I turned the key again--dead silence.
Not even a click.
I was afraid of this. My "new" used Massey-Ferguson 135 tractor had died the day before in our meadow. I thought it needed a new battery. So I bought one in town on Tuesday and bro-in-law Dave Rudie, Zick, and I walked it out to the stranded hunk of metal.
But after putting the new battery in, the tractor's condition did not improve.
I said bad words.
Julie said: "It's too old to have a bunch of Naderisms isn't it?"
I said: "It's got to be a bad starter."
Dave said: "On an old car that won't start, sometimes, if you tap the starter, it starts!"
Me: "Dude, get tapping!"
Dave tapped. Nothing. He tapped more and I jiggled the high-low speed shift.
The tractor turned over and roared to life, clouds of blue, stinky smoke billowed out the back.
Smiles and high fives all around.
Now I'm not exactly sure if it was Dave's brilliant mechanical technique or my shifting of the high-low gear into LOW, but I'm just glad the dang tractor is alive once more.
I spent the evening mowing, racing the sun around the brushy meadow. I got the tractor (which still needs a name) back to the garage just as the last cardinal was departing the feeders for his nighttime thicket.
The meadow looked so nice this morning. Will post a photo of it here later tonight.