People who know me know that I tend to hang on to things and I’ve let the barn/garage become a pigsty of unfinished projects and bits and pieces of this and that.
I hate myself for this, inside there is a minimalist trying to get out.
So this long weekend I made a start in cleaning things up. During this labour I uncovered a chainsaw that I preferred to forget. It’s a Stihl 041av given to me a few years ago by my step father. He must have bought it in the early or mid seventies and it worked fine for firewood cutting. When he gave it to me, or I should say I asked for it when I saw it being thrown out, he told me that it just came back from the shop with the terminal sentence of not being fixable. Ha! I said.
I took it home and got the pull start mechanism mostly working and fired it up. Snarled like a beast and then stopped. Couldn’t pull start it, seemed to be seized. I looked in the gas tank and the liquid was clear. What the heck? What was in there? No oil mix for sure.
I was really disheartened. I felt like a pillock. I put the saw in the garage and tried to forget about it but it nagged at me. Today I uncovered it during my clean up and, in a perfect example of optimism over experience, I gave the cord a pull. It turned over. No way, could it be? Gassed it up with proper mix and it fired right up. What a noise, like a real chainsaw. And it has power, test cutting in maple it seemed to have more power than my old reliable Husqevarna 353. But boy is it heavy, yes much heavier than the husky and no chain brake. Sort of hell on wheels. A back up saw now, but for an old man like me it’s a tiring one.