It’s Starting to Be a Thing

Does your lawn mower have a name? Mine does. The machine is a Cub Cadet so I stuck him with the very original name of Cubby.

(For the record, I’m in the habit of giving inanimate objects names. We have a tractor named Hazel and a Truck named Phyllis.)

Cubby and I have a unique partnership. I drive him around taming acres of grass on our little homestead, and he challenges me to learn new skills… like lawn mower repair. He’s cool like that.

A few weeks ago, he alerted me it was time for another lesson by making a noise I hadn’t heard before. A weird, whining vibration came from somewhere below my seat and Cubby crawled to a stop, engine still running, but no longer moving forward. Searching for the cause, I found remnants of a shredded belt and under the battery a little plastic fan that had been torn from its mount.

Pushing Cubby back to the garage, I scolded him for the timing of this particular repair lesson. I had a long list of things to do and he really wasn’t helping matters. A little advance warning to clear my schedule would have been nice! He ignored me, as usual. It was lesson time, and that was that.

Now, each lesson begins with learning the names of parts. Peering through the narrow gaps, I did my best to identify the original placement of the broken bits, then went to the internet to search out a parts diagram. Armed with the names of what was needed, I rang up the local repair shop.

“I need a 72” drive belt and new hydrostatic transmission fan for a Cub Cadet LTX 1046M. Do you have them in stock?
I internally patted myself on the back for sounding so nonchalant about the whole thing. I knew this repair was a step up from the last one I’d tackled, and I was slightly concerned I was out of my depth. I would have to call in backup.

Once I had the parts, I grabbed my favorite muscle man, and we headed out to see Cubby. I was glad my hubby had agreed to help me with this repair. The guys in the how-to videos I watched used an impact wrench to remove the tightened nuts and I was fairly certain, even with an extender bar, I would need Matt’s strength to get them to move. Plus, he’s really cute. So, there’s that.

It took a bit of doing to get Cubby on the lift, but once he was up, I crawled underneath and began taking things apart to get them out of the way. The clutch was easy-peasy, but the fan mount gave me a couple new bruises. Between my straining one way, and Matt tugging the other we had the old parts removed and the new ones attached in very short order. I knew we could do it. Long ago, I learned my man and I make a great work team, and there is something wonderfully satisfying about laboring alongside someone whose moves you anticipate. You know, I think I’ll keep him.

Thankfully, Cubby decided to take it easy on us (Not a single tool was chucked across the garage, and swear words kept to a minimum. Good job, Matt!) and within a couple hours, my mower and I were once again attacking the weedy, green expanse. Triumph. I was so proud and grateful. I didn’t even change, wearing my oil stained t-shirt like a badge of honor as we circled the property.

I’m sure the cows were impressed.  

The Misadventures of Tico and Clipperman

For the record, I'm NOT making fun of my husband. My daughter explained that, since he and I are two halves of a whole, it's really self-deprecating humor. So, I'm gonna go with that.

You remember Tico, my little, black dog? There he is! Isn't he cute?

I hadn't gotten around to giving Tico his summer haircut, and Matt decided to help me out and do it himself. It mattered not that he had never given our extremely squirmy, petrified of the clippers, long-haired doggy a buzz cut. He's a small dog. Really, how hard could it be?

I'm hardly an expert, but I have given Tico enough haircuts to be really, really just okay at it. At least when I do it you can still tell Tico is a dog, a plus in my book. So, I was not prepared for the sight that greeted my eyes when a chewed up, slightly lop-sided, black dust mop ran up to me and wagged its tail. Oh. My.

My poor dog looks like he'd been mauled by a rabid squirrel, or maybe had an unfortunate encounter with a weed-whacker. The hair on his back is unevenly chopped and there are large chunks of his mustache missing. Most of the hair on his legs is untouched giving the impression he is wearing wooly chaps. The hair around one ear is shorter than the other so it appears his head is permanently cocked to the side, and his tail is shaved part way down, ending in a long tuft like a lion.

“But, look,” my husband urged, “he’s much cooler now.”

No. I could not look. Every time I did I burst into laughter. I tried to control it to no avail. While petting Tico, I had to keep one hand up so I couldn’t see his face, all the while apologizing to my husband for laughing. It’s been a week and my reaction hasn’t gotten any better. I worry might give my dog a complex. 

Of course, my children think it's funny. More than one of them has commented that he now reminds them of a black version of Falcor, the luckdragon in The Neverending Story.

Falcor

You may wonder why I haven't fixed it yet. I totally have it on my to-do list. Honest. It's just that there are a LOT of things on my to-do list. This is number 36. I'm getting there. In the meantime... he is cooler, so...

Tico's rather "meh" on the whole subject. He has informed me his vanity has taken a backseat to the fact he now gets sympathy treats from the dinner table. He considers this a fair tradeoff. I hope he still thinks so a couple of weeks from now. It will take at least that long for me to scratch his haircut off my list. Perhaps I'll ask my husband to give it another try. I am a firm believer in learning by doing.

On second thought...