Four years ago was our first spring here. I was quite pregnant with Li’l Artista by then, and with that year’s tax return there were two big items to be bought: A dishwasher and a rototiller. I’m still lovin’ the dishwasher. God bless Kenmore and Consumer Reports.
I’m thinking Craftsman comes from the “other” place. The place of fire and brimstone, and eternal suffering for those who rely on such machinery. Yes, I’m talking about China.
That rototiller, when it works, works fine.
However, that’s not typical. Last year Hubby had to re-do the transmission/gearbox thingy. WHAT a mess. This year, it worked briefly early in the season, then last week had water in the gas and subsequent problems. That might have been more of an Offspring issue than a Craftsman one.
Hubby took to the garden plot at about dark last night (the poor man’s been working 6 days until 9 or 10 at night, and even had to do a job Sunday morning for a few hours), and after a row and a half, something broke inside and the wheels stopped turning. The tines, of course, kept their pace in a reverse direction, but that would not be handy.
He spent a several hours tearing it apart to find a chain broken.
My call to the Sears parts and service department yielded a modest price quote but up to a week before we have it. A week is not handy, either. Not when my little pots are already suffering in their cramped pots on the porch. Not handy at all.
So, as soon as Organique awakes, we will set out to find a Retailer of Various Types and Styles of Chain from which to buy a length and hope Hubby can rig it up tonight. That, or I will have to buy me a mule and a plow.
Which might not be a bad plan. I bet if the mule breaks, I could eat it, or feed other edible livestock, or something.