A couple of weeks ago, one of the ladies at the church was asking how she could borrow a tiller, and I mentioned that Momma had one. She talked to Momma and they decided that it might not start, as we lost Daddy five years ago and can't remember the last time it was started. I told her I'd look into it.
I went to Momma's house this morning, drained the old gasoline from the tank and replaced it with fresh gas. Tried to crank it. No-Go. Piddled with it for a little while, then loaded it in the truck to bring home. I could get it to fire when I put gas in the breather, but it wouldn't pick up gas from the tank. I called my mechanic son, and we agreed that I should clean the carburetor.
Before I embarked on that pain-in-the-butt task, I decided to try an old trick. The new gas had been in the tank for several hours, and had been sloshing around in the back of the truck. I squirted a little WD-40 into the breather, pulled on the cord and it started right up. I shut it down, cranked it again. No problem, it cranked right up. Did that a half-dozen times and every time it starts on the first pull.
Whoo-Hoo. I love it when a plan comes together. Now, the church can have rejuvenated flower beds.
The first few years of my marriage we rented a house next door to the landlord's outboard and small engine repair shop. In the spring he did a land office business in starting tillers and lawnmowers for folks who'd left 'em sitting all winter. I got the job because I was over there one Saturday chewing the fat and drinking Joe's coffee. He had me drain the old fuel and put in a cup of fresh, then either pick the machine up and drop it on the concrete floor from about a foot, or if that was inconvenient, smack the side of the cylinder head with a wood mallet a good one. After that, nine out of ten started right up. Joe charged $3.00 plus parts to get your machine running, no charge if he couldn't. I got a dollar for every one I got to start. That paid for my fishing and hunting licenses for four years. Fun, too.
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