Lawn Mower Woes

Last weekend, my riding mower (which has seen only a single season worth of work) snapped the main mower drive belt.  I'm not terribly handy with mechanical things, but I figured it couldn't be too hard to swap out a belt.  The first thing I learned, is there are roughly elenty-million-billion different types of belts out there.  After exhaustive research, multiple consultations with the manual for my mower, and a fair amount of cursing, I finally zeroed in on the right belt, ordered it, and waited blissfully for it to be sent to me.  It arrived last Tuesday, in excellent time.

It was the wrong size.

120" <> 141".  141">120".  Rage = True.

I'll admit, I was mildly annoyed with myself.  There may have been a few choice words that I may have regretted and had to console myself against later in the day... when I did more exhaustive research.  This time, I did it the old-fashioned way... with a tape measure. Why didn't I do that before?  Well, I thought Google was my friend.  We have since broken up.

Eat your heart out, Google.

So, I found, ordered, and today received my shiny new mower belt.  Installing it wasn't terrible.  Sure there were skinned knuckles, a few bruises, a couple of hugs... you know, the normal stuff.  But when all was said and done, we got the belt back on the mower deck, and the mower deck back on the tractor. Unfortunately, our story does not end there.

My mower (at least the same model)... this one might actually work.

Well, all proud and happy, I hopped on the mower and tried to start it up.  Try is the operative word here.  The engine would not turn over, and the mower would not start.  Nothing runs like a deere.  That's been hit by a car.  And crawled into my barn to die.  (True story - for another time).

I don't trust my mechanics skills enough to try and troubleshoot the problem, so time to get on the phone and call someone.  Trying to save some money on this repair may have ended up costing me a lot more money (and did end up costing me a lot more time).  In the meantime, the grass continues to grow.

Who knows what treasures await beneath this verdant sea?

I wish I could say I learned my lesson, but odds are the next time something breaks, I'll try and fix it until it's even more broken.  I could say it's all part of the learning experience of trying to "go back to the land" and do more for ourselves, but in this case, I think it's more hard-coded into the male DNA.  I think I'll go drown my mower woes in some Diet Dr Pepper.