Help was on the way. I rushed to the backyard hoop garden to uncover the rototiller. Each year after tilling the garden, I wait for the engine to cool off, then wrap a large blue tarp around the machine and tie it with a sturdy cord. As if unwrapping a long-anticipated Christmas present, I impatiently untied the knot in the cord and pulled the tarp off. I worried that this would be the year the ancient machine would finally give up its ghost. Although I generally only work the garden soil each spring, this old rear-tine rototiller does such an excellent job, that my garden thrives each year.

Tugging and rocking the unwieldy machine, I moved it out of the corner where it had been stored since last spring. I wanted there to be room around it to pour in fresh gasoline and to pull the starter cord. The minute the engine was started, I planned to grab the handlebars and till the hardened soil.

When I was younger, I could start the tiller myself. But each spring for the last several years, I’ve failed. I can’t pull the starter cord fast enough. This year I decided not to even try. I called someone for help. When the volunteer arrived a few minutes later, he pulled the cord twice and the faithful old engine powerfully awoke from its year-long nap.

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