David and the machine

David and the machine.
Photo by Sylvia Currie

After thirty winters up here at the lake shoveling every snowflake that has drooped on to our driveway, I finally broke down a month ago and bought a snow blower. Kath and I wrestled it out of her car and carried it, disassembled, into the garage where it waited in anticipation for its first job. I examined the owner's manual to study the directions on how to upt the thing together. It talked about taking the clevis pin from the chute support bracket, raising the skid shoes higher on the auger housing and something about a carriage bolt. I was terrified. I rationalized shoveling the snow from the driveway as the snow blower still patiently waited, disassembled, in the garage, by telling my curious neighbours that I "wanted to ensure a good base of snow covering over the gravel before using the blower." (The only thing that had many any sense in the manual was a warning in dark print about the danger of ricochets from gravel being propelled at extreme force by the whirring auger.) When the second snowfall came and I shoveled it off, two of my neighbours came over, one at a time (I think they had been talking) and asked if I would like a hand putting the machine together. Too embarrassed, and too proud, I thanked them and used the excuse of needing to have a better base of snow on the gravel before using the machine.

Fortunately, our friend, Ted, arrived for a visit a day or two after the third heavy snowfall which I had again removed by hand, still trying to get a good base of snow. Sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea, I asked him "What is a carriage bolt?" He told me that it is a bolt that has a round shaft except for a square part just under the head. He told me that they used to be used to put the parts of a carriage together. I said "Oh." He said "Why do you ask?" I said "My new snow blower has one or more carriage bolts." He said "Oh." And then he said "Would you like a hand putting it together?" I said "That's a coincidence...I was just about to head out to put it together when you arrived." It took him ten minutes. I helped by holding the manual open at the right page. It hasn't snowed since.

Story by David Wyse