Frankly, I pity those in the future with their fuel-cell devices and silent-drive everything. They will miss out on a fundamental enjoyment of life: starting an engine. When there is a need for something to happen, a lawn to be mowed, leaves to be blown, or (as was the case tonight) a driveway to be plowed, starting an engine by hand is a most gratifying thing. You take a still, lifeless piece of metal and machinery and give it a purpose. Exhibit A: our trusty Tecumseh snowblower was always a stubborn starter. Then, my Dad figured out we had the wrong model spark plug in there the last 5 years. Now, one knows the thing should start - but it’s never an easy feat to accomplish. I’ve been playing with the perfect combination of engine priming, choke settings, and throttles, and that combination has been difficult to find. I have had to surrender my manlihooderness’es on numerous occasions and either (a) use the electric start via a wall plugin by running an inconvenient extension cord or (b) convincing everyone around me that I truly am a moron and reading the manual.

Tonight was different. Six full engine primes, a gentle push on the spark plug, full choke, and full throttle. Grab the handle, lock it against the flywheel, quick pull. No start, but the faint rumble of a turnover. Once more, grab the handle and, certainly this time, a definite hint it was about to start. One final pull and the thing roared to life. It’s this feeling, of sparking something bigger and more powerful than you, of a putting into motion, that the fuel-cellers of our future generations will lose out on.

Before you die, give this starting a try: but don’t cop out and start a lawn mower - give power to something stubborn, something tough to get going. It’s an experience that will stick with you.

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