The Land — By now, some of you ice anglers undoubtedly have solved the mystery of just what makes a fish bite.
I have wrestled with a far greater puzzle: What makes the gasoline-powered ice auger that worked so perfectly last February now refuse to run.
Earlier this week, I smelled not-so-faintly of gasoline and two-cycle oil, my elbow aching, my disposition not-so-rosy and the score stood at 1-0, advantage: Christine, the ice auger.
I had retrieved the machine from my backyard shed, figuring to get it up and running by the time the ice finally got thick enough to coax this coward onto an area lake.
Now, the battle to get the cantankerous two-stroke running has always been an annual event that follows a familiar pattern.
(And lest anyone think this annual trial is the resort of not performing due diligence, I religiously clean the machine, add fuel preservative and run it through the fuel system, fog the cylinder, etc., before putting it way for the season.)
Out in the driveway, I pulled a half-dozen times, choke-on and choke-off, and any combination there of, but the stubborn Tecumseh refused to pop.
I dutifully checked the plug — it was replaced last year in mid-season — for spark. A bright blue arc jumped from the electrode when I pulled on the starter rope. No problem there.
I poured a bit of raw fuel directly into the carburetor, let it settle in for a moment, choked the engine, and after a few pulls, the engine sputtered to smoky life just long enough to run through that slug of gasoline before sputtering dead.
I repeated the procedure, this time with the choke off, with similar results.
A mechanic I am not, but the workings of a two-cycle engine aren’t exactly rocket science.
But for whatever reason, fuel was not getting pumped from the tank through the carburetor and into the combustion chamber.
But I wasn’t too worried, though, and perhaps this is where the real mystery in all of this comes to play.
In past years, after a couple of exasperating sessions of wrestling unsuccessfully with the engine, I’d park it in the garage.
Somehow during this time, it always managed to exorcise its own demons.
So on Friday, I once again took the machine outside. Magically, on the first tug, the motor burbled to life in a fragrant cloud of blue smoke and revved happily as I blipped the throttle.
What’s more, I have no doubt Christine will start easily and run faithfully for the rest of the season.
I’ve got my own theory of why each year this occurs.
The logical side of me suggests that a bath of fresh fuel needs to soak through the fuel rail, somehow revitalizing the fuel pump diaphragm enabling it once again to move gasoline through the system.
But I wouldn’t rule out a little black magic, either.
John Cross is a Mankato Free Press staff writer. Contact him at (507) 344-6376 or jcross@mankatofreepress.com.
