She called me at work to inform me she was going to cut the grass but after taking the oil filter off and topping it off, the mower wouldn't start, "Did I have any suggestions?".
I told her that the mower didn't have an oil filter so we've got a situation, just push it to the shed and don't touch it again.
This 1959 Sears lawnmower lasted through one father and three boys that tried to kill it and it took everything that we threw at it. Until, the Jade Goddess gave it a whirl. It had a strong belt and lever throw device that sprung the blades into action via a shaft with metal couplers, greased ring and pinion gears that drove the blades. You had to ease the lever down and engage the blades slowly to allow the torque/belt to get the mass of steel moving from zero to full song. Well as luck would have it, as she drove it into position to begin mowing, a large stick had wedged between the blades/deck locking the blades. Had the blades become engaged gradually this would have bogged it down and nothing would have happened, however, she just threw the lever like a cowboy and kablammo sheared couplers/shafts/gears/belts but no injuries to herself. Only the mower and her pride. Sears actually has everything still available for the mower. But..... I discovered that as I replaced the damaged parts, while they were still "in spec" but not quite like the old parts, thus the old parts began to fail. (Two ring/pinon gears per blade, not belts and spindles, great design) It became apparent that each replacement part uncovered another weak link that would fail. Which means the grass wasn't getting cut. Frustration+tall grass=new mower.
However, this thing still started and ran on the first pull, so it was a good #2 limb dragger and part time "4 wheeler". Eventually it was time to let it go. The local scrappers hang out near a "no questions asked" public dump site and they gleefully take turns getting anything you bring. I arrived with this solid steel beast and the old boy that was "next" (they have a scrapper code of honor & take turns apparently) had that "hail yeah" look on his face. We decided to try to back up tailgates and roll from one to another, the only problem was his Chevy S-10 was about 2 feet lower than mine. Gravity will win the fight so since it's his truck on the receiving end, he's in charge of this maneuver. It was coming off heavy, nose/engine end first (I had backed it into the bed) so he gives it a Hercules tug and "BAM" it hits his tailgate and bounces the S-10's front wheels off of the ground. It was a good day to be a lucky scrapper.
Another time the neighborhood kids were getting together a lawn mowing business. Alliances were formed and business plans laid out for the Dad's. Most plans included a new mower for this venture. My business partner "Scotty" had a tough Marine for a father. His father jogged the perimeter of their yard shirtless about forty times each morning, as he had calculated this to be two miles. (I would never question his math) I'm sure that it was a tough sell, but they bought a new mower and Scotty immediately drove it over to our house to show it off. Price tags and stickers still hanging from the steering wheel. Several neighborhood kids were there. Well, what to do now? Take it to the creek of course. We had a backyard creek that had a few places where the bank was undercut, creating a four foot or more drop to the limestone bedrock. We saw a small log and found some rope, so we were going to see if this lawnmower could pull this old log up to the top. So far so good right?, just goofing around.
Scotty pulls into position in order to begin backing the mower down and I'll attach the rope. I'm down below giving the "monback" so he proceeds, the mower picks up speed, he's cramming the clutch but NOT the brake, now the mower really picks up speed. I'm giving the wave-off, OH-NO, Scotty jumps off just as I duck and the mower flies over my head and crashes rear engine down, on the rocks. We are speechless as the oil & gas sheen begins to swirl downstream. We all pitch in and get the thing upright and it's fried. The motor is busted, steering wheel bent like a question mark, deck was 90 degrees off. We helped push the mower back to within one house of Scotty's, and since we were all afraid of his Dad, we said our goodbyes to Scotty, as we knew he would be dead soon. He had to push it the rest of the way, as we hid in the bushes one yard away. We couldn't see anything but we were waiting, waiting, waiting, we were sure he should be back by now and just as we decided to leave the entire neighborhood shook with expletives I need not repeat here. You know the ones.
R.I.P. Scotty as we were now in full sprint with kid's scattering in different directions straight to the presumed safety home.
My business partner Scotty lived, his older brother was a gearhead, and he was able to cobble it back together after buying many new parts. The steering was never right, nor was the deck ever level or adjustable. Thus, my partner was always mandated to cut the backyards of our customers, since his mower left a terrible jacked up lawn, while I had a not so screwed up mower and could make it pretty. Sometimes he got the better deal with a small backyard, sometimes not. Created some friction at times, but we all learned a few life lessons there.
