One of the things I love about living in Maine is that someone, somewhere will take just about anything off your hands as long as it has a “FREE” sign slapped on it.
So it was last week when my ancient, much-abused, barely functional lawn mower finally bit the dust.
So it was last week when my ancient, much-abused, barely functional lawn mower finally bit the dust.
This thing had been at death’s door for a long time. A very long time. Years, in fact. The side discharge cover was long gone. The mower deck had multiple layers of duct tape plastered all over it, to cover innumerable holes in the metal. Imagine the loudest motorcycle you’ve ever heard, multiply the volume by 10, and you have a rough approximation of what this beast sounded like in action.
Hey, I'm cheap!
The last gasp came when I was mowing the lawn for what would prove to be the final time. The motor housing began to shake, rattle and roll. Then the motor crashed through the flimsy, tape-reinforced deck, pushing the cutting blade into the ground and bringing everything to a stop. Instantly.
After I signed the death certificate, I toyed with the idea of paying the city to let me dispose of the corpse at the local landfill, assuming that's allowed. But then I recalled the many discarded items of dubious value that we’ve eliminated from our lives over the years by giving them away at curbside.
So, pulling down on the mower handle to lift the front wheels and the blade from the ground, I gingerly pushed the late, unlamented device down the driveway and taped a sign to the front of the motor. “FREE,” it read.”MOTOR WORKS.”
I decided that patience was key, because the mower was in such deplorable condition that it might take days, even weeks, to find a taker. But this is Maine, and I had failed to give freebie-loving Mainers their due. The mower was gone within an hour.
Maybe the motor will find a new home in a go-cart. (Do kids still race those things?) Or on a gas-powered leaf rake. Or as the beating heart of the world’s most powerful toilet plunger. I’ll never know. And I don’t care. I’m just glad some anonymous tinkerer claimed the remains. Glad, but not surprised. In Maine, all that is free is valuable.
Sick and tired of your good-for-nothing spouse? Park him in a lawn chair on any sidewalk in Maine with a "FREE" sign around his neck and your problem will be solved. Pronto. Especially if you toss in a deceased toaster or weed whacker for good measure.
Hey, I'm cheap!
The last gasp came when I was mowing the lawn for what would prove to be the final time. The motor housing began to shake, rattle and roll. Then the motor crashed through the flimsy, tape-reinforced deck, pushing the cutting blade into the ground and bringing everything to a stop. Instantly.
After I signed the death certificate, I toyed with the idea of paying the city to let me dispose of the corpse at the local landfill, assuming that's allowed. But then I recalled the many discarded items of dubious value that we’ve eliminated from our lives over the years by giving them away at curbside.
So, pulling down on the mower handle to lift the front wheels and the blade from the ground, I gingerly pushed the late, unlamented device down the driveway and taped a sign to the front of the motor. “FREE,” it read.”MOTOR WORKS.”
I decided that patience was key, because the mower was in such deplorable condition that it might take days, even weeks, to find a taker. But this is Maine, and I had failed to give freebie-loving Mainers their due. The mower was gone within an hour.
Maybe the motor will find a new home in a go-cart. (Do kids still race those things?) Or on a gas-powered leaf rake. Or as the beating heart of the world’s most powerful toilet plunger. I’ll never know. And I don’t care. I’m just glad some anonymous tinkerer claimed the remains. Glad, but not surprised. In Maine, all that is free is valuable.
Sick and tired of your good-for-nothing spouse? Park him in a lawn chair on any sidewalk in Maine with a "FREE" sign around his neck and your problem will be solved. Pronto. Especially if you toss in a deceased toaster or weed whacker for good measure.
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