The snowblower
A few years back, I bought myself this nice red snowblower, seeing as how I was (then) a new homeowner with quite a spacious driveway and a good length of sidewalk which I was now in charge of, I figured what the heck.
So, the thing has run pretty well, over the past few years, and gotten me through a handful of decent storms. I would say overall it is an item of mediocre quality though. The plastic snow chute is kind of cheap and has fallen off a few times. Also, last year, the kill switch somehow broke loose, never to be seen again. For the remainder of the season I would have to kill the engine by prying the spark plug cap off with an instrument such as a rake handle, or other implement (I did try this at first with wet, gloved hands, and I received such an electrocution, that I am sure my heart stopped for a minute).
So last night, I decided I should probably get the thing ready, since snow is really just around the corner here in New England. I got my tools all together, located a nice little microswitch that was leftover from another aborted project, and headed out to the gee-rage.
I messed with the wires that were dangling loose, where the old switch used to be located. I finally figured out, through more bouts with minor electrocution, which one was the wire that when grounded, would kill the spark. After some hasty soldering with my $12 soldering iron, I was ready to find a place to drill the hole where the switch would go.
I decided on a nice open spot on a piece of plastic shroud, adjacent to where the engine speed control lever is. In the inadequate light it seemed like a decent choice, and I was in a bit of a hurry as my hands were starting to get cold.
I fired up the hi-speed drill and pushed it home, right through the shroud, and also right through some fucking part of the carburator, which holds gasoline, which promptly started emptying onto my pants.
