Woodpile Report: Round #2

[The firewood supply rebuild started late and with a shaky start. However, firewood is not a sprint it’s a marathon. You build a mountain a pebble at a time. My second round was pretty weak though.]

Round #2:

I’d just emerged from a sporting event and was utterly exhausted. Another friend (who actually reads my blog!) was there. She said “would you like to bring your woodsplitter over and get some free firewood for helping my husband cut up some trees?” I, of course, hyperventilated.

A chance to use my super awesome axle-upgraded woodsplitter?!? Be still my beating heart! I let out a sound more appropriate for a teenage girl and started babbling: “OMG! Ihavethecoolestsplitterandcan’twaittouseit! Squeeee!” I have no dignity… I accept that. Having capered around like an idiot for a while I remembered my physical condition, made appropriate excuses, drove half a mile and to the nearest bar, and sat there two hours soaking up air conditioning and rehydrating. (I said rehydrating… I was drinking iced tea dammit!)

When the weekend rolled around I carefully checked my chainsaw. Saws are finicky and I hadn’t used mine in a while. It started on the second pull. Awesome! I topped it off, hitched up THE COOLEST WOOD SPLITTER EVER, and rolled out. Mrs. Curmudgeon came too.

It was hot. Way hot. When we arrived Mrs. Curmudgeon detected air conditioning at my friend’s house and vanished. I stayed in the sun and hoped I wouldn’t melt.

Meanwhile my friend’s husband was explaining his saw wouldn’t start. Did I have any advice to coax it to life? I was no help at all. I opined sagely; “It seems like chainsaws either start right away or you’re doomed. After like five pulls just give up. Nothing will save you. No level of coaxing ever helps me. I’ve tried blowing off the flooded spark plug and all that… never works. Sorry dude, it’s all over for today. Try again tomorrow.”

Luckily I had an alternative; “My saw was running fine an hour ago.” He nodded and we prepared to assault trees. It was shaping up to be a good day. I was the possessor of an awesome splitter and a reliable saw. What a stud!

Predictably the universe intervened and my saw wouldn’t start. No particular reason… it did it just to piss me off. I had it coming.

So there we were, two men looking at a dead tree and embarrassed by two excellent, properly maintained, modern chainsaws that wouldn’t start; because the saws were being obnoxious! Damn! There was some wood just lying around. We split that in not time and I left the wood and woodsplitter behind for his use.

End result? My saw wouldn’t start. I might as well have been wearing a dress. I didn’t deserve firewood.

That evening I pondered the saw. It had been very hot. Maybe it cooked while riding in the truck bed and vapor locked? I dumped out the tank and left the cap loose. Then I took out the spark plug and left that open too.

The next day I returned. It started on the first pull. Have I learned something?

Meanwhile my friend had gotten on the interweb, found something about carboretors, and tuned his saw. Both saws were running like a champ. We were redeemed.

Even so it was hot and the truck’s AC beckoned. Yes, winter is coming but there’s nothing to be gained by getting heat stroke. Once I’d loaded up a truckload of split oak I was done.

The truck’s AC did it’s stuff and when I got home I was so pumped I cut up a bunch of stuff that’s been hanging around the backyard. (It’s still lying in a heap. The chickens are shitting on it.) I left that on the ground and stacked the truckload.

End result? Half a cord of really excellent wood, it was partially green but I think it’ll be sufficiently dry in a few months.

About Adaptive Curmudgeon

I will neither confirm nor deny that I actually exist.
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4 Responses to Woodpile Report: Round #2

  1. Mark Matis says:

    Friggin’ Yankees and their @&$)(@& Long Island Iced Tea…

  2. Robert says:

    No, no, the LIIT gets poured over the vapor-locked parts to condense the fuel. Sage advice from an old guy with fewer than ten digits: Sharp stuff first, then booze.

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