I don't know how they did it, but they* managed to destroy the Black & Decker Weed Whacker.
The silly thing had only been running for about twenty seconds when there was a sickening sound like a wounded giraffe with his tongue stuck in his throat, and then a horrible burning smell like all the empty plastic jugs in the recycling bin melting at once, and then a mind-numbing sensation like all the money in my wallet flushing down the drain at the same time, and then it was over.
The motor was jammed tight.
Pulling the casing apart revealed that the filament had become wrapped around the base of the shaft just above the bearing, and subsequent (futile) revolutions of the shaft had generated sufficient friction to melt not only the filament itself, but also the casing which supported the shaft and bearing.
Time to buy another weed-whacker. And an instruction manual to go with it.
Quick. Before the grass reaches to our knees!!
________________________________
*They were notus anyone you know. Hired guns. Non-family. Mercenaries.
The motor was jammed tight.
Pulling the casing apart revealed that the filament had become wrapped around the base of the shaft just above the bearing, and subsequent (futile) revolutions of the shaft had generated sufficient friction to melt not only the filament itself, but also the casing which supported the shaft and bearing.
Time to buy another weed-whacker. And an instruction manual to go with it.
Quick. Before the grass reaches to our knees!!
________________________________
*They were not
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