I love it because it means that I don't have to cut the grass with scissors.
I hate it because what I really need is a bush hog. I treat the mower more like a battering ram than a golf course manicurist, which is what it was designed to be.
The tires are full of that green slime product because I run over rose bushes and locust branches, both of which are full of ginormous thorns. Locust thorns are up to 3 inches long. I am not exaggerating. The slime is keeping the tires from being perpetually flat. Poor beat up tires.
The rest of the mower is pretty beat up, too.
Sigh.
Poor mower.
Maybe the mower fairy will send me a new one for Christmas. Or Easter. Or my birthday.
Or maybe I ought to just stop beating this one up.
Hope springeth eternal.
