July 14, 2009
My relationship with small gasoline engines has never been an easy one. I think I inherited a bad gene from my father. My memory of Dad with gas engines- snow blowers, ski doos, outboard motors, and earlier cars- always included wrenches and bad language. Clearing the driveway involved cussing at the big machine to get it to start, and then half way through something would need adjustment, and out came the wrenches. When I was very young, about 3 I think , we were out in a boat, and in his effort to pull start the outboard motor, his fist whacked me in the head. Maybe that's were the curse got passed to me! Now unlike Dad, who had knowledge of the internal workings of these evil machines, and could do something about it, I am just simply left abandoned and hopeless, and not knowing what wrench to use, or for what.
Doug, of course, new everything about these contraptions. After all they were "tools" and Dougie loved tools. I guess building a race car for Mosport gave him the edge.
I, however maintain that gasoline engines should be illegal.
Now, the aforementioned wood chipper did not have to go into town for medical treatment, thank goodness, but was brought to a start by Ray, who removed the spark plug and liquored it up with gasoline. But that trick didn't work for me the next day. However Gisele came later today and taught me how to coax and cajole it into starting. I have found that cheering it on like a race horse was quite effective.
This winter I think I will take a course in small engine maintenance and repair, but hope against hope that cordless or solar powered tools will be developed very soon.
I did not get all the tree debris cleared today. Far from it. But I moved the pile out of the way so I could get the garden area mowed. That was a bit of progress. Next I guess I should challenge the gas hand held weed eater. Oh joy.
Tomorrow the weather is supposed to include showers, but I will try to get down to the dock shortly after sunrise if it is not raining then.