown yet. It was right at the cusp of dormancy…still green and in need of mowing. I knew if the job didn't get done this day soon my yard would look like the set of "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" complete with tumblin' tumbleweeds.

Because it was at least 900 degrees with 300% humidity I shunned modesty…put on a pair of shorts, shoes and a headband. I figured at least this way my misery might lead to a little suntan. I started the mower…only took 37 yanks on the cord. Already I was sweating profusely. I mowed behind the garage. Sweat poured off me like waterfall. I mowed the side and front yards. I felt my shoes getting soaked with sweat. Now all I needed to do was the dreaded backyard with it's picnic table moving…doggie doo doo dodging…don't accidentally hit the flowers…exhilaration. My pulse quicken at the thought that in 20 minutes I could be home free. But the totality of the brutally hot afternoon's karma was teetering on disaster. I had…in my haste…disregarded the lever holding the bag on the back of the mower.

What happened next was like a backyard simulation of the Big Bang Theory. As soon as the bag was almost completely full of grass, dust, and weeds…that faulty little lever holding the bat to the back of the rear baggin' rotary mower…gave up the ghost. Immediately the bag BLEW off the back and in one giant FFFFWWWOOOOPPP! What seemed like a BAIL OF HAY smashed into my sweat ridden body and face. I was literally covered head to toe in grass clippings, weeds, dust, and quite possibly doggie doo doo. To say I was outraged is understatement X 1000. I began to swear in languages I didn't know how to speak. "You mutha fukkin goddamned son of a fukkin' lousy cheap ass". I was alternating kicking and spitting on the still running…still belching debris lawnmower from hell. I was possessed with anger and like a GIANT GODZILLA CHIA PET I stomped and kicked and swore and spit and kicked and stomped and swore and spit…in an effort to destroy Tokyo…er…I mean my mower.

Finally…after it dawned on me that I could hurt myself…BADLY…I turned the damned thing off. Still sweating and covered with half my backyard I heard some mumbling in the new silence of the aftermath. I turned to my right and…in the street that runs alongside the house…I saw 6 or 7 little children…none of whom could have been over the age of eight. They all had a look of terrified wonder on their cherubic faces. It was as if they had just witnessed something awesomely surreal. It was a look like "We should tell mom and dad…but they won't believe a six foot Godzilla Chia Pet assaulted a lawn mower." I do believe the event forever changed the way they looked at life...perhaps not in a good way. It was then I realized…people were trying to raise children in this neighborhood. And they didn't deserve to see something like this on a hot summer day in their carefree youth. I decided then and there…YUP! It's time to go out and buy that brand new lawnmower I'd been thinking about since April. You see…I HAD to do this….for the sake of the little children.