Mr. Fixit

This post will have no deep meaning or insights into life, but it is a happy one. One week ago, as I was cruising across my lawn on my Craftsman riding mower, I eased to a stop. I did not purposely stop, something was wrong. I turned the engine off and began pushing the mower back to the garage when I spotted the culprit – a snapped belt. Now, I must admit, I’m no mechanic. By that I mean that my first instinct upon seeing the broken belt, was that I had run over this piece of garbage and it must have damaged something on my mower. Then, using all my engineering background, I deduced that the belt was actually part of the engine, and by breaking, it prevented the something that made the wheels turn from doing whatever it was it was supposed to do.

So, today I set out to attempt to fix the mower. First thing this morning I made a trip to the Home Depot, which, just being in a place like that always makes you feel like a real man. Once I got there, I had to get a little old lady to show me the mower belts and pick out the right one for me. Back at home, I stood in my garage and gathered all the necessary tools that I might need. With instruction book in hand, I delved into my project. The next hour and half is full of minor successes accomplished by a method I like to call, trial by errors. But, eventually there stood my mower, all parts in place, with no extra pieces. It started up beautifully and ran even better than it had before.

When that engine fired up, I felt like I was such a man. A manly man. You know, wrench in hand, grease under the nails, blood on the knuckles, strain in the back and cramp in the leg. Even though it would have taken the average man half the time, I was still proud. I felt like disassembling my truck motor, or watching a Chuck Norris movie. But my yard, by this time really needed mowing. After two and half weeks, it looked like the African Congo, I really thought I might run into a few orangutans back there.

So, I guess the point of the story is…since there should always be a point to every story, right ladies? The point would be, don’t ever ask me to help with anything mechanical. Or if you do, don’t expect to get it right the first time.