The telephone rang. I knew whether or not they could hear me was going to be a crapshoot. The coverage at my location was just a small hair above poor. But who knows? Those small engine shops’ phones might always sound like the other guy is cutting in and out. “Yello.” “Yeah, hi, do you folks buy for parts?” I said. “Mmm hmm,” the man responded. “What have you got?” I explained the make and model of my little-engined device. He said they would take a look so I changed directions and headed their way. Weston was asleep in his car seat, or at least incredibly adorable. I got the machine out first after I parked, then grabbed out his car seat. We went inside. The attendant was engaged in a conversation about how chainsaw chains last much longer if properly maintained than salesman try to tell you they do. You can sharpen them a number of times. Don’t let them talk you into a new chain. Etc. How the sharpening was $18, $19 and change with the governor ripping you off. Then it was a conver
The stories of a man working hard to achieve financial peace.