Good news everybody!

I realize many of you have been moping around a bit the past few months with the recent illness and liquidation of Chudleigh. I myself haven't been feeling very keen either. Well... all that has changed! It seems that people are dejunking their garages this time of year and snow blowers are falling into the category of items that have not been used in 6 months and so they are being sold. I found a Hahn Eclipse 4 stroke, 2 stage, 5 hp yellow beauty. For anyone that might not know what those things mean... the four strokes engines are quieter, turn slower and are more powerful than their two stroke compadres. 2 stage means there is a big set of churning blades on the front that feed a second set of blades that turn very fast and actually toss the snow out and loft it skyward back to where it came from. 5 hp means the motor is a 5 horsepower motor. All designed to let old man winter know that his snow is welcome anywhere but on my driveway. They stopped making them in 1973, so it is somewhere between 35 and 45 years old. I am not sure why they built this thing as tough as they did. It is built like a tank. A solid chunk of mechanised, brute force, harmony.

For the time being it is at my friend Shane's house in Farmington until it can find a ride up here. It had a broken pull cord, so I don't actually know if it works. I figure I have a good 4 or 5 months to tear it down, refurb it and make sure it is everything that keeps a snowflake up at night worrying.

Anthony's wife, Cheryl suggested that I call it Reggie because it regurgitates the snow. I like that name. But given the stout and robust attributes of the snow blower I pictured something like a marine drill sargeant and Reginald seemed more appropriate. Since I have not heard Reginald run yet, I don't feel very acquainted. Perhaps when we get comfortable with each other I can call him Reggie. So, Reginald is what I am calling him now, perhaps after some winter storm assaults us and we have to clear out 3 feet of snow and I am wheeling him into the garage on a pristine and clear driveway I will pat him on the head and say "Good work Reginald" and he will grumble in a gravely voice "Eh, you can call me Reggie". Until that day, I am strangely looking forward with uncharacteristic anticipation for winter to arrive. What is wrong with me? (Don't answer that)