A confession from many years ago!
I was working at the riding school I had learnt to ride at. One of the owners was pretty ancient and quite eccentric. She was the proud owner of an Allen Scythe equally as old as she was.
This machine was left under a shelter all winter, well wrapped in hessian sacks and a tarp over the top. Come spring t was time to launch the machine again. One thing you could bet your life on was that it would not start! Choke on or off, no matter how hard you pulled the chord, it would never even sputter.
This particular year a couple of relations were staying and had come to the stables to pick me up as it was my half day.
Dave, one of the lads was a mechanic and seeing problems he offered to help. When the boss realised he was a mechanic he was allowed to look at the machine and after a few minutes he said he would fix it the next day.
On the way home I told them the annoyance of the machine and how I wished it would run faster and not keep cutting out.
On the morrow he turned up and stripped the machine down to the frame. He then disappeared returning a couple of hours later with several bits and pieces.
It took him longer to put it together than to strip down but when he started it instead of grunting and groaning this machine purred.
When the owner came back from escorting a ride she rushed over to see if it had been fixed and when she saw that Dave had fitted a starter and a battery, she was overjoyed and rushed to change into her 'cutting kit'.
This was not a pretty sight, it consisted of a polo shirt which was fine but she never wore a bra and one young girl had remarked she could tuck her titties into her shorts.
Her shorts were anything but - they came down to her knees and were only an inch or two above her wellingtons.
She freewheeled the machine to the top of the triangle field, about half an acre of field all on a fairly steep slope. She pressed the button and the machine purred into life. She put it in gear and thumbed the throttle down.
Ever seen an elderly lady go down a hill doing 30 m.p.h? I have.
Every stride she took got longer and longer until each one was at least fifteen feet. `she was slowed slightly by the wind billowing her shorts out! Still she held on and somehow as she reached the flatter ground, she managed to turn it before it hit the hedge.
I will admit that we were all rolling on the floor laughing, no sympathy at all.
She drove the scythe up the hill throttle wide ope so that it pulled her up the slope and when she turned to go down again she was a lot lighter with her thumb.
I confess because it was me that told Dave the machine was to slow so he only did what was asked and speeded it up!