Craigslist Fair or Fiend? MAD MOWER (Part 1)

I have been using craigslist for many years to both buy and sell.
What I have found is, you really never know what or who you're going to get.

The purpose of this article is three-fold. It will contain a bad experience I've had as well as a good, to serve both as a word of warning and to show that sometimes friendships can be made at the least likely times. It will also act as a reference for later posts, since a good many of our recent projects were only possible thanks to the 'friend' from craigslist.

Starting with the bad: Mad Mower

I love my tools and try to take care of them as best I can, but far most among them is my chainsaw.

It brings back memories of a time when we were gearing up to move out here.
Back then I had a list of essential tools I deemed it important to acquire before we set out on our farmstead adventure. At the very top of the list was a good chainsaw.

At that time I saw in my minds eye the felling many trees... and a wilderness tamed.

Our allotment of funds was slim. Indeed most of the tools we bought were broken. But that's all we could afford, so I quickly learned the ins and outs of small engine repair.

That's when I saw it. A Vintage Powerlite.

Painted red and white, all metal save for the gas cap.
And at $80 I knew I was going to have to dig deep to get it.

I contacted him immediately. To this day, I'm not sure how I got the funds together.

We set a time and date and I received directions, though I was relying heavily on my old hand-me-down gps, so I wrote notes on his directions. The day arrived for me to head out after my tool of tools.

Down beautiful back country roads. Garman told me to take a right and I did, then a left... And another left.. and thats when it came into view. The bane of my professional life, being at that time a delivery man..

It sat there solidly, seeming to drip in fervor. That sickly shade of neon yellow the road crews are so fond of. Detour

My mental geography ended some miles back and the small gravel road the sign was pointing to more akin to a driveway then a road. It seemed unlikely to lead anywhere you would actually want to end up. It might as well have been the entrance to a labyrinth and, for the purposes of trying to vainly make a long story short, turned out to be no less. The gps, per usual when you need it most, did nothing but scream un-seesingly at me to, 'Please make a U-turn.'

I desperately pulled out the mall scrap of paper I had scribbled on paying only half a mind to what I was writing.. it ended up being a scribble of useless land marks now un-needed. The only information it provided was the house number and road name.

After 3 calls to the seller with no answer and trying to drive in an arc back to the original road, I found a little green sign with the name of Sprinkle Branch. I had found it! While I had no hope of ever finding my way back, I was relieved thinking the worst was behind me.

Finally turning on the right road, I came to a mailbox.

It sat at the bottom of a steep holler accessed by a long driveway. Up in the distance was a double-wide and a man mowing on a rider. As I pulled up I noticed, while the house and yard were respectable, to the left was a hodge podge of old tractor trailer boxes and mounds of trash. That didn't put me off as I had seen worse, though it was unexpected.

I hopped out with the excitement of a man nearing his goal.

The man drove over quickly parking his John Deere behind my truck as to block me in, which seemed odd.. but I brushed it off.

He was a thin man dressed in a blue mechanics jumper. He walked up to me, taking the long way around the far side of my truck, glancing in as he passed going slowly. He came to a stop about 6 feet away and stood, arms crossed.

We introduced ourselves without a handshake, also odd...

The smell of alcohol was strong enough to make you sick, but it was his eyes that caught my attention.

Deep set, glassy and unfriendly. I'm not one to turn my nose up to the occasional beer, especially at the end of a hard days work, but I had never in my life smelled that much on a man so early in the day, being just after 2 p.m.

And there was something in his eyes, stance and demeanor I didn't like. It made the hair on my neck stand on end.

He began by asking how much money I had on me because up at his house was brand new chainsaw for just $130 and I should come up and at least give it a look over. I could see the saw I came for sitting not far away by the door of one of his semi trailers.
I was not about to go in this unknown man's house, not least of all because it was all I could do to get together the $80 for "that old one," as he put it, but chiefly because he was clearly more than a bit drunk. Many times more than 2 p.m. called for regardless of the circumstances.

I politely declined, saying my heart and wallet was set on "the old one." He scowled, stomped over and said something foul under his breath. It was clear he was unhappy and planned on pressuring me to spend more than we had contracted. He told me what mix ratio to use and thrust the Powerlite at me..

At this point I was feeling very put off and already half wished I hadn't found this place at all.

I looked it over briefly as I was ready to pay and leave without another minute waisted. 'I'll take it,' I said.
'Ok, but there is a trick to starting it, here.' Walking up, he yanked it from me and said, 'All you do is hold down the throttle.'

We had long surpassed the smelling distance of the alcohol. He was now close enough that I could feel it on my face with no more room to back up as I was already pressed against the grill of my truck.

He proceeded to pull on the cord..

The saw roaring to life at full throttle less than a food from my left leg.

He looked up at me with a dark, mischievous, drunken grin. In that instant, my mind quickly sized up the situation. I could not out run him. He was in far better shape even drunkenly wielding a thirty pound powerlite. My truck was hemmed in by his mower. I was pressed against the grill and this mad man was pressing me in with a chainsaw winding out less than a foot from my left side...

The evil grin passed. He cut the saw off and after handing the money over, he left the saw at my feet and returned to his fevered mowing.

There and then I resolved to not only get my conceal carry permit, but to carry religiously because you never know who or what you will get on craigslist.

The trip home seemed to pass quickly and uneventfully as I was busy replaying what had occurred, the tightness in my chest ceasing with every mile.

All in all, I am thankful to have come out unscathed with a fine saw that has re-payed me many times over and is nearly with its weight in gold.

-'The Digger'