Ready, Set, Snow

After living in New England for over twenty-five years, we’ve finally done something we should have done long ago. We bought a snow blower, or as they seem to be called these days, a “snow thrower.” We’d talked for years about buying one with our next-door neighbors, with whom we share a lawnmower. With two not-so-good backs between our neighbor’s home and ours, not to mention all of us getting a little older, we decided now was the time to finally bite the bullet.

Last year pretty much decided it for us. We were fine handling a few inches of snow, especially the light powdery kind that could be practically blown away with a slight puff of the mouth. But the wet, heavy stuff was a totally different story. And just when we cleared it away, another storm came, testing our patience (and backs.)

Though I’m glad we made this purchase, I have to admit to being a little intimidated. I’m most comfortable with uncomplicated tools—a regular rake, old-fashioned hedge clippers, plain pruning shears. As much as I hate shoveling with my standard gear, I like how it requires nothing more than grabbing my shovel (assuming I can find it behind the bikes and bags in the shed.)

Unlike my $10 plastic shovel, this snow thrower is one serious machine. Ours is a two-stage 9 horsepower model that handles up to 8 inches of snow, clearing a swath 30 inches wide. It weighs over 200 pounds. It comes with a 99 page manual, complete with diagrams and detailed instructions. There are seven paragraphs listed under preparation, and 26 points of instruction under operation, maintenance and storage.

It’s definitely going to take some work for me to get comfortable with things like “choke on and off,” “throttle,” and “auger clutch.” And I’ll need to review the concepts of “engage” and “discharge.” One thing I’m particularly grateful for—the “dead-man control” that stops everything when the handlebar grip is released. Some of the symbols are friendly, though. There’s a silhouette of a turtle (for slow), and a rabbit (for fast). It gives me hope that I may eventually master it.

We did a test run on the remnants of that early dusting. There we were, huddled around the menacing metal monster, flipping through the manual, making sure we knew when to push in the safety key and turn on the clutch. I matched up the little symbols with the big machine, trying to get to know it, to get comfortable, to make it my friend.

We hauled it out again just in time for that wild December 9th snowstorm. It was challenging indeed maneuvering in the midst of gusting winds as snow filled my eyes. And I was more than a little concerned about pushing 200 pounds of metal as I saw the sky light up, bright as neon, and heard the distant sound of threatening thunder claps. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew my Columbia rubber boots would probably not save me. I watched though, in awe, as a steady stream of white blew up high into the air leaving a glorious path of pavement in front of me. It was a thing of beauty.

So this winter, as in years past, we will eagerly watch the weather channel for the latest news. We will listen intently to reports of blizzards and Nor’easters heading our way. But we will have no fear. We are equipped, ready. Like our kids, we will be praying for snow. To Mother Nature we have just one thing to say. “Bring it on.”

(This column was originally published on townonline.com December, 2005)