My lawn tractor is six years old. Before a mouse chewed through the wiring to the display that logs the hours the engine has been in use, it had clocked 11 hours - a mere 1.83 hours per year. That is because after the first season, the damn thing would never start again without Sears sending a mechanic to my house. Sears has a handful of technicians and sells hundreds of lawnmowers, so sometimes I would have to wait almost six weeks for someone to show up. My grass would be three feet tall and my attitude would be evil. I purchased the extended warranty but in reality I had paid Sears a LOT of money in advance so I could mow once a season - sometimes twice.
This year the Universe took great pity on me and sent a mechanical miracle, a man with an affinity for the combustion engine. He came to my house, hauled the machine to his temple of lawnmowery and healed that cursed tractor! It starts every time I turn the key now. This amazing wizardry cost a mere $125!
Oh, what wonders the Y chromosome has wrought to roam this destructive and dangerous planet: men, evolved beyond hunting and gathering to the art and sorcery of the combustion engine... men who have trailers and time and reasonable rates. Womankind cannot thank you enough!