Here is my effort.
I picked up the chain saw, checked the fuel and chain oil, set the choke and pulled the rip cord. It was an old machine without the dampening found on the new machines, but it would still cut, fall a tree and make firewood.
It certainly wasn’t a pleasure to run, however.
“Don’t know how people made a living with these old boat anchors,” I said allowed. It was a good thing I was only talking to myself for no one else could have heard me over the roar.
The vibrations ran up both arms jerking on elbows, shoulders and every muscle.
“She’d be a fine old girl for mixing a milkshake,” I said as I completed the wedge cut.
As I stepped around the tree to make the final cut I noticed the chain oil reservoir had a hole and was spraying more oil on me than was lubricating the chain.
“Damn,” I said. “Drop one tree and I’ll need a bath and all my clothes washed. Boots will be well oiled.”
With my attention on the oil leak I didn’t realize that the centre of the tree I was cutting was rotten and the wedge cut had weakened a tree that was about to fall without my help. It was falling opposite to the direction I had intended and right toward me.
Well, that’s how I wound up in this wheelchair.