Bounty Hunter
Addicted to ArboristSite
Here we go again...Another based-on-fact dumb story about what goes on in our garage...
“HE’S DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” shrieked a 200T, as now the cheery morning sunlight streaming through the garage door windows revealed what the darkness of night has held hidden…a sad sight, sitting forlornly on the workbench. A familiar outline, yet sad and pitiful…a once proud and respected 066 now alone, neglected, abused and rejected.
“HE’S BEEN DECAPITATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” True, 066 carcass was indeed headless. The cylinder head having been removed, leaving the connecting rod sticking grotesquely out of the crankcase like a graphic compound fracture.
“Oh come on now, we’ve all seen dead saws before. Get over it” the less-than-sensitive 660 said to the 200T, not willing to reveal to the jittery climbing saw that he too was unnerved by the sight, especially being a close relative. “Remember when the Boss bought you? And you were taken out of your box by the mechanic, gassed, oiled, and run for the first time? Did you see all the saws on those metal shelves with the little white tags on their handles? Those are sick saws. They are there to get fixed. But did you see all the saws UNDER the metal shelves? The ones with NO TAGS? They’re dead. They’re the ones that can’t be fixed or just not worth it to be fixed. They are dead saws that go to heaven”
“Where’s heaven?” asked a 260 Pro, who couldn’t see the dead 066 from where she was sitting…probably just as well, as she almost certainly would have hurled.
“I dun know” the 660 continued, but it’s this great place where all the saws are brand new again and your chain never gets dull. I think I’ve heard it’s in Oregon somewhere”.
The 200T was not okay. The sight of the dead saw, looking a lot like a thanksgiving turkey…after it’s been carved…was still sitting there. It didn’t look like it was going to heaven.
It was about this time that the saws saw another form, half hidden under a shop towel that they hadn’t noticed before…another dead saw.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE’S DEAD TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The 200T had seen the powerhead of a dead 440, stripped down to the crankcase, left there after air tools were needed to break free the clutch assembly.
“Geez, what IS going on around here?” Grampa 044 asked…clearly even in his long years he had never seen dead saws in the garage before. “The Boss has never hurt a saw” he continued, trying to make sense of the horrible scene…”The Boss has always been so good to us…cleaning, sharpening chains, buying us new parts when we need them…I just don’t understand this…It doesn’t make any sense”
The 260 Pro was the first to speak after a long, uncomfortable silence…”I’ve heard rumors there’s a Poulan graveyard behind the woodshed” she said. “Remember when one of the Poulans got run over by the wood trailer, and his bar got bent? Well the Boss went back behind the wood shed somewhere and came back with another bar… used bar, but it was straight. The other Poulans said that bar looked like the one from a Poulan that died”.
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions” the 880 finally spoke up. “I haven’t been here very long, but our new Boss is great. A lot better than my old Boss. Saw parts just get traded around sometimes. The Bosses have this thing they call FleaBay. So let’s not get too freaked out until we find out REALLY why the Boss is murdering chainsaws”
It was about this time I walked into the garage, surprised not to hear the usual banter going around…no “Good Mornings”, nothing but silence.
I grab the 200T and head for the door…
“DON’T KILL ME! DON’T KILL ME! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just about jump outta my skin…WHERE DID THAT COME FROM????
“What in the world is wrong with you now?” I ask the 200T…”You’ve always been a little jumpy, but HOLY COW! We have a tree removal Friday…I just want to check your air filter and sharpen your chain…what’s with this don’t kill me stuff?????”
“THEY’ER DEAD! THEY’ER DEAD! THEY’ER DEAD!!!!!!!!!!! HOW COULD YOU!!!!!!!!!
“Oh wow” I say…”So that’s what this is all about. You guys think those saws over there are dead. Well guess what, I bought those saws BECAUSE they were dead. The dealer guy didn’t want them, not even for parts. I bought them to rebuild them. To learn about how a saw works, and how to fix even the worst of problems. See that 066? His flywheel has every fin on the fan broken off. The cylinder and piston are scored, and the crank seals are toast. His rear handle is broken, held together with tape. His old owner found out what it would cost to fix him, and he didn’t want him no more. He bought a new saw.
Same thing with the 440…her cylinder and piston are fried, the crank bearings are shot, and her rear handle is busted too. It’s going to cost me more to repair both these saws than they are worth, but me and Mrs. Bounty Hunter want to learn about fixing you guys. Look in this box…We got new rear handles, an oversized big-bore cylinder kit for the 440, crank bearings, gasket kits, a Meteor piston, new dawgs, new muffler covers, new engine shroud, new flywheel, rim sprockets…wow…lot’s of stuff…some I got on ebay and some at Bailey’s. I gotta fabricate some special tools for splitting the…”
I caught myself before I finished describing taking the cases apart to replace the crank bearings…too much information on a sensitive subject.
