I was twenty eight, had spent four years in the US Army and another four in college, and had gotten a great job as an engineer for an auto parts supplier in Tennessee. After another year of living in an apartment in one of the newer apartment complexes in town, I decided I didn't like having so many neighbors. I'd saved quite a bit in the Army and worked during college, so I didn't have any debt except for my car payment. After doing some figuring about my rent costs versus buying, I went looking for a house.
The realtor was very helpful. She started showing me houses in new subdivisions that were great houses. Most were on one acre lots, had at least three bedrooms and three baths, and half of them had in-ground pools. They also cost between two hundred and fifty to three hundred thousand. My job paid well, but not that well, and though I'd saved a lot of my salary, I couldn't afford a down payment that would result in a reasonable monthly payment. I finally had to sit down with her and explain I just wanted a small house in a quiet part of town that was in the range of fifty to seventy five thousand.
She wasn't really too happy about that. She told me houses in that price range were few and far between and usually required some work. I think her biggest reservation was that her commission wouldn't be quite as big. After explaining that I didn't mind doing some work if the house was basically sound, she said she'd do some looking and give me a call if she found something.
Two days later, she called me and said she'd found three and could I look at them that afternoon. There were no hot projects at the office, so I took the afternoon off.
On the way to the first house, the realtor explained it had been owned by a retired couple for thirty years. The husband had passed away and the wife was in a nursing home. Her son was trying to sell the house to pay for the nursing home costs. To sweeten the deal, he was selling the stove, refrigerator, and washer and dryer along with the house. Since I didn't have any of those, this house was really interesting.
It was what I suppose was called a bungalow when it was built right after WWII. It sat in the middle of a block of houses of the same basic design but with slight variations to make each one a little different from the rest. This one had a front porch and a dormer above the main floor that formed a narrow bedroom upstairs. The house was brick and had a full basement with windows on the sides.
Like all the other houses on that block, this house had two hard maple trees in front and two in back. The trees were huge, and kept the house in shade. There was a drive on one side that led back to a single car garage.
I liked the house. The rooms were relatively small, but still bigger than my apartment and the lot was small as well. I wouldn't have to spend all day mowing the yard. Flowers were never my thing, but there were flower beds in back. The realtor told me they were perennials, so I wouldn't have to do anything except weed them once in a while. When I said I liked the house and the neighborhood the realtor told me the price was eighty five thousand.
That was more than I'd intended to spend, and I could see there was some work that needed to be done, so I had her write up an offer for seventy. I didn't expect that offer to be accepted, but it was a place to start. She called me the next day, said the owner had accepted my offer, and asked if I'd come by after work so she could start the loan application.
My apartment lease was due to expire in a month, so I was in a bit of a hurry to get things moving. I asked her how long it would take. She said if my credit score was good, probably about two weeks. It actually took three, but a week before I had to either sign a new lease or move out we closed on the house. I called my brother in law to see if he could help me move. Between his pickup and our backs, I moved in on Thursday morning.
On Friday, I bought a lawn mower, gas can, and a rake. The grass hadn't been mowed yet because it was only April, but we'd had a lot of rain and it was starting to look a little rough. By the time I got the mower put together, it was five and I was hungry. The mower went into the garage and I went to the grocery store. By seven, I was eating a pizza and sucking down a beer.
That Saturday I filled the mower with oil and gas and fired it up. The front yard was done in about twenty minutes. I was starting on the back when my neighbor to the east came out of her house and pulled her mower out of her garage. She waved at me when I went by and I waved back.
She was maybe fifty or a bit older. She was dressed in loose jeans and a knit top, the same thing my mom usually wore around the house. I couldn't really see much of her figure, but I could see enough to know she was definitely not skinny. Her figure was full breasted with wide hips that tapered to a nice, but not small waist.
On my second round of my back yard, she was trying to start her mower, but she was having trouble. I watched her pull the starter rope six times and still nothing happened. She put her hands on her hips then and frowned.
When I was growing up, everybody in the neighborhood helped everybody else. It might have just been making sure their house was OK while they were on vacation, or it might have been helping to put up a garden shed, but all the families helped each other. I decided I'd introduce myself to my neighbor and ask if she needed some help.
She smiled when I walked over to where she stood. I grinned.
"Hi. Looks like you're having a problem. Need some help?"
She shook her head.
"My old mower is on its last legs I think. I hoped I could get another year out of it, but I suppose I'll have to go buy a new one."
"Well, maybe not. It might just be something simple. I'll have a look if you'd like."
She smiled.
"If you can fix it, I'll be happy. I didn't want to spend that much money right now."
It was an old mower, and once I got close to it, I could see it was in pretty bad shape. The deck was rusted through in one small place around the engine mount, and the starter rope didn't retract all the way. I also smelled gasoline. That probably meant there was no spark getting to the spark plug.
The spark plug wire didn't have a boot. There was just a clip that connected to the plug and the clip looked pretty corroded. When I pulled it off, it came off way to easy to have been making contact because the little jaws had spread apart. I thought I could probably bend them back into shape. I looked up at the woman.
"I think I found the problem. I need to go get a pair of pliers to fix it. I'll be right back."
Once I got the clip cleaned up and fitting tight again, I checked the oil level so I could make sure if the engine did start, it wouldn't seize up after running a minute or so. The oil looked dirty and needed to be changed, but it was full.
By then, the gasoline odor had pretty much gone, so I gave the starter rope a pull. The engine coughed and fired once, but quit. After two more pulls, it started running, but it would rev up and then slow down, rev up and slow down, over and over.
I knew a little about small engines because cars and engines had been my love since I was sixteen. The only thing that makes an engine rev up and then slow down is something blocking the main jet in the carburetor or an air leak that was leaning out the mixture. That was fixable, but I'd have to get a carburetor kit. After killing the mower, I said as much to the woman. She frowned.
"Well, it would be nice not to have to buy a new one, but I do have to mow. How much will it cost to fix this one and how long?"
"Not much for the kit, but it's Saturday so I won't be able to get one until Monday. I'm working all week, so it'll probably be next Saturday before I can get you running again."
She scratched one arm.
"I guess I need to call someone to mow then. My yard will look really bad in a week."
I looked at her frowning face framed by her dark brown, shoulder length hair and then decided.
"You won't have to call anyone. I'll take care of it for you."
She stuck out her hand.
"I'm Natalie Wade. Thank you so much. My other neighbor gets all up in a snit if mine doesn't look as nice as his."
Her hand was soft. Her grip wasn't. I smiled.
