My new wheelbarrow
Bear and I were out on our walk this morning when he began barking and growling at a foreign object on the sidewalk. The object of his rancor was an old wheelbarrow someone had discarded. It was sitting in the internationally understood position of "I'm tired of this damn thing, you take it." One of the handles was broken with the pieces thrown into the tray and the wheel was a little splayed.
Since I had been thinking about wheelbarrows moments before (I need to put down a layer of Dillo Dirt on my yard), I took the presence of the wheelbarrow as a sign. Then I took the wheelbarrow.
Walking eight blocks with a dog on a leash while maneuvering a disabled wheelbarrow is not an easy task. Fortunately we had already run quite a bit, so Bear was only tugging, not yanking. Now that I think about it, I probably could have attached his leash to the front axle and had an easier time, but hopefully I'll never have an occasion to find out.
We made it home after about 10 minutes and 10 strange looks from commuters. It will probably take me 10 weeks to finally fix up the wheelbarrow, but maybe I can get 10 years of service out of it after that.
Well, this project didn't really make it off the ground. I spent about an hour disassembling it Saturday so that I'd know what size handles to buy. In the process, I realized that the rust was worse than I thought, most (if not all) of the bolts would have to be replaced, and reassembly would require fashioning a new angle board to fit between the handles and tub.
Once I got to Home Depot and discovered I could buy the exact same wheelbarrow brand-new for $40, "my new wheelbarrow" became my new scrap metal.