Damn, that’s some Australia type ****.
That's awesome! You know how some people see a '85 Chevy S10 on the road and think "poor guy", I'm always thinking "well done!".I'm rolling on a 1999 Craftsman 46" cut. If it starts it's a good lawn mower story. When I engage the blades a huge puff of black smoke comes out of the exhaust and it sound like a valve or rod may come out of the side of the engine for a few seconds.
How on earth did yall have your own batting cage but not a riding mower??When I was a kid, I was cutting our back yard with a push mower. I was cutting next to our batting cage and when I went to turn the mower around to cut in another direction, the blade caught the net and destroyed about a 5'x5' section. Needless to say I had to cut a few more yards to pay for the damage......
My heroMy granddaddy had a, ahem, bit of a temper. Riding mower kept being hard to crank, and would die while mowing. So one day he set it on fire, right there in the middle of the yard.
I was out of town for a trial for a couple weeks.
I feel this, along with every cheap weed eater I've launched down the driveway in the spring when they wouldn't crank.My granddaddy had a, ahem, bit of a temper. Riding mower kept being hard to crank, and would die while mowing. So one day he set it on fire, right there in the middle of the yard.
Oh, that reminds me. Same 1/2 acre yard as I mentioned before. Hit a yellow jacket nest with the weed eater. I had to drop it and it idled there with a cloud of mad yellow jackets around it until it ran out of gas. Next day, I poured about a gallon of organic, eco friendly 87 octane down the hole and lit it. I figured the gas came out of the ground at some point and I was just restoring the natural order of things.12-13 years old, ran over a yellow jacket nest. Had no clue it was there. Thought a grasshopper had jumped on my ear - kind of had sticky feeling legs, so I knocked it off. Jumps back on my ear, knock it off, and comes back again. About that same time I feel a few more are on my legs. I'm like, wtf are these grasshoppers doing? Then they all sting me about the same time. 17 me! Jumped off the mower and ran inside. This was before mowers had safeties so it just kept going through the yard. My brother was weed eating... had no clue what was going on, but eventually chased it down and jumped on it.
Watched as my dad set those bastards on fire that night.
I salute your granddad. I’ve got more patience with MSU sports than I do machines not workingMy granddaddy had a, ahem, bit of a temper. Riding mower kept being hard to crank, and would die while mowing. So one day he set it on fire, right there in the middle of the yard.
It’s like your subconscious realizes that you’re gonna have to buy a new one anyway, so at some point, a switch flips and your mind asks… why not? Why shouldn’t I beat the ever looking 17 out if the worthless piece of ****!?!I feel this, along with every cheap weed eater I've launched down the driveway in the spring when they wouldn't crank.
I submitted this on the first Shutdown Fullcast Lawncare Disasters episode, but when I was a kid I ran directly over a planted sapling on a Briggs & Stratton riding mower while dad was standing nearby watching.
I "bumped" one of mom's flowering bushes weedeating once. The terminology of my description of the incident to my parents vs the utter destruction rendered to the flower forevermore enshrined the word "bumped" into the family lexicon to mean "totally destroyed on accident".I submitted this on the first Shutdown Fullcast Lawncare Disasters episode, but when I was a kid I ran directly over a planted sapling on a Briggs & Stratton riding mower while dad was standing nearby watching.
About 20ish years ago I was mowing my mom's front yard and ran over a yellow jacket nest. I didn't notice for a little while until they started buzzing around my face. I looked down and my pants were covered from crotch to ankle in those angry little bastards. I booked it to her patio door, stripped off my jeans and dove inside. Fortunately I managed to only get stung a few times. Took them a couple hours to abandon their lust for vengeance so I could retrieve my pants.
Exactly. My <$100 homelite experiences established my "buy something orange" (Stihl or Echo) philosophy that I implemented the moment I went from completely broke to having some disposable income. I also transitioned to only non-ethanol gas at the same time. <knock on wood> my stuff always cranks within 3 pulls now.It’s like your subconscious realizes that you’re gonna have to buy a new one anyway, so at some point, a switch flips and your mind asks… why not? Why shouldn’t I beat the ever looking 17 out if the worthless piece of ****!?!
This summer I snagged a 40v electric weedeater; I'm never going back.Exactly. My <$100 homelite experiences established my "buy something orange" (Stihl or Echo) philosophy that I implemented the moment I went from completely broke to having some disposable income. I also transitioned to only non-ethanol gas at the same time. <knock on wood> my stuff always cranks within 3 pulls now.
My dad didn't need a riding mower when he had two sons.How on earth did yall have your own batting cage but not a riding mower??
