when i was just a boy, my summer days were filled with running and jumping and scheming ways to avoid mowing the lawn. the most effective of these ideas was just to claim that there wasn’t enough strength in my whimpy arms to start the mower. i would wheel it out and half-heartedly pull on the chord, then give up and wheel it back to the shed. eventually my parents would come home from work and i would deliver my story, claiming that the mower was most likely broken and would never work again. however, much to my chagrin, one of them would walk out to the shed, pull out the mower, do a little magic tap dance on it, and start it up with only two attempts. as it turned out, my methods of avoiding only delayed what was inevitable. meaning i would then be forced to mow the lawn. i still remember that sinking feeling in my heart when i heard that old piece of junk start.
it’s been a while since i’ve used that mower, but today i could have sworn i heard that thing start up... several times.
