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Where would we be without friends?

"My snowblower has trouble starting, too,"
Mark said.  "I just unscrew the plug and shoot in
some starting fluid."

Mark doesn't know that starting fluid is the stuff
religious people use to set themselves on fire
and blow up their underwear in public, but he says
it works, so I bought some starter fluid.

It worked.  My underwear caught on fire.

"That," I thought, "is not a good way to move snow",
although if your underwear is on fire, you do move snow.
I decided to replace the spark plug.

I couldn't even find it.  With the snow blower
hitched up to the lawn tractor, the hood will not open
far enough to see where a spark plug might be.
As it turns out, it is up there where you have to have
the hood open wide to see it.  I know, from having spent
a couple of days on the floor of the garage, trying
to get the mower off and the snow blower on,
that taking the blower off was not an option.

I removed an offending discharge snow chute instead.
I saved almost half-an-hour by doing it that way,
cutting the time down to eighteen hours.

Pieces kept falling onto the floor.

As it happens, the spark plug is in an old coal mine shaft
up at the right front of the engine, but that was no problem
after I bought a spark plug and thirty-five dollars worth
of ratchet extensions to reach into the coal mine shaft.

It still doesn't start right, of course.  It must not have been
the spark plug.  My guess it is the alfergated corroptive
distribution motherboard system that has corroded.
Either that, or something beyond my education and vocabulary.

It does start.  I will say that.  Reluctantly.

Mark may be right.  Maybe I should must remove the
discharge chute and use my new tools to take the plug out,
and spray some of that Jihad spray into the cylinder,
and then put the pieces back together again.

The snow will melt while I am doing that,
and I won't freeze my face and other things.
.

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