My damn Honda lawnmower wouldn't start the other day. It just pissed me off. Like for no good reason after seven years, it just wouldn't turn over. Fucker. It wasn't the spark plug and I've yet to take it in to be fixed. I borrowed the neighbors and after hitting a hidden stump and nearly destroying it, I returned it, full of gas, still in one piece.
I'm one of those "risk your eyes for mowing" lawnmowers. I live dangerously by trying to get really close to clip things that I shouldn't. I've seen sparks fly off of stone and once decapitated a bunny(unknowingly).
I noticed my mom and dad had an old fashioned reel mower in their garage up north. They gave it to me and I put in in the back of the gas pig for the trip home. Last night I whipped 'er out and sliced and diced the lawn in pure silence. Well, it actually sounds like knife sharpening or something I vaguely remember from Hellraiser.
It's therapeutic. But then my neighbor decided to mow and broke the contemplative rhythm of the whirl. SF was chomping at the bit to get a good turn. I wonder how long his enthusiasm will stay fresh. Chop. Chop.