Samson

I blame it all on the genetics. I mean, imagine Woody Allen (a fellow tribesman) as a mechanic. Doesn't work. He is a brilliant romantic who has not figured out how to move beyond the first flush, he lives in a swamp of guilt and regret, he believes he is being persecuted by you, even if you never met the man. Makes sense? And I share at least one of those epigenetics blessings. Can you guess? I am talking about engine mechanics. I have absolutely no idea how to fix a 76-year old handsome red Massey-Ferguson tractor.

My Massey goes by the name of Samson, and took up residence on the farm a year ago to complete my hobby farmer fantasies. Problem is combustion engines work under cover, and they stop when you remove the cover. So really understanding them, I mean really grocking them, too abstract for my simple see-it-believe-it mind.

I have to tell you now that this post is not going to end well. You can enjoy a quick gawk at Handsome Samson and scroll on. But I am in this for the long haul. Samson had a breakdown. And my mission is to get that old man rolling again.

I called up Driver Don who always has grease under his fingernails. And I played him Sampson's click clicking. I sent him a photograph of the patient too. You know the Tele-health approach.

Don tells me the “from the way it sounds, battery or the starter relay and are likely culprits” and I respond knowingly “The starter relay huh? I wonder what could have gone wrong there?' What I really wanted to ask is where or what is the starter relay and how does relay come into it? Relay? What does that even mean?

So I replaced the battery. That much I can do! Still click clicking, no growl yet. But just the act of replacing it, cleaning the pins, (technical term is giraffe horns) and reattaching it firmly, felt like a win.

I call Don. He tells me to remove the little black box, the starter relay. This is when I would otherwise be shutting down the popsicle stand and placing pot plants around my new red art installation. But success in changing the battery is lighting my way. Remember, with my genes, combustion engines are mysterious and not to be played around with on weekends. I know where the clutch, gas and brake pedal are. Is that not enough?

Not any more. I am into this. With The Don's phone instructions, I am moving along the line and actually learning stuff. I changed the starter relay. So satisfying! But Samson still doesn't start up. I couldn't be more excited. Next instructions from the Don, take out the round black cylinder. It is called a...you guessed it.. starter. I can do that! It is heavy, antique, and the protruding teeth are kind of worn down. No, they don't make starters for 76-year old tractors any more, so I am sending it off to be rebuilt.

Don calls. It's the weekend, Can I come over to take a look, he asks. No thanks. I got this. I am starting to like the feel of grease under my nails. And I will have a name for that box thingy down the line next time too.

One more thing, let it be known that Sampson has the calmest, most handsome, most exposed and most vulnerable combustion engine you will ever meet.