“It ain’t rocket-science”

(For those who noisily claim I’m no longer able, OR NEVER WAS ABLE, to do such a thing, I offer undeniable photographical proof that I changed out the deck on our Honda walk-behind mower.)

Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk-nyuk..... (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.)

Our mower-deck is a heavy steel stamping, but it was severely rusted and disintegrating.
Primarily because it’s a mulching mower.
Wet grass would pile up inside the deck, rusting it out.
Okay, but otherwise the mower is fine. Runs great, and everything else was solid.
So I ordered a new deck for it. It looked like it could be replaced.
Took a while, but the new deck finally arrived at Victor Power Equipment, the Honda store nearby I patronize — not the store where we bought it, which is farther away in deepest, darkest Henrietta.
Next item of business: swap decks.
Linda suggested farming it out, but it looked doable to me.
I figured maybe eight hours max, and possibly running into something that made me farm it out.
So I set about doing it the other day (Tuesday, May 5, 2009). We already had to use it once this season, and Linda was afraid the deck would fall apart.
The wheel-holders are a simple bolt-on attachment, so they were easily transferred.
I ran into a problem that looked like I’d have to farm it out, namely snap-rings that held everything together in the rear wheel-holders.
My snap-ring pliers are cheese; not actual snap-ring pliers with the snap-ring pins integral.
The snap-ring pins are on tiny rods that screw-clamp into place into grooves in the pliers.
The rods are screw-clamped into place, and can work loose.
But I got it to work — snap-rings released.
The deck also has baffles inside, but they are held in place by the bolts that hold the wheel-holders.
Baffles transferred.
Next item of business: The great transfer; reinstall the motor onto the new deck.
I hadn’t dislodged the cables; everything was still attached to the motor and handle.
Four simple bolts; unscrew each, and transfer motor to new deck. Reinstall handle to rear wheel-holders.
“I see a reassembled lawnmower,” my wife said.
“It ain’t rocket-science,” I said.
Engage pull-cable; start mower.
“Putt-putt-putt — ROAR!”
“Nobody convinces me I can’t do something I think I can do,” I say.
I ain’t what I was 10 years ago.
—I’m 65, and my legs ache, my balance is sloppy, and it’s hard getting up.
But I can still grovel around on the garage floor, and the old brain still works, what’s left of it.
About 5&1/2 hours; a slam-dunk.

RE: “For those who noisily claim I’m no longer able, OR NEVER WAS ABLE.......” —My siblings all claim I’m a complete and utter airhead.

RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.

“Deepest, darkest Henrietta” is a rather effusive and obnoxious suburb south of Rochester.

“Linda” is my wife of 41+ years.

RE: “What’s left of it......” —I had a stroke October 26, 1993, and it killed part of my brain.