When I was a kid my dad had a proper lawnmower. It was petrol-powered with a cylinder cutting head and a heavy roller at the back. A Suffolk Colt. There was something about it, the combined smell of petrol and freshly mown grass, the perfect stripes it laid on the lawn, the neatness of the cut. When I was old enough I was allowed to use it to mow the lawn. The only chore I was given that was pure pleasure. I loved running that machine over the grass, loved the the pull of the eager little engine when I opened the throttle, loved the sound, loved the smell, loved everything about it…
I’m in my 50s now, but it wasn’t until I bought my own, refurbished Suffolk Colt, about 10 years ago, that I felt maybe, just maybe, that I was a proper grown-up like my dad was. 10-year old me would smile and understand.
My lawnmower.
Bear with me.
When I was a kid my dad had a proper lawnmower. It was petrol-powered with a cylinder cutting head and a heavy roller at the back. A Suffolk Colt. There was something about it, the combined smell of petrol and freshly mown grass, the perfect stripes it laid on the lawn, the neatness of the cut. When I was old enough I was allowed to use it to mow the lawn. The only chore I was given that was pure pleasure. I loved running that machine over the grass, loved the the pull of the eager little engine when I opened the throttle, loved the sound, loved the smell, loved everything about it…
I’m in my 50s now, but it wasn’t until I bought my own, refurbished Suffolk Colt, about 10 years ago, that I felt maybe, just maybe, that I was a proper grown-up like my dad was. 10-year old me would smile and understand.