Mine either and I was the only. However, upon my first visit home from State, I couldn't help but notice that he had purchased a riding mower...My dad didn't need a riding mower when he had two sons.
I have too much yard. I typically weedeat for up to, but no more than, two line replacements and two gas tank fillups. At that point I just quit regardless of what is left to do.This summer I snagged a 40v electric weedeater; I'm never going back.
I saw the snake thing earlier. Her arm was grim.
In 1960 my brother and I cut lawns for like $2.00 for a big lawn, using a Western Auto 22 inch push mower and wishing dad could afford to buy us a Yazoo, which was the Cadillac of lawn mowers back then.
We upset folks a lot when we demanded an extra 50 cents to rake after cutting it.
Folks would wait a month and pay us $2.00 to cut one 6 inches deep with fresh Dog crap all over it. Tough way to earn $2.00.
Here is the story that sticks with me still. One guy had a front yard that sloped 15 feet downhill from the house to the street. Not 45 degrees, but close. There was no way you could cut across the slope, or push the mower up and down the hill, so we tied a rope to the push bar and held the mower back as it rolled down the hill, then pulled it back up and moved over to the next strip. The guy got mad at us because we charged him $2.00 when he "good and damn well knew his yard was not as big as the other $2.00 yards we cut in the neighborhood". He was a WWII Marine vet from the Pacific Island campaigns and scared the hell out of us, but business is business. That house is in one of the war zone neighborhoods in west Jackson now and the few times we get the courage to drive the old neighborhood, I still laugh at how bad that yard was.
During my late teenage yearsDamn! That would 17 me up for a while too.
I guess my best is about 11 years old mowing the yard at my dad's office. Spark plug wire had come loose from the spark plug, but the spark was shooting the gap and mower running. I noticed it and thought, "that wire's supposed to be connected, I better fix it (with the mower running)." After being picking myself up from being thrown 10 feet back, I decided to turn the mower off before I reconnected the wire.
My hero
I’ve thrown one 3 times to get it all the way down driveway to the garbage can, and for some reason I gave it one more try and that piece of crap ***** cranked!I feel this, along with every cheap weed eater I've launched down the driveway in the spring when they wouldn't crank.
That's worth a click just to see the video of a snake getting dropped on the picnic!It’s very interesting to see the NBC version compared to the Not the bee version….
either way, it’s a pretty fascinating story.
Holy **** that’s funny. I can’t breathe I’m laughing so hard!My idiot brother who was, at a young age, a professional procrastinator, had waited too long to obey Dad's order to mow the back yard. When patience finally ran out, he got a swat to the azz and told to mow the grass NOW.
Pouting, dubmass gets on the old Snapper rear engine rider (Forrest Gump machine) and begins fulfilling his obligation. Quickly distracted by a large wet area from a hard rain, he decided to do long wheelies through it in high gear, laughing maniacally. I typically just went around this spot, as Dad was a real stickler about the grass he worked so hard to grow. I watched my idiot brother for a while from afar through a window with disbelief at his stupidity, as I knew what was inevitably coming.
Seeing his labors ruined by his own lazy entitled progeny, he watched silently for a few minutes as little brother sailed again and again through the low spot, slinging mud and ripped up turf, giggling like Lettuce posting black penises on Sixpack.
I smiled a little when Dad decided to stroll over, out of view of dubmass, who was having too much fun to notice the dangerous man with a military style gait coming for him. When the laughing moron turned the corner for another pass, he almost ran right into ol' Pop. Over the sound of the mower, I heard him clearly yell, "Having a good time, a s s h o l e?" Little brother was yanked off the mower and in one fluid motion, the subsequent beating began, much to my delight. In his rage, Dad had not noticed that the mower was still in high gear, halted only by brother's foot, which was no longer on the clutch. The mower began spinning against the mud the instant dummy's beating began. While delivering a healthy dose of justice on that azz, Dad had not yet noticed the mower was slowly gaining traction on drier ground and started doing riderless circles through the edge of the now gigantic mud hole.
When the whipping finally ended to my disappointment, Pop had to run over to the old Snapper which was happily turning circles and making new patterns in the yard. When he jumped on it, his feet, now caked with a muddy gumbo, he almost slid off the other side, Bo Duke style, and struggled to stop the machine since his feet kept slipping off the pedals. When his rage subsided to a level where he could think, he simply turned the key off. After the machine slowly came to a halt, I'll never forget that view. Dubmass, covered in mud, crying, making the slow walk of shame back to the house for some mommy's boy consolation. Dad, sitting on a now silent mower, both covered in mud, staring at my brother, debating what the threshold for felony child abuse might be. My brother is lucky to have made it to adulthood. Good times.