My Friend Doug—A Letter from Florian

I’m not a mechanic. Many years ago, after reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I came to terms with it. Patience is something I have to work on. I know I’ll never have enough of it to slip into blue overalls full-time. Although I’m mediocre at best at turning wrenches, the foundational knowledge is there. In theory, I should be an average mechanic, but as soon as the body panels come off, I develop two left hands. 

I’m not doing myself any favors by choosing to work during the wrong time of the year with the wrong setup. My south-facing garage hit a balmy 90 degrees inside by 10 a.m. There I was, kneeling on the concrete with sweat running into my eyes when the angle grinder slipped. It wasn’t that bad, but I know it would help to have a real workshop with proper tools.

Due to my self-imposed temporary abstinence from such fruitful labor, my vehicles aren’t as perfect as I would like them to be. After years of chasing perfection, I’m strangely okay with it. I’m not even ashamed—until Doug comes around.

Two years ago, we needed a lawn mower. Used is the way to go, so we scoured online listings until we found a decent-looking one and set up a meeting. When my wife and I arrived, we didn’t know what hit us. We were in a very wealthy neighborhood. Doug, the seller, had lined up three potential mowers for us, from the cheapest and most basic to the most expensive one with a twin-cylinder engine. His salesmanship and professionalism drove us directly to buy the best one. Doug buys, repairs, and sells riding mowers in his retirement, and he’s a master at it. When he delivered it a few days later, he also gave us printouts of all the part numbers, required maintenance, and so on. I knew that I would have to keep this mower in tip-top shape. There was no way I would let Doug down.

Fast-forward to late summer. One of the blades had bent, the belt had hopped off once, and although I had just changed the engine oil and fuel filter according to Doug’s instructions, I felt like I needed to call him for help. Doug responded within hours, as professional as always, and started peppering me with questions about my maintenance. With sweaty fingers, I messaged him that I’ve done everything according to the schedule, but I needed some help. Once he agreed to pick the mower up, Sarah and I cleaned the mower thoroughly. I bet there wasn’t a single piece of grass stuck to that mower. Correct tire pressure? Check. Clean air filter? Check. I did a whole mini service just so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of Doug.

The day of the pick-up, I was waiting with the mower angled so that light hit it just right. Doug walked up, and said, “The mower looks nice.” I was so relieved by his approval. 

You might not have a mower story like me, but I bet you have your own Doug—someone who makes you try harder, keeps you honest. Somehow, you need their approval.

This is the last month of our 25th anniversary year. We’ve given away a motorcycle. We met up and rode in Kingsport, TN. What’s in store for next year? We look forward to having you along for the journey, so you can find out.

Safe travels,

Florian Neuhauser
Publisher

P.S. Doug called me out for using a fuel filter from Amazon and said I should really stick with OEM parts. I was so close…