The Lawn Mower From Hell! (2006)



Posted: Tuesday, August 29, 2006

by
George Cole

I am mechanically inept. Period.That pretty much sums it up. There are times when we have to repair (and I use the term loosely) mechanical items that cannot be run efficiently (afforded) in the first place.Oh by the way, I am a HUGE KISS fan, and I really did not believe these two diversions (or pastimes) correlate, but surprisingly I found both of them to mesh pleasantly... like nitroglycerin is to heart patients First, the lawn mower was purchased from a pawn shop (i.e. secondhand) three years ago, so the mower is probably twenty years old. The mower ran great initially for the first year.. Then, for some unknown reason, during year two or three, the mower would not start without the air filter being removed. That should have been a warning sign, or the initial shot across the bow of the sinking ship, The S.S. Cole. With the air filter off, this left the carburetor open to the elements (dirt, oil, grime) when the mower was running. It would NOT start without the filter off.

PERIOD! Well, my personality dictates that the grass must be mowed when I have the time (and when I have psyched myself up sufficiently). I cut the grass without the filter the next year. I did not realize it at the time, but the mower started to mutate, sort of like KISS without make-up.

During that third year, the mower was used to cut a neighbor's backyard with two teenage boys who love to dig up rocks and secrete them beneath weeds and shrubbery. A lawn mowing nightmare. While mowing the neighbor's backyard, I hit EVERY rock that little Justin had planted just for me. ZING! POW! SWISH! I ducked and dodged every rock and then, KERPLANG! KERF! KERF! The mower's engine completely stopped due to the mower blade attempting to slice through a fifteen pound secreted boulder covered in dog feces. Me, well being me, I started the mower again without checking the blade. I continued mowing and I became fascinated by the fresh soil being unearthed at every half-row of grass I mowed. I finished the lawn and it appeared that I was attempting to seed a crop of corn. I later found out that when I struck the boulder earlier, this caused half of the lawnmower blade to become bent down and uneven. This dug the grooves in the soil while it mowed the other half of the grass.

2006, Present Day: I woke up after psyching myself up with three glasses of Coca- Cola, a pack of caffedrine, and a quick listen to KISS' War Machine, I was ready, willing, and able to attack my neighbor's lawn, along with mine. In fact, I was going to weed-eat, trim the shrubs, and become a modern day Picasso of lawn care. I pulled out the red, oil-soaked lemon of a mower, and abruptly wanted to pour gasoline all over it and put it out of its misery. Instead of Picasso, I wanted to become the Una bomber of lawn mowers, or the KISS Demon and just blow fire and engulf it. I mean it just looked disgusting, and knowing the Cole family tradition of faithful mechanical appliance breakdowns, I just knew the mower would not start.

Well, I guess the red abomination of a mower read my mind; it did not start. Not only would it not start, the pull cord would not extend, it was jammed/stuck. Now, bear in mind, I knew the mower had an oil leak (with black grease accumulating at the base), would not function with a filter, and the blade was bent (which was not bad if you wanted to till the ground for a crop). In fact, the mowers' grease gurgling down around the base reminded me of KISS' Gene Simmon's blood drooling act.

But, when the pull cord would not budge, I knew what I had to do. I went into Cole Mechanic Mode, which is an oxymoron (with emphasis placed on the second-half of the word) I located the toolbox adjacent to the red, grease-covered demon. The toolbox, I recalled, was the one in which I placed/dumped every socket, hammer, nail, screw, and other assorted hardware into, believing I was being ingenious by placing all of the items in one commodious place (pardon the pun). After approximately one-and-a-half hours, I found the four socket wrenches that fit the bolts on the canopy of the devil-spawn of a mower. Later, I performed delicate surgery on the pulley, the spark plug, while straightening the wiring which was also bent out of alignment. Last, but certainly not least, I removed the mower blade after a half hour of applying diligent force to the bolt holding it in place. I was ecstatic!

The bolt did not want to be released or (exorcised) from it's cozy bungalow, but I did it, I was "Cole The Lawnmower Repairman/Exorcist," so I thought.

Exorcising the blade's holding bolt from its' demonic grooved hollow, I was able to remove the blade. Afterwards, I bent the blade back into something that resembled a tormented axe. I sanded, oiled, and sharpened it. Thanks to my expertise with a sledgehammer, the blade was now ready to to terrorize more grass blades that finicky neighbors deemed too long and unsightly.

After straightening the blade, I was in a blissful state until I looked at the unassembled parts and I knew, I just knew this mower was made by the maker's of the Rubick's Cube. After several hours (o.k., days) of concentration, I reattached the mower blade, but I knew something was wrong when I heard, SWOOSH, SWOOSH, SWOOSH, and then KLANG! I pulled the lawn mower's cord and the engine coughed to life for a brief second. This caused the blade to make three rotations and fall to the ground. I could hear the blades of grass thanking me for their stay of execution. During the grass and weed's standing ovation, I pulled the demon spawn of a mower back into the garage and quit for the day, while promising my audience an encore at a later date.

The next day after psyching myself up yet again with another ear full of KISS'

Tears Are Falling (song), six cans of Budweiser, and a pack of caffedrine, I reattached the mower blade (tighter this time and in the right direction). To my surprise, the mower roared to life, but it was different, way different...like it was possessed. The demonic monster had more power, but was still gurgling oil out of the dipstick. The mower had so much POWER, the gas was blowing out of the holes of the gas cap and pushing oil out of the oil reservoir.

I ended up mowing the grass with the red hell spawn, but I noticed that my ears were ringing afterwards. I noticed that the mower was loud...louder than hell! The demonic spawn of a mower was louder than a KISS concert. After "binding" the mower in the garage (and repeating appropriate prayers), and with my head throbbing from the pounding mower's engine, I MADE A PLAN. I decided to sell the red gasoline soaked abomination, for it has a tour to complete.

Now, how do I get in touch with Gene Simmons (from KISS)?

George "Chris" Cole experienced life as a law enforcement officer with a tour of duty lasting over ten years in law enforcement. He is the survivor of two marriages, and continues to meet new people that provide inspiration for many of his articles and short stories. Many of his articles have appeared in national and local publications.

In 2008, Chris abandoned West Texas and its' "Wal-Mart Trees" (Mesquite bushes that grow plastic bags) to move to the green pastures and real trees of Fredericksburg, Texas. Chris continues to work and hone his writing skills while breathing the fresh air of the hill country.

Mr. Cole can be contacted at kriskohl333@gmail.com.

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Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)
» left by Joshua
from Lancaster 5 years 157 days ago.
VERY GOOD. TEACH ME...OH MASTER!
» left by Stephanie Bash
from Miami, Fla. 5 years 145 days ago.
I really enjoyed the comparison between the mower's devil-like personality vs. Gene! You "possess" a writing niche all your own!
» left by Jackie Wilson
from Granbury, Texas 5 years 124 days ago.
I am not a big kiss fan, but I like your descriptions. I am a retired English teacher, and I correlate with your style.
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