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The weedeater is/was one of the best/worst inventions of all time. Boy, does it ever do a job where our ancestors used to have to use handheld swingblades to chop at the brush over and over. Whack-whack-whack, yeah I used one. But now you just fire up the engine and send weeds to Plant Purgatory or wherever, hearing Tim Allen say, "Hurrr-hurr-hurrrr!" all the while. A guy tool, for sure.
And when you fire up the engine (IF it will even crank, dadgummit), get ready for the payback. Anything you hit with the 900 mph fishing line on steroids is going on YOU. I hate a weedeater as much as I love one. Danged if you crank it or danged if you don't.
Let's step back in time. The weedeater was invented long before Al Gore was even a household name, so he hadn't yet invented the internet. Back then, funny stuff had to be circulated on pieces of Xeroxed paper, hand drawn funnies, passed around - hey, have you seen this one? I really wish I'd kept a scrapbook of all the ones I got. Here's a case in point, you have to tilt your head from one side to the other to get the gist. It's amazing, hand drawn, and this is from that era:
From that era, I wish I had a copy of it, there was a circulated copy of a hand-written letter to the Homelite Corporation, early producers of the weedeater. It was reputed to be from a disgruntled customer. The customer had read all of the warnings in the directons for the weedeater, this being an all-new piece of technology, and had adhered to all of the warnings thereof.
The one-page letter described in intricate detail how the irate weedeater operator had hit a fresh dog turd with the weedeater, and the consequences of it. It was colorful, to say the least. The operator was irate that the warnings on this all-new product didn't include, "Don't hit dog turds with it."
All that to say, I finally got fed up with my gas weedeater. I'd crank it (if it would crank) and beat it on the ground trying to get the string to pay out, and generally cussed the whole time I was using it. Sue Unit's brother came to visit and mentioned he got a 24-volt battery-powered eater and he loved it. It's lighter, quieter, doesn't bleed 2-cycle oil all over the garage, and doesn't shoot the yard on you at 30000 mph when you use it.
I got one. The downside is the battery charge doesn't last long at all. But it's perfect for our little yard. By the time the battery dies (and that's soon), I'm done.
So, after I test-drove the new battery powered thing, I put the gas powered monster out by the street. We have dumpster divers. If you put something out by the street, they'll take it. They'll take anything but tree limbs and dirt. Literally. I put a sign on it to keep anybody from ringing the doorbell to ask, "Do you REALLY mean to throw that away?" Hell yes, take it, all of it.
By our best guess, it was out by the street for less than an hour before it was gone. Good luck and happy weedeating, suckers. Don't call us from the emergency room.
And when you fire up the engine (IF it will even crank, dadgummit), get ready for the payback. Anything you hit with the 900 mph fishing line on steroids is going on YOU. I hate a weedeater as much as I love one. Danged if you crank it or danged if you don't.
Let's step back in time. The weedeater was invented long before Al Gore was even a household name, so he hadn't yet invented the internet. Back then, funny stuff had to be circulated on pieces of Xeroxed paper, hand drawn funnies, passed around - hey, have you seen this one? I really wish I'd kept a scrapbook of all the ones I got. Here's a case in point, you have to tilt your head from one side to the other to get the gist. It's amazing, hand drawn, and this is from that era:
From that era, I wish I had a copy of it, there was a circulated copy of a hand-written letter to the Homelite Corporation, early producers of the weedeater. It was reputed to be from a disgruntled customer. The customer had read all of the warnings in the directons for the weedeater, this being an all-new piece of technology, and had adhered to all of the warnings thereof.
The one-page letter described in intricate detail how the irate weedeater operator had hit a fresh dog turd with the weedeater, and the consequences of it. It was colorful, to say the least. The operator was irate that the warnings on this all-new product didn't include, "Don't hit dog turds with it."
All that to say, I finally got fed up with my gas weedeater. I'd crank it (if it would crank) and beat it on the ground trying to get the string to pay out, and generally cussed the whole time I was using it. Sue Unit's brother came to visit and mentioned he got a 24-volt battery-powered eater and he loved it. It's lighter, quieter, doesn't bleed 2-cycle oil all over the garage, and doesn't shoot the yard on you at 30000 mph when you use it.
I got one. The downside is the battery charge doesn't last long at all. But it's perfect for our little yard. By the time the battery dies (and that's soon), I'm done.
So, after I test-drove the new battery powered thing, I put the gas powered monster out by the street. We have dumpster divers. If you put something out by the street, they'll take it. They'll take anything but tree limbs and dirt. Literally. I put a sign on it to keep anybody from ringing the doorbell to ask, "Do you REALLY mean to throw that away?" Hell yes, take it, all of it.
By our best guess, it was out by the street for less than an hour before it was gone. Good luck and happy weedeating, suckers. Don't call us from the emergency room.
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