MOW, BABY, MOW
The secret life of a Worthington lawnmower repair shop
Technician Barry Fuller has been fixing broken trimmers, chain saws and leaf blowers for 25 years at Roush Worthington Lawn Mower at the city’s extreme western edge.
And while he can diagnose and repair the carburetors, gears and belts of Stihl and other portable machines without much thought, there are a few that stump him, usually brought in by commercial users.
It is on those days when Fuller can enter full-tirade mode, firing off a fusillade of foul language while staring menacingly at what’s left of an abused motor.
“I don’t want to have to fix this,” he said recently of a battered, gas-powered leaf blower, as his pit-bull mix, Shadow, gazed up at him.
Shadow is a fixture in the shop, following — and calming — his owner while entertaining customers by dropping chew toys at their feet.
The business, adjacent to busy railroad tracks, dates back to the Richard Nixon administration when it was L & L Lawn Mower, co-owned by David P. Landes. It later became part of local chain Roush Hardware and was managed by Landes’ son, Dale, who died from cancer last month at 53.
These days, Dale’s wife, Betsy
Landes, and their daughter, Hannah, 21, manage the controlled chaos of scheduling, supply flow and calming customers.
Here, as lawns and shrubs are springing to life, hundreds of repairs await, as do often impatient customers.
Betsy Landes keeps watch over ordering parts and invoices. She checks in with Fuller and several full- and part-time repair technicians, including apprentices.
The task can be efficient, humming along like a newly oiled Briggs & Stratton engine. But it also can be as thorny as an overgrown backlot, in this case jammed with dozens of mowers that are lined up for service, some needing simple adjustments, others major overhauls.
The commercial users can be a challenge, she concedes, validating Fuller’s demeanor.
“Those guys usually trash their equipment. It’s beat up. It’s low on oil. It’s run over.”
Standing next to Fuller is Mike Koob, 66, who wheels in his next “patient,” a Black & Decker, 60-volt electric mower that starts but then stalls out after a few seconds.
He guides the wheels onto a steel platform, pulls a lever and the hydraulic lift raises the machine to eye level.
The lifts were originally used for motorcycle repairs at another Roush location.
“We don’t know much about electric,” said Koob, a retired industrial arts teacher from Reynoldsburg City Schools.
As Koob ponders his next move, Fuller is glaring at the business end of the leaf blower, wondering why it’s even needed.
“They’re using it to blow grass trimmings,” he says gruffly as Shadow tucks his head and walks slowly to his bed.
Landes explains that turnaround times in the spring typically run three to four weeks. But Fuller’s customer wasn’t quite so patient.
“This guy wants it back today,” she said.
Residential customers generally are more understanding and respectful of the process and the shop’s history, she added.
“We’re kind of an institution,” Landes said. “I’ve had people come from Delaware, Pataskala and Reynoldsburg, remembering visits with their parents or grandparents. It’s, like, generational.”
Derek Brainard, 63, was cleaning out his Westerville shed and came across a vintage Lawn-boy that his wife, Kathy,
owned before they were married almost 35 years ago. Now using a lawn tractor on his 2-acre property in Westerville, he figured it might be useful for mowing smaller areas.
Having grown up in Worthington, he remembered the shop.
“It’s been there so long, I figure they’re doing something right,” Brainard said.
He hasn’t tried to start the Lawn-boy for decades.
“I figure it needs a going over before I use it again,” he said.
Koob thinks he knows why Brainard and others keep such machines.
“People that own Lawn-boys just love them,” he said. “It’s like having a classic car — you’ll do anything to keep it running.”
Machines that can’t be fixed are returned or salvaged.
Koob, stumped by the electric Black & Decker, found one of the blades mounted backwards. That might have caused the motor to burn out, especially in long grass, he said.
He finally called the owner with the
bad news. But his scowl turned to a smile when he returned.
“It turns out that the customer doesn’t care that it doesn’t work. So I will wash it and sharpen the blades (before the customer picks it up),” Koob said, a bit baffled at the response, but noting: “The customer is always right.”
Nearby is Bill Christiansen, 74, the oldest employee who was a helicopter mechanic in Vietnam and a longtime maintenance worker at Ohio State University. He power washes a Toro self-propelled mower in a cleaning bay.
The youngest worker, Robert Brenot, 27, is a Worthington High School graduate who thrives here, sharpening blades with a bench grinder and removing deep-seated dirt from a cylinder with a high-pressure air compressor.
“I just love working with my hands and mechanical things,” he said. “I hate working at a desk.” dnarciso@dispatch.com @Deannarciso