Lawnmowers
Posted on Sunday, May 20, 2007After reading Mr Warmington’s charming piece on his Super Panther lawnmower, my conscience began to attack me, in a vaguely collapsed-Catholic kind of way.
Look at that grass, Bock, it whispered. After all your poor mother did for you. Look at the state of that feckin garden.
And to be honest, I have to admit it was looking a little hirsute.
All right, already! I said , in a vaguely non-observant Jewish way. This I should listen to all my life?
That’s one thing the Jews and the Catholics do really well: guilt. God Almighty, imagine having a Jewish-Catholic mother. You don’t call your old mama so much no more but I understand. You’re too busy. And your hair is a holy show!
Anyway, that has nothing to do with lawnmowers or gardens gone to the bad. The problem, you see, is that my lawnmower had become deceased. An ex-lawnmower, though I can hardly complain really, in the circumstances. The deck was an old aluminium piece that had snapped in several places and was welded back together on three consecutive summers. It was still not in great order, and in fact, only last month a pebble the size of a musket ball shot past my dog’s head at high velocity through a new little hole in the side.
The engine was an ancient Tecumseh 3.5hp that I found in a skip one night on my way home from the pub. Well, actually, I found an entire lawnmower, but it had no wheels and most of it was eaten with rust. The engine was fine though, and so I married the two parts together and the Frankenmower worked away great for many years.
I’m not like Mr Warmington. I don’t take care of lawnmowers. I leave them out in the rain. I don’t bother to clean them after use. Which is why, every year, I go through a two-week ritual of cursing at my lawnmower, replacing the rotten pull-cord, taking the carburettor to pieces, looking at it blankly and putting it back together unchanged. That usually does the trick.
Not this year though. Despite the annual breaking of the pull-cord and the ritual falling back into a thorny bush while cursing loudly, it refused to start, and there it has remained, at my back door, glowering at me like a dog with a mallet up his arse.
And that’s why Mr Warmington had a velvety striped sward and I had the rainforest. And that’s also why I ran down to Homebase today and bought the cheapest, nastiest mower they could sell me. After all, what’s the point of buying an expensive one when I know full well I’ll destroy it by leaving it out in the rain all winter?
Stumble it!
May 20th, 2007
Jaysus, Bock, I had a similar issue myself. Who knew a lawnmower had a spark plug, or a carborator? Not I. The one I used throughout my childhood was indestructible…I never remember changing the oil or a bleeding filter. I remember sharpening the blade.
Now lawnmowers are like vacuum cleaners - might as well buy the cheapest one you can, cause you are gonna need a new one in two years!
May 21st, 2007
I don’t know a fucking thing about lawnmowers. Nor about blogs, sadly, because now you’ve gone all bastarding hi-tech, there’s a strip of funny pictures at the bottom of your entry and I don’t know what it all means.
Time to consult the tea leaves.
May 21st, 2007
this is why i pay a man to mow the lawn…i figured out it was cheaper, besides, he has work and i have a nice little yard..we’re all happy!
May 21st, 2007
Yes, what are all these funny pictures at the bottom of your entry? A tattoo? Isn’t that an awfully sensitive area?
All men should mow lawns - it’s a great aphrodisac for the ladies in their lives. The smell of freshly mown grass mingled with sweat is a heady mix. It brings out the horticulturalist in everyone.
May 21st, 2007
firstly ..phew,
the first time I’ve been able to see your site since the changeover. Secondly, my lazy bastard lawn mower will only work for about 4 minutes a day, so it’s taking me a week to cut the grass, by which time it’s grown again. Sisyphus my arse. It would nearly be enough to make you buy another one.
May 21st, 2007
WrinkylyJoe(Snr) simply refused point blank to purchase and form of powered lawnmower. Oh how I envied my friends with their 3-4hp petrol 2-stroke grass destroyers… We had to make do with some pushmower, a relic from simpler times… When the realisation came that the grass was never going to be cut under these circumstances, JJ simply paved over the front yard and left the back to rot… Sad really…
May 21st, 2007
I’m so glad that I don’t have to mow the lawn or feel responsible for it.
May 23rd, 2007
Much easier to nip down to the 7-11 and pick up a six-pack of Mexicans.
May 24th, 2007
Eliza: Who knew indeed? It’s ridiculous. Like saying Iraq had no WMD. Who knew?
Badgerdaddy: I don’t know what to say to you. The little colouredy things are for you to send Bockism to the Americans when you feel particularly spleenful towards them.
Savannah: yes. We call them immigrants.
Sam: Those funny pictures are kisses for me when I’ve been particularly amusing.
I always mow the lawn, but any woman who’s ever been in my life just said, fuck off you sweaty bastard.
Galwaywegian: I don’t know if Sisyphus did lawns. He was more a rockery man, I hear.
WJJ: that’s cos he’s a mean baldy fucker.
Sassy: Lucky you. I hate lawns and soon mine will be stone, if the plan works out.
Devin: Or as we call them here, Latvians.