Mongrel Sat Mar 23, 2013 8:29 am
I've found that the lawnmower powered by a two-stroke gasoline engine is the sweetest grass-cutting machine ever devised. Having purchased my first dwelling in the late 1970's and not having much cabbage left in the money clip, I wentured to the Retail Zones in search of a new device to service my 5,000 +/- square feet of fescue/rye/crabgrass mix and was dismayed at the prices. Until I scoped the Lawn & Garden section of my last resort, Sears, where I asked the veteran salesman to point me to the least expensive powered push mower. He held his nose and pointed to a puke-green beauty with a two-stroke engine and told me that it was approximately fifty dollars U.S. and I grabbed it off the shelf.
For those lacking classical mechanical knowledge, the genius of the two-stroke gasoline engine is that you never have to change the oil because you mix oil with the gas and all the internal metallic surfaces of the motor are lubricated quite nicely. So long as the mixture is correct.
So I take this thing back to my new home and fuel it up. It is a lovely spring day in late March and every lawn in the 'hood has greened up a bit and the wild onions have sprouted up four to six inches everywhere and the dandelions have started to provide some yellow here and there. In other words, TIME TO MOW, you'all!
Long story short: I fired my new toy up in the front yard and the whole street was filled with the distinctive note of single-cylinder two-stroke music masking the obnoxious trills of the first songbirds of Spring. And the air was filled with that unique perfume that is internal combustion heavy on the oil. In less that two minutes, the cloud of exhaust spread on the gentle breeze for several blocks in every direction alerting my neighbors that it was time to throw on the Top Siders and jeans and get to work, you lazy slackers.
A side benefit of the magic of the two-stroke is that the exhaust cloud is not pleasant for insects including mosquitoes and when I mowed her up real tight prior to one of our infamous Garden Parties, the noxious pests quit the premises for hours and would only return well after dark when both hosts and guests were too stoned and drunk to really give a shit.
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