RIP Chudleigh

Thanks Britney for crying your crazy little eyes out for my sad sad news. It is with heavy heart and hushed typing that I sit before my computer and contemplate the recent departure of my good friend Chudleigh.
Saturday as I mucked out the garage I tossed everything that hadn't been used in several months on the lawn with a price tag on it. Chudleigh (read previous posts to find out about the fabulous life and times of the infamous Chudleigh) fit the criteria of not being used in several months and so I grabbed his arm and shoved him out onto the lawn with a $20 sticker on him. He sat there mouth gaping open excitedly as people passed by. He reminded me of a puppy in pet store front window. Someone asked about him and if he worked I said Yep! I gave Chudleigh a little bit of gas, primed him and he jubilantly puffed out a puff of white smoke and howled to life. When I pulled the handle to show how he could throw snow, he began belching clipped grass blades high up into the air as if to say "You want me to cut grass? I can cut grass! Watch! Are you watching? I can cut grass too! see! SEE! SEE!!!" Everyone around recoiled in fear. The guy that was interested was still looking at Chudleigh when Mandy walked by and said "He has a silly wife and I ran it without any mix gas" He looked around nervously like he had just noticed a sign at Taco Bell that said "Try our new burritos! Now with even less rat droppings!" He began backing up and he said "Um... I, Um... am going to think about it. I... I gotta go! I forgot about my nail appointment!" and he ran to his truck.
Later another guy approached me and asked in broken English "Your snow blower. Does it work?" I said "yes" I knew it had been run without oil, but for $20, I justified that he was still coming out ahead on the deal. I went over and started Chudleigh up. After being started earlier, I barely had to pull the pull start before he screamed to life. This gentleman was obviously impressed with the prowess of Chudleigh. A blank stare washed over his face as he envisioned lofting hundreds of backbreaking pounds of heavy snow back to where it came from... heavenward. He snapped back into reality and said "I'll take it!" I helped him load it into his van. his wife and his son were sitting in the van and they grimaced at the monster we were loading in.
I didn't let myself think about what I had done until I went and sat down. Then the remorse settled in. I just keep telling myself that he would have died on the first snow of the year when snowblowers were marked up 500%. Gonna miss ya Chudleigh!
I also sold my mountain bike. I haven't ridden that thing in years. It was worn out, the black paint was chipping off, it was very heavy and getting very old and antiquated in technology compared to it's sleek new predecessors. (I promise, I didn't steal those words from stedman graham) I didn't think much about that sale until I laid down at night and that part of my brain that really loves to mountain bike (that part of my brain is kinda hippie-ish. Wears Teva sandals and tie dye. has matted hair. Doesn't bathe alot. Begins every sentance with "DUUUDDDDEEE! has blood shot eyes and although he claims he doesn't smoke pot, his eyes are usually bloodshot, his room smells like incense and dirty feet and he giggles at things that were not necessarily meant to be funny. He is a little slow so it took him a while to realize what had happened) He burst out of his room as everyone was saying their good nights and retiring to their individual rooms. As he ran up and down the hall in a frenzied panic he was shouting "DUUUUDDDDDEEE! We sold the mountain bike Dudes! That totally sucks! DUUUDDDDDEEE what are we FREAKIN' gonna do now?" The historian spoke up and said "You haven't ridden that bike in over three years!" Hippie stared at the wall like he was watching a spider crawl up it. Then he said "Dude, I was like, doing stuff... and... things." His voice trailed off and he scratched at a gnarled lock in his dusty blond hair. Everyone let that idea soak in as they silently went to their own rooms. I decided that... Dude, that kinds does stink a little bit. Sold Chudleigh and sold the mountain bike. Especially when the financial analyst in my brain (which some argue is the same guy as the hippie) said as he peered over gold rimmed glasses and slapped his index finger on a graph that was labeled "Future Financial Outlook" and the graph showed a straight nose dive, plummet towards the ground. He said "Net Profits are falling like mafia informants to the bottom of the ocean with concrete shoes. Costs are up in every sector and with that hippie doing all of the schooling, we better say our prayers because this ain't gonna be pretty!" so... I guess I can get my excercise shoveling snow now rather than grunting up some mountain switchback trail. We are going to miss you two!