I got up early because I wanted to get to my Challenger swatther and prove to myself that I could service it before I ran it today. What good was I really if I couldn't service my own machine? I drove up to my new buddy- my big ole honking machine (i love things that make me look small but make me feel powerful) by 6:00 a.m., filled it up with diesel and then worked to learn how to turn on the air-compressor that would help me with an air-pressured grease gun. I had watched our mechanic do it several days before and I was certain I could figure it out. Well, I turned it on, pulled the cord, (okay it took me a lot of pulls to get the rhythm) found several other levers. Are these the gas, choke, what's this other little silver thing-a-ma-ghig? Called husband. He's a little put out with me for trying (he's always worried I'll get hurt) but he realizes I'm going to do it with or without his help -so he begins to describe to me what I'm looking at. Well, all I could do was try and low and behold --it started. The purr of that machine made me giddy, like I always am when I learn new things and conquer something previously unknown to me. I found all the grease zerks in the front of the header (husband says it's vital that those be greased regularly). I found all 6!! I'm on a roll. I can grease things and blow out things (because it has air-hoses attached too). I'm a pretty handy dud. Husband was surprised I didn't know this stuff already. He can't even take himself back there because he can't remember a time when he didn't know how to start a small gas engine. I told him there were still lots of buttons he pushed with me and he didn't have a clue what he was doing. He agreed. And he left me with my own self - gloating.