The fix is in
I mean fix as in repair.
Almost nothing is anymore, it’s simply thrown away.
But, true to myself, I’ve dug in my heels and resolved to fix things that are broken.
No more mindlessly adding them to the landfill.
That’s not only to be considerate to the environment, but I miss the satisfaction of, “I DID IT,” with my own two hands.
Try embracing that work ethic while toiling corporately thirteen-hour days a week.
Because when responding to a mere one hundred seventy five mostly mindless emails a day finally ends, there is plenty of time to rediscover talents you learned at your Dad’s knee.
Bring ‘em back I say! [The talents, not his knee.]
As you can see from the picture above, my first challenge was to rebuild my lawn mowers carburetor.
How hard can that be?
If I had a nickel for all the old carbs on cars I had back in the day I wouldn’t today be eyeing the dog food aisle.
Just kidding there, guys.
But getting that first car up and running was a young man’s right of passage. It might not have had any meaningful commercial value, but it sure made you smile when you drove it.
You had your own car, made it go scraped knuckles, banged-on-muffler forehead and all.
And so it will be today with my piddly little 190 cc, four-cycle lawnmower engine, minus the bumps and bruises.
But going to the rebuild kits instructions I find something very ominous. I mean, many men ain’t men anymore, but “…nail polish….” is needed to fix an American icon Briggs & Stratton engine?
Is that for real?
If that isn’t a sign of the times I don’t know what is.
What kind of nail polish? A special color: Stainless Diner Waitress Red, maybe?
It isn’t mentioned, but color can’t really be important: reading on it says ”…..seal Welch Plug with finger nail polish…….”.
Whew, glad that’s put right.
The next step is to cowboy-up here in Texas: I take a big breath and hit Walgreen’s women’s cosmetics.
Cautiously, but focused, on a quiet midweek afternoon I ask a young lady employee:
“I know this is gonna sound weird – ah – but it’s true, I need nail polish to fix my lawnmower.”
I don’t wait for a reaction, because I feel a macho reinforcement coming on, so I add: “Yeah, I need help since I’ve never bought nail polish before.”
I’m not sure that was convincing.
But her reaction was positive as she matter of factly presented a cheap dollar bottle of clear Gotcha Covered, or some teen biz whiz girls latest creation.
Elixir in hand I couldn’t thank, grab and go to the checkout fast enough.
Once outside I likened the experience to that first time you had to buck up and visit the pharmacy to acknowledge your responsibility to population control; or much later in life slinking down an aisle to get a little grey cover.
But at least they were men’s products.
Oh yeah, so what happened with the mower?
Didn’t hear me screaming, “IT’S ALIVE, IT’S ALIVE”, just like Dr. Frankenstein?
It took only a couple of hours and nine bucks for the box, then a few pulls on the rope to refill the carb, and it cranked right over.
Told you I could do it.
And so can you.