Lawnmower stupidity (contains mild cursing)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Yesterday was reasonably uneventful, with the exception that I managed to injure myself with the lawnmower. Now, just in case you think I have dismembered myself with running lawnmower blades, or set myself on fire with the petrol, let me assure you that it is nothing that dramatic. It is, however, stupid, so prepare to be entertained by my stupidity.

My lawnmower is the type that has a pull-start. It requires a certain level of dexterity, strength, and dare I say it, determination to start it. Normally this mower (which is brand new) starts with a single, gentle pull. But because it has been unused for several months, the concept of actually *mowing * is now a little foreign to it. Therefore, its motivation to actually *start * is not especially high.

However, my determination to start it was high. I grabbed that pull-cord and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. And pulled. I had to take a breather as I was starting to see spots. I’ve decided that pull-cord-pulling is a little-known form of exercise. Maybe I’ll document the technique and write a best-selling exercise book. Hot, sexy, toned women will stream to my door to thank me for changing their lives. They’ll offer me hot sex and their undying love, but I’ll turn them down, as my heart belongs to MaxBabe. Ahhh, true love.

But I digress. I continued pulling and finally had to take a step back in order to swear and curse. I noticed MaxBabe looking down at me from the deck. She’d been watching me pull and pull and pull. She had the tiniest of smirks on her face. “Are you going to watch me all morning while I try to start this fucker?”, I said. “No…”, she said, somewhat whimsically, her voice trailing off. Anyone who has spent any time with a woman knows that the word “no”, said in that manner, actually means “You betcha!”. Bitch.

I resorted to the owner’s manual, which, of course, contained such useful information as “In order to start the mower, pull the pull-cord”. Bastards. But I did finally find a paragraph, in tiny 2 point size, written in wingdings fonts, which instructed me to give the cord three short, quick pulls in order to align the moon and stars so that the mower will feel inclined to start after those long months of disuse. Clearly I am not the first person in the world to have looked at long grass and thought, “Eh, it can wait.”

So, three quick yanks were performed. Having performed the appropriate amount of short pulls, I proceeded to try to start the mower. My grip on the pull-cord handle must’ve loosened over time. My theory is that my poor muscles, also disused for many months, no longer had the strength to hold my fingers closed over the pull-cord handle. So when I pulled that cord so that my hand ended up behind my head, my fingers gave up and let go of the handle.

In its newfound state of freedom, the handle made a beeline for its antagonist, the person who dared to try to start the mower. It cracked into the side of my head, then continued its retreat back into the body of the lawnmower.

If mower pull-cords had personalities, I’m sure this one was sniggering to itself as it returned to the mower. Meanwhile, I was seeing stars. There were tears in my eyes, and a lump on my head. Little birdies were flying around my head, tweeting. I looked back up to the deck, thankful that MaxBabe had decided to go back inside. At least I was saved that particular indignity.

I reapplied myself to the task at hand. I yanked and pulled and unwound and rewound. Nada. Finally, one of the tweeting birdies landed on my shoulder and said, “Max, did you check that the mower has petrol in it?”. I groaned, already knowing the answer to that question. Sure enough, it was dry as a bone. :smack:

I filled the mower with petrol, primed it, and stood back. I tested the strength of my pull-cord-handle-holding muscles (I’m sure there’s some special Latin name for them). They were good to go. So I tightened my fingers around it, held on tight, and pulled.

VROOOOOOOM! We have liftoff!

So there you have it. The story of how Max managed to injure herself with the lawnmower. I still have a huge lump on my head, 24 hours later. Bastard.

Max :smiley:

2

I notice that in your profile, you really like volleyball. You’d better be careful; volleyballs are also known to be very vindictive, maybe even more than lawn mowers.
And they can’t be placated with gasoline!

3

A spark plug change wouldn’t hurt either, things tend to have short lives after a bit of downtime. Your arm will thank you for it.

4

Great story! The muscular group name would be inferior ropus yankus. :wink:

5

Oh, and I think you should wear a full motorcycle helmet at all times, even to bed. Otherwise you might harm yourself in your sleep by twisting your ears off, or something. you seem to have what we professionals call dissociative step dyslexia, which just means you can’t get the order in which you do things linear. I believe you intended to mow the lawn and THEN put gas in the mower. Add to that your massive masochism disorder and you have an instant recipe for mayhem.
Hmmm, perhaps a biohazard suit with the motorcycle helmet over that.

