This is my dad’s tiller and it’s very, very upset. I heard it cuss’n up a storm as I roto’ed my way through the earth. It seemed to be all heated up for two reasons:
First, it is turning over Obama Land soil – Illinois soil, that is. When I first set the tines to turn, and they automatically turn counter clock-wise while the tires slowly pull forward, the dern thing put the tines in forward motion with the tires, broke the governor on the carburetor, and took off full throttle on its own back to WV! I had to run it down with the truck and pull the gas line before it crossed into Indiana – no tell’n what them dumb hoosiers would have done to it – probably used it to scratch their backs . . . or somethin.
And the second reason for all that briggs-and-stratton rage,
It’s now work’n for a garden hater! For all its days until now it has had the dutiful pleasure of the hands of a gentle man who loved to garden. But not now! This tiller is going to suffer all the days of its wretched life, not only cutting the very soil that its first master deplored, but to boot, its second master hates the very purpose of its existence. I hate gardening – and this stupid machine is going to long for the day that it runs out of oil and blows its gasket . . . (*)
Miss you so very much dad. From the sweet hand of your Lord, may you enjoy the blissful garden that he has prepared for you (Revelation 22:1-5).
* not responsible for any bad words or snarky attitudes expressed – it’s the tiller’s fault:)