Mar 14, 2013

Trout's New Toy- Polaris

I'm probably the nicest dog owner you know.  Really.  I'm not just tooting my own horn.  I'm tooting it for Trout, since she has issues typing.  But, I promise you, she's actually telling me what to write. Word for word.

Trout is now five years old.  We are at that stage in our relationship (ownership to some people) where the vet swore Trout would settle down and be a mild mannered chocolate lab who lays around the yard and only chases slugs.  You know, the dog you've always wanted.  Of course, he said the same thing when she was one about what would happen at the age of two.  Then at two about the age of four.  (Lying bastard.  If he wasn't a little cute I'd have ditched him long ago.)   She IS better.  That's not saying much.  In the last year she's broken two vehicle windows, killed a chicken, scared many children, and has shed a million hairs on my pillow.  It's not as romantic as it sounds.

So, when we moved back to Aurora and were again surrounded by acreage, I decided Trout needed a little more exercise.  I was thinking it would be cool for me to run her more.  And by "run her" more I mean just that, run HER (no way was I going running, I'd spill my drink).  I found just the toy for the job.  I recently bought a 2004 Polaris Magnum.  It's the field jetting king.  Of course, I'm also finding there are many differences between the BMW G650GS and the Polaris.  More than the obvious addition of two wheels.  Since I've bought this champ I've be reminded almost daily that yes, I am a blubbering idiot.  Here are just a few of my mishaps.

Day One:  Magnum is on the trailer and I'm trying to back it off.  Won't start.  Over and over and over, I turn the key, pull the choke, try the pull start, anything.  Damn thing hates me already.  Then I remember a buddy suggested I turn the gas off when I'm not using it.  Once I turned the gas on, Magnum purred like a kitten.

Day Four:  Magnum and I are in the back 40 and Trout is running ahead like a cheetah.  Really.  Magnum starts sputtering.  Damn.  That's a long walk. I start cutting through the field as Magnum sputters and stalls and lurches, finally stopping about 20 acres out.  Crap.  Um, yeah, you know that little knob that turns the gas on and off?  Also has a "RESERVE."  Once I turned the reserve on, Magnum took off like a cat on the 'nip.

Day Five:  I'm chasing Trout through the front yard (yea, I know, that's gonna leave a mark), when Magnum runs completely out of gas.  I hate procrastinating but I love not doing anything.  I grab a can of gas and proceed to pour it all over the seat since I'm apparently incapable of doing anything right. Damn!!!

Day Ten:  I post on Craigs List:  Wanted, a man with knowledge of motorcycles, ATV's, dogs, and home repairs.  Must be okay with constant "honey dos" and bar-b-que.   Must have job.  Scratch that.   Must have GREAT job or be independently wealthy. responses.  Damn!

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