Well, I see our time is up. Let me know how that works out for you.

6

That somewhat reminds me of my first mow of the season, though I managed to make off sans injury (despite running over a small piece of scrap metal from the house being built next to us…twice [I’m a bright one, I know]).

Same basic story - pulled and pulled at the cord until I deemed that futile. I had fueled it up before trying this, so that wasn’t it. I checked to make sure the spark plug was connected as I occasionally disconnect it to de-muck the underside.

Then I realized I hadn’t “primed” it. It has a little button you have to press three times before starting it. I primed it and pulled the cord a few more times and it didn’t start.

I went and dug out the manual, which proved fruitless, and then I thought to myself “Did you turn the fuel dumiflange on?” Of course! That must be it!

Went back out to the mower searched the thing for the fuel dumiflange only to remember that that was on the old mower. Like I said - bright.

Finally, I got out a screwdriver and took a look at the air filter and saw some FOD on it, so I brushed that off and after one pull it started right up.

I hate mowing the lawn.

7

Ha! That’s priceless! I’ll have to remember that name when I go see the doctor about this lump on my head LOL
Max

8

I picked a 2 year lawnmower for free a few weeks ago, the previous owner complaining it wouldn’t start. He also show me where he replaced the fuel line last year after cutting the original with his weedeater. I took it home, added fresh fuel and after about 10 pulls realized it wasn’t going to start. I pulled off the air cleaner and carburetor and found the carb full of a rubbery gunk. I took a closer look at the fuel line, the previous owner had used a piece of surgical tubing for a few line. I pulled it off and the inside was a gooey mess. I cleaned up the carb, put on some correct fuel line and the mower started on the first pull. Now I need to do something with the blade, it looks like someone used it to mow a rock garden.

9

Lawnmowers, argh…mine is in pieces all over the garage floor right now, and even worse, I went shopping for a new one yesterday.

Self injury story: I am canoing on opening day (fishing). Naturally it begins to rain. My aluminum oar is now wet and slippery. The wind begins to “pick up” so we try to make a beeline for shore, [perhaps thinking we should hide under a nearby large tree to protect ourselves from lightning].

Suddenly, my hand slips in the middle of a particularly furious row of the paddle. BAM! I hit myself squarely in the face, right in the nose. Owww! My glasses–prescription type that darken with the sunlight, and the only pair I have with me–break in two. Since I am sitting in the bow of the vessel, I see–blurrily–one half of my glasses go into the drink. I am now for all intents and purposes blind.

My great catch of the weekend was a self administered black eye.

10

I have to do the first mow of the season either today or tomorrow, since that freak snowstorm last weekend delayed opening day of mowing season, and now I’m afraid. This mower has electric start, but we all know how reliable that feature is. And there are apparently quite a few pre-first-mow rituals that I have been able to ignore in years past, but are now my responsibility, and I can’t admit that I have been completely ignoring my elderly mother when she has gone on and on and on about them in years past. (Fuel, though…that one I remember!) And the worst part is my brother is a landscaper…

11

I hate my pull start lawnmower and it’s a mutual hate. If it won’t start after 3 pulls, it goes back in the shed. Otherwise I just end up in pain. I should have bought an electric one but I knew my inattention would cause me to run over the cord one day and I fear electricity more than the gas mower.

I did injure myself last night though but it was not mower related. I bent down to look under my computer chair and my lack of depth perception caused me to smack my nose into a nearby tray table. Now I have a nice red bump across the bridge of my nose.

12

Heh, that was probably me! A story that will probably never be told on the SDMB: “How Max survived getting struck in the throat by a rock that was kicked up by the mower.”

Painful, it was.

Now that I think of it, I’m starting to think all my mowers, past and present, have some sort of passive-aggressive tendencies. “Sure, I’ll start. But I can’t guarantee you won’t get hurt by flying rocks. I mean, I’ll throw them up but it’s not my fault if you happen to be standing right there behind me!”.
Max :smiley:

13

We just bought an electric mower today! Gas mowers are too much hassle, and I haven’t run over a cord yet. {Crosses fingers} The only recent injury I’ve done to myself is sticking my hand between two very thorny rose branches and trying to yank it away. The bleeding stopped fairly quickly, though.