Ron stood over his green John Deere riding mower with a socket wrench in his hand, tapping the yellow plastic air filter housing.

“She turns over fine, but she won’t catch,” Ron said, looking down at the engine.

“The dealer in town wants seventy-five dollars an hour just to pull the bowl off.”

Nate unzipped his jacket, knelt on the concrete floor, and pulled the rubber fuel line off the carburetor intake.

“Hand me that tin can on the workbench,” Nate said.

Ron reached over the wooden bench and passed down a cut-off coffee can.

“You think the gas went bad?”