The Party Never Ends at Three Geese Farm

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Cold, wet weather dominated much of January, slowing down progress here at Three Geese Farm on a number of projects. Still, we managed to make some headway. As always, there is no dearth of items to tackle, even as the trees lay bare and the grass brown.

Through a long-term loan, we acquired a 20-year-old side-by-side, aka UTV, that I am attempting to resurrect. I managed to pull it inside the shop with the tractor – a tricky endeavor I managed to complete unassisted without crashing into anything, slowly towing it with a canvas strap. Since this Kawasaki Mule has been sitting outside for more than a year, I decided it would be prudent to change out all the fluids and filters. Here is what I did, unaided:

• Changed the oil and filter. This required a Facetime call with brother Gregg to make sure I was actually pulling the oil-drain plug and not, say, the transmission fluid plug. Longtime readers may recall me recounting having done that to a Toyota Corolla while in graduate school, which resulted in me having to fork out hundreds of dollars to rebuild the transmission. We both agreed that the plug I showed him was indeed the oil drain plug.

It was not the oil drain plug. I pulled out that rubber plug and nothing came out. I quickly put it back and consulted YouTube. Since the entire undercarriage of the Mule is caked in mud, finding the actual plug took a while. The Mule was up on jack stands, with two thick pieces of black walnut beneath the rear wheels for safety. (Old Man Crushed by Mule would not be a pleasant headline.)

Doing mechanical work is not my favorite activity. At least the invention of thin, black disposable gloves makes it more tolerable. I am an admitted wimp and do not like to get my hands dirty or dinged. My rationale is that I largely make my living with these fingers banging away on a keyboard and prefer to keep them all intact and operable.

• Replaced the fuel filter, air filter, fuel pump, and spark plug. I consider these monumental accomplishments, since my ignorance of such matters knows no bounds. I bought a kit online that had all these gadgets, so it was a matter of figuring out where they existed on the Mule. Again, lots of time spent on YouTube.
• Drained the gas tank, figuring water almost certainly had infiltrated the tank in the months the Mule sat outside. I borrowed a hose syphon from my brother-in-law. This is an ingenious gadget. It’s several feet of clear, plastic hose, with a couple of ball bearings inside a brass fitting on one end of the hose. The ball bearings create a one-way valve so fluid can flow out the tube but not flow back into the tank. All you do is shake the ball bearings until the gasoline fills the tube and starts emptying into the five-gallon bucket I was using.

This certainly is preferable to the old-fashioned way of siphoning gas, which involves sucking on one end of the tube and hoping one doesn’t get a mouthful of gasoline. That happened to me once in my callow youth. It was not pleasant.

Finally, I charged the battery once the old gasoline was safely disposed of, and the tank refilled with fresh ethanol-free gas. I cranked the Mule, which willingly turned over but stubbornly refused to start. (It is called a Mule for a reason.) I then contacted my trusty mobile mechanic, having quickly reached the end of my abilities. I am confident he will get the Mule up and running in short order. At least I have eliminated all the obvious obstacles to it running.

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A few days later, it was time to tackle another project. We were about to have a large greenhouse delivered (more on that in future installments). Several tree limbs needed to be pruned so they wouldn’t scrape the greenhouse’s roof as the delivery fellow pulled it up to its designated location. I had already built a pad out of crushed limestone and bought a couple dozen concrete pads so he could level the greenhouse.

Trimming the limbs, most about a dozen feet high, required the assistance of my Beautiful Mystery Companion. She pulled out the tractor, while I grabbed the limb loppers and climbed in the tractor bucket. (Kids, don’t try this at home.) While I held on, she slowly raised the bucket so I could reach the limbs, all the while trying not to lose my balance and fall out of the bucket.

My BMC whipped out her phone and both photographed and videoed my efforts. I’m not sure why, maybe for proof to collect on the life insurance policy?

I survived unscathed, and the greenhouse is in place. Work remains before both it and the new chicken coop are operational. The road goes on forever, and the party never ends out here at Three Geese Farm.

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