Not the Sharpest Knife in the Drawer

When I used to work at the restaurant, all those many moons ago, a wise man told me that I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.  Or his other favorite, “not the sharpest tool in the shed.”  And it’s true.  I can write thirty page research papers, but never remember where I put my keys.  I have memorized all of the Latin names for every bone in the body, but I could never understand how the jumper cables hook to a car battery.  I need written instructions on how to start a lawn mower.  I have a scientific brain, not a technical one. 

Today, after the latest snow fall, I decided that I needed to clear the driveway.  Last night I wrote down specific instructions from my husband (who is in Oklahoma) on how exactly to start and operate the snowblower.  I bundled myself up, and headed out into the winter mess.  The snow was quite fluffy, making the job of shoveling the walkway easy.  I proceeded to uncover the snow-blower and survey the several buttons, dials and knobs on the operator panel.  I pulled out my instructions, and followed each step diligently.  Then came the pulling of the cord to start the engine.  Horrible flashbacks of trying to start the weed-whacker ripped through my mind.  After the third pull, the engine did roar to life.  I turned down the choke (per my instructions) and off I went. 

The first lesson I learned, quite quickly I might add, was that you should always check to see which way the blower part is facing.  All you need is one mouthful of snow to realize that you need to point the blower away from you.  Then comes the lesson of which way you need to blow the snow, so that your previous work doesn’t get covered up.  This was a little harder for me to get a grasp of, and it took a little trial and error to get it right.  (Remember, not the sharpest tool in the shed.)

After figuring out a couple of these nuances, I began to clear away the four inches of snow that covered our driveway, feeling quite accomplished.  I thought to myself, this isn’t that hard, why did I worry about doing this?  I continued to clear the main driveway, and feeling sure of my technique, decided to do the turn-around also.  As soon as I made the first cut, the engine started to sputter and cough.  I thought that maybe it was out of gas, so I turned it off and got the gas container. 

After learning the engine was hot, (you can suffer a guess on how I found that out), I began to carefully pour gas from a very heavy gas container, into a very small hole on the top of the housing.  Of course, the gas went pretty much everywhere except for that little hole.  After perfecting my pouring method, I replaced the gas cap, pulled the choke out, pumped the primer bulb and pulled the cord.  Nothing.  I tried again and again, but to no avail.  The engine would not start.  I looked at my instructions, looked at the operator panel, and everything was pointing to where it should be.  Confused and a little embarrassed, I decided I probably damaged the snow-blower beyond repair, and started thinking of stories I could tell my husband of why the brand new snow-blower didn’t work anymore. 

So, with most of the driveway cleared, I went back inside, still trying to figure out what I did to this piece of equipment.  Well, to make a long story short, it appears that when an engine is hot, you do not have to prime it, nor do you have to pull the choke all the way out in order to start it.  Apparently when you do this, you flood the engine with too much gas, preventing it from starting.  I’ll add that to my list of newly learned items.  Maybe it’s just easier to pay someone twenty bucks to come and plow.  I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to mess with heavy machinery.