Post-Apocalyptic Lawncare 2.0.

My uncle brought me a 20-year-old-but-used-three-times-and-sat-in-his-barn-ever-since reel mower to see if I could take the handle off and use it to replace the one on my dead mower.

If I could resurrect the giant, aged beast, I was going to name it The Lazarus Amalgam.

I couldn't, but with some WD-40 I was able to get the one my uncle brought me going again. It is much lighter.

I took the dead one to the scrapyard yesterday. It weighed 36 freakin' pounds, even without the handle. I doubt the replacement one weighs 10.

Anyway, I got a buck twenty out of the old one. I was just glad to get it out of my way. Next time you buy a car, a frying pan, or anything iron or iron-containing, it may be haunted with the ghost of the thing.

Yesterday afternoon, I mowed almost the entire backyard and both side yards with the new one.

I call it the Osama Defiance Machine.