Our Not Very Cooperative Boy Toys

When we first bought the Red House, I waxed eloquently about my first attempt to ride the Troy Bilt, and while I was scared doing it, ultimately it was a lot of fun.

The Troy Bilt is fun no more.  Ever since we purchased this machine, we’ve had nothing but problems with it.  Last year when it was sitting in the garage, it became the dwelling of choice for many of the field mice.  They decided it would be really cool to build a house made out of straw (I’m not kidding) inside the engine.  This resulted in us having to waste time and clean out the engine and the filter component before we even attempted to turn it on.

Since our time up at the Red House is limited, the last thing we want to do is spend three hours picking out pieces of dried grass in order to try to get the damn thing to work! Plus, that wasn’t our only problem. One weekend we had a flat tire, this weekend it was the battery.  Lynn even managed to find the “directions” (shown here on the machine and even written in fairly basic English), but we just couldn’t get the stupid thing to start.

My Nemesis

Luckily, we had purchased a 3 year maintenance plan, so once again we had to call the big box company for a service repair request and then they, in turn, phone a guy that works as a subcontractor for them.  He shows up with a trailer attached to his truck and simply hauls the thing away “to take a look at it,” he tells us.

Since we were trying very hard to get a “last mowing” in before the winter weather is upon us, I already know if it doesn’t snow, the grass will be more than a few feet high and the length alone will probably cause the Troy Bilt to explode or something!

Then there was the tiller.  In fairness the tiller hadn’t been used in two years so when it wouldn’t start after numerous tries, Lynn had the bright idea that we should empty out the old gasoline that had been sitting in the machine, fill it with new gas, and give it a go.

The Handy Tiller

Luckily since we wanted to get all the garlic in the ground, it eventually decided to kick on, and although it was difficult to handle (it kind of pulls you), it generally did what it was supposed to do.

I must have had an inkling that mowing the lawn wasn’t going to happen that weekend though since before we drove up, I  remembered thinking of  an old push mower my mom had sitting in her garage.  Could I borrow it?  Would it work?  Could I at least mow the lawn in the front of the house?

I guess I got the last laugh on this.  It did work, although pushing the damn thing through the grass was difficult.  To thank it for a job well done I decided to give it it’s own “portrait,” kind of like a shot you’d see in a magazine romanticizing farm-life.

Hello -- Old School Lawnmower!

Hello, it’s only romantic after the chores are done!