Not to mention that I have this hour sold the old Dixon ZTR 4421 for the asking price.
Bless internet classified ads. Bless the few remaining back-yard mechanics who like to tinker with machinery which "needs a little repair." (That phrase is usually one of the Three Great Lies, but at least in this case I described every flaw I could think of in the old girl. She was, by the way, the last of three or four Dixons who contributed to the respectability of the Camp J Greensward.)
Now, off to beautify the weedy patch where she has idled away the seasons since before anyone ever heard of the Tea Party.