“So guys, we need a little time, but you all are gonna have some new cutt’in buddies…when these saws are done, we all are going to the Grade Valley woods for some firewood cutting. It’s not Oregon, but it’s as close to heaven as I know”
“HE’S DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” shrieked a 200T, as now the cheery morning sunlight streaming through the garage door windows revealed what the darkness of night has held hidden…a sad sight, sitting forlornly on the workbench. A familiar outline, yet sad and pitiful…a once proud and respected 066 now alone, neglected, abused and rejected.
“HE’S BEEN DECAPITATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” True, 066 carcass was indeed headless. The cylinder head having been removed, leaving the connecting rod sticking grotesquely out of the crankcase like a graphic compound fracture.
“Oh come on now, we’ve all seen dead saws before. Get over it” the less-than-sensitive 660 said to the 200T, not willing to reveal to the jittery climbing saw that he too was unnerved by the sight, especially being a close relative. “Remember when the Boss bought you? And you were taken out of your box by the mechanic, gassed, oiled, and run for the first time? Did you see all the saws on those metal shelves with the little white tags on their handles? Those are sick saws. They are there to get fixed. But did you see all the saws UNDER the metal shelves? The ones with NO TAGS? They’re dead. They’re the ones that can’t be fixed or just not worth it to be fixed. They are dead saws that go to heaven”
“Where’s heaven?” asked a 260 Pro, who couldn’t see the dead 066 from where she was sitting…probably just as well, as she almost certainly would have hurled.
“I dun know” the 660 continued, but it’s this great place where all the saws are brand new again and your chain never gets dull. I think I’ve heard it’s in Oregon somewhere”.
The 200T was not okay. The sight of the dead saw, looking a lot like a thanksgiving turkey…after it’s been carved…was still sitting there. It didn’t look like it was going to heaven.
It was about this time that the saws saw another form, half hidden under a shop towel that they hadn’t noticed before…another dead saw.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE’S DEAD TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The 200T had seen the powerhead of a dead 440, stripped down to the crankcase, left there after air tools were needed to break free the clutch assembly.
“Geez, what IS going on around here?” Grampa 044 asked…clearly even in his long years he had never seen dead saws in the garage before. “The Boss has never hurt a saw” he continued, trying to make sense of the horrible scene…”The Boss has always been so good to us…cleaning, sharpening chains, buying us new parts when we need them…I just don’t understand this…It doesn’t make any sense”
The 260 Pro was the first to speak after a long, uncomfortable silence…”I’ve heard rumors there’s a Poulan graveyard behind the woodshed” she said. “Remember when one of the Poulans got run over by the wood trailer, and his bar got bent? Well the Boss went back behind the wood shed somewhere and came back with another bar… used bar, but it was straight. The other Poulans said that bar looked like the one from a Poulan that died”.
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions” the 880 finally spoke up. “I haven’t been here very long, but our new Boss is great. A lot better than my old Boss. Saw parts just get traded around sometimes. The Bosses have this thing they call FleaBay. So let’s not get too freaked out until we find out REALLY why the Boss is murdering chainsaws”
It was about this time I walked into the garage, surprised not to hear the usual banter going around…no “Good Mornings”, nothing but silence.
I grab the 200T and head for the door…
“DON’T KILL ME! DON’T KILL ME! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just about jump outta my skin…WHERE DID THAT COME FROM????
“What in the world is wrong with you now?” I ask the 200T…”You’ve always been a little jumpy, but HOLY COW! We have a tree removal Friday…I just want to check your air filter and sharpen your chain…what’s with this don’t kill me stuff?????”
“THEY’ER DEAD! THEY’ER DEAD! THEY’ER DEAD!!!!!!!!!!! HOW COULD YOU!!!!!!!!!
“Oh wow” I say…”So that’s what this is all about. You guys think those saws over there are dead. Well guess what, I bought those saws BECAUSE they were dead. The dealer guy didn’t want them, not even for parts. I bought them to rebuild them. To learn about how a saw works, and how to fix even the worst of problems. See that 066? His flywheel has every fin on the fan broken off. The cylinder and piston are scored, and the crank seals are toast. His rear handle is broken, held together with tape. His old owner found out what it would cost to fix him, and he didn’t want him no more. He bought a new saw.
Same thing with the 440…her cylinder and piston are fried, the crank bearings are shot, and her rear handle is busted too. It’s going to cost me more to repair both these saws than they are worth, but me and Mrs. Bounty Hunter want to learn about fixing you guys. Look in this box…We got new rear handles, an oversized big-bore cylinder kit for the 440, crank bearings, gasket kits, a Meteor piston, new dawgs, new muffler covers, new engine shroud, new flywheel, rim sprockets…wow…lot’s of stuff…some I got on ebay and some at Bailey’s. I gotta fabricate some special tools for splitting the…”
I caught myself before I finished describing taking the cases apart to replace the crank bearings…too much information on a sensitive subject.
“So guys, we need a little time, but you all are gonna have some new cutt’in buddies…when these saws are done, we all are going to the Grade Valley woods for some firewood cutting. It’s not Oregon, but it’s as close to heaven as I know”
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