Summer Cleanup

Since it hasn't rained in Indianapolis in approximately three months, I went out this weekend to examine the dusty remains of my lawn and assess whether it needed to be mowed one last time. In reality, it did not, but I needed to drain the gas out of my riding mower (plus the weather was cool and doing donuts at 5 mph on a mower seemed like it might be entertaining), so I proceeded to mow.

After I was done, I decided that I would tip the mower upright in my garage for the winter. This would save space and provide a thrilling challenge for the kids if they decided to try and get out of the way as the two ton mower came crashing towards them.

I called my father to get advice on the most dangerous possible way to store my mower, and he concurred that standing it upright would do just fine. He also informed me that I should drain the oil from the mower before doing so, lest I end up with a recreation of the Gulf of Mexico on my garage floor. (And really, who likes a greasy duckling stuck to a concrete floor?)

I decided to drain the oil while the mower was still parked in the lawn. I quickly located the drain plug, which required me to lacerate both of my hands in order to even touch it, let alone get enough torque on it for removal. After using a variety of improper tools to beat on the plug, it finally came free.

I had prepared two containers in which to catch the oil -- an oil pan (imagine!) and a milk jug (imagination!). As the oil began to flow, I tried to move the oil pan into place, only to discover that it was too tall. So I grabbed the slightly taller milk jug instead, and as oil ran into my yard and onto my Ralph Lauren fuzzy pullover, I mangled it into position such that it was catching approximately 1/3 of the oil. Another 1/3 was running down my sleeve, and the other 1/3 was forming a nice bubbly crude on my side yard.

After mopping up as much oil as possible (and grumbling about why I couldn't just park the mower over the storm drain to drain the oil...like in the olden days...) I moved the mower into the garage. In the end, Erin and I decided that we love our children, and seeing their legs sticking out from under the mower like the Wicked Witch of the West didn't seem like much of a Christmas photo op, so we parked it horizontally in the corner.

My dad informed me shortly thereafter that I hadn't needed to drain the oil to park it in this configuration. I told him in reply that there was now a lovely, shiny baby seal and several species of crane now soaking in oil in my front yard, who otherwise wouldn't have had the opportunity. Take that, Al Gore.