tillers

The Keed.

I can still see that oily black pillar-of-smoke, TOWERING above that there ship.

Yesterday morning (Monday, May 21, 2007) I ran an errand before going to the Canandaigua YMCA to work out.
Any more we’re showing up at the Y around noon. This is because the gym is nearly empty at that time. Earlier it’s crowded.
The errand was to correct two detriments with our tillers.
-1) was to correct a dropsy-caused disappearance of a pin for the big tiller into the grass; the pin that held the dragbar in position.
Dropsy has been a failing ever since the stroke.
There’s no sense trying to fight it.
Supposedly a large pin dropped into the grass — it’s about two inches long and 3/8th-inch in diameter — should be findable. But we couldn’t find it; even raking the grass.
Years ago my Exacto-knife rolled off the easel at the mighty Mezz and fell onto the floor and disappeared.
I looked for a couple seconds but couldn’t see it.
“Forget about it!” I said. “That’s your lot in life after the stroke. Go get your spare.”
“Baloney,” said Frank, the 400-pound head of paste-up. “Exacto-knives don’t just disappear; it has to be there somewhere.”
He proceeded to tear up carpet, and we found the Exacto-knife.
So yes; that pin is out there somewhere — how much time do I wanna spend poking around for it?
I drop things all the time — it’s my lot in life after the stroke. Just go get another.
-2) was the fact the dragbar on the small tiller was missing.
The small tiller was given to us by the 93-year-old nosy neighbor.
Linda got a small Mantis tiller after my stroke, when we thought our big tiller might be beyond my operating.
But the Mantis is a two-stroke, and likes to soak its plug.
So it sat unused in the garage for a long time, rusting its tine-plates.
The 93-year-old nosy neighbor’s son thought he could get the Mantis running, so we gave it to him — and he got it running.
Meanwhile, the 93-year-old nosy neighbor had gotten the small Honda tiller, which had tine-plates the same size as the Mantis.
So we inquired about buying it, now that the 93-year-old nosy neighbor seems too frail to operate it.
They subsequently gave it to us. The 93-year-old nosy neighbor’s son had given them the Mantis in working condition.
But they had lost the dragbar.
And rather than have them poke all over for a missing part to a thing they had given us, and since I had to get a another pin for the big tiller, I decided to get a dragbar for the small tiller.
It only cost about five smackaroos.

“The mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked.

When I first worked there, which was before computerization, the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper pasted-up each page; waxed copy/etc. on cardboard page-dummies.

“The 93-year-old nosy neighbor” is our neighbor across the street. (He’ll be 94 in July.)