Wow I can't believe I forgot this. My dad set my brother and I up in our own roto-tilling business. I was probably 12 and he was 10. Our dad bought the tiller, a rubber stamp and a pile of note cards. We pasted those all over town and dropped them in mail boxes. My mom would drive us to the jobs. We would charge $10.00 per hour. I remember looking at that a big, red 5hp front tined beauty thinking this was my ticket to the big time.
After the first job, a little worse for wear but a crisp $20.00 in our pockets it was the high life for us...
..then there was a wake up call...the business had to be self sustaining...Had to payoff the rubbber stamp and of course transportation cost...fill up the gas can...better throw in an oil change once in a while...then there was the infamous per hour "tiller rental"...
My brother and I mulled over forming a union and going on strike...but shortly there after realized that the only thing that would get struck was us...so we toed the line...we tilled many, many gardens and prepared quite a few lawns all the while getting beat to pulp by that evil machine.
One day the competition showed up...some young entrapenour started advertizing "footprintless tilling"...I never did understand how that worked, but we adapted and offered the same by having my brother walk backwards behind me with a rake and level out the surface...
The red menace was churning along yanking my shoulders out of their sockets. What started as a good idea ended badly, after about a pass and a half my brother drilled me in the back with the rake handle one to many times?the fight was on?I let go of the crimson monster and engaged in all out war with my brother, the tiller, wide open throttle, still in gear and with nobody holding it back, climbed out of the furrow screaming, dirt clods were flying?the old ladys rose bushes were no more?after the battle was over so was the partnership...
That was over 30 years ago?I don't believe the tiller ever paid for itself, but it's still around, I see it once in a while the most recent, sitting in the garage of the last house my parents build...waiting for it's next victim?