When I was growing up, we had one of those old type edgers. Weed whackers weren't invented, so it was an engine, an adjustable steel blade, a drive belt and all was mounted on a three wheel cart, with handles.
It was easy to use. You started the engine, set the blade to the correct height and ran it down the edge between concrete and the yard. Simple? Right?
I finished the drive, so I need to go edge the patio. Next to the house was a walk that was elevated from the drive. I left the engine running, pulled the blade up, tilted it back and eased it up on the walk. No problem and everything was good.
Now, I'd reached the point where the walk ended and needed to roll the edger on the grass a short distance to edge our small , concrete back-patio. I reached down and grabbed the handy handle on the top of the edger and the next thing I remember, I was laying on my back staring at the sky.
I spent a few moments wondering who tackled me, looked around and slowly stood up. The edger had died and was laying on the side. I looked again, but couldn't find who knocked me to the ground, so I carefully reached down to pick up the edger and place it back upright.
I made a discovery. My hand, and fingers, were a perfect match for the handle and the top of the spark plug right under the handle. During my effort to pick up the edger, I managed to place the top of the spark plug between my middle and ring finger.
My arm ached for about an hour and I was sore for a few days, which was much better than finding I'd managed to fall into the spinning blade on the edger.
You live and you learn. It looked a lot like the photo below, but if you notice, no top handle and exposed spark plug on the newer models.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.