I Can’t Start It Anymore

October 2026

Twenty pulls. I counted every one. Choke on, a bit of throttle, a pull. Choke off, another pull. The same routine I’d done since the Whitlam years, and by the end my shoulder was letting me know about it and the saw hadn’t so much as coughed.

So I sat down on an upturned bucket in the shed and got my breath back. And I’ll be honest with you, I felt every one of my seventy-four years.

The saw and the jerry can, right where I left them that day.

I can still prune. I’ve looked after this garden since we bought the place in 1983. Getting the thing started was what beat me. The cord had been fraying for years, and so had I, probably.

Jan came out to see what all the swearing was about. She took one look at me on the bucket and said, “That’s enough of that.” She was right, which I didn’t tell her at the time.

The cord had been going for years. I just kept pulling it.

The garden got away from me

That was the start of winter. A storm in June brought a big limb down off the old mulberry, and it lay across the back lawn for six weeks. I had to mow around it. The bottlebrush along the side fence grew out over the path, and Jan had to duck to get to the clothesline.

Every time I walked past, I’d think, I’ll get to that. Then I’d remember the twenty pulls and find something else to do.

I’ve looked after this garden for forty years. It’s a funny feeling, watching it get away from you.

Jan said, “Get a man in.” I didn’t want a man in. I’m the man. But I rang one anyway. He came, he had a look, and he gave me a quote that made my eyebrows go up. Then he said he could come in about five weeks.

Our son-in-law offered to bring his saw “when he gets a free weekend”. He’s got three kids and a mortgage. I know how many free weekends that is.

Nobody tells you it’ll be a pull cord. One day you just can’t do the thing you’ve always done, and the garden doesn’t wait around while you get used to the idea.

Jan found it on her phone

One evening Jan held her phone out to me across the couch. “Have a look at this.” It was a little battery chainsaw I hadn’t seen before. I’ll admit my first thought was that it looked like a toy.

But I had a proper read, and a couple of things stuck. No pull cord. No petrol, no two-stroke mix. You press a button and squeeze the trigger, and it goes. And it only weighs 1 kg, so you can hold it in one hand.

I said I’d think about it. Jan ordered it that night. Forty-three years married, she knows how long I take to think about things.

It’s a 6″ Mini Chainsaw. It weighs 1 kg, lighter than a bag of sugar. No pull cord and no petrol: you charge the battery like a phone, clip it in and press the button. It cuts branches up to 10 cm thick, and the kit comes with two batteries, a fast charger, a spare chain and gloves. See today’s price ↓

The first cut

It came on a Wednesday. I put the batteries on charge on the kitchen bench next to Jan’s phone, which she thought was very funny.

Thursday morning I went out to that mulberry limb. I put the gloves on and set the first section up on the sawhorse, at about knee height. I clipped the battery in. Then I pressed the power button and squeezed the trigger. You have to do both at once, so it can’t go off by accident.

No cord to pull. Press the button, squeeze the trigger.

And it just went. No cord. No choke. No cloud of smoke. It was much quieter than the old petrol saw, too. I put it to the limb and it went straight through, and I laughed out loud on my own in the backyard.

I had that limb cut into firewood lengths before morning tea. Then I went round the side and took the bottlebrush back off the path, standing on the paving and working at about chest height, so Jan can get to the clothesline without ducking. My shoulder didn’t say a word about any of it.

Up close, it’s a proper little chain. I’d expected something flimsier.

Jan came out with two cups of tea and stood on the back step with her arms folded, the way she does when she’s pleased and doesn’t want to make a fuss about it. “Well,” she said. That was all. Forty-three years, and I know exactly what “well” means.

What happened to the big saw

The old petrol saw is still on the bench in the shed. I keep meaning to give it to the bloke two doors down, who reckons he can fix anything. He’s welcome to it. The new one sits on the old timber bench by the back door, where I can grab it when I see something that needs doing.

I don’t miss the old one, least of all the cord. These days, when something needs cutting, I just go and cut it. One button, and it’s going.

Twenty pulls on the cord and nothing. That was the day I gave up on the big saw. I’m still out in the garden most mornings.

The saw I use

Weighs 1 kg, lighter than a bag of sugar. Made for one-handed use.
One-button start. No petrol, no pull cord.
Cuts branches up to 10 cm thick.
The kit has 2 batteries, a fast charger, a spare chain, tools and gloves.
30-day money-back guarantee and a 90-day warranty.

Trusted by 20,000+ Aussie Gardeners.

6” Lightweight Mini Chainsaw Kit + 2 Free Batteries

~~$240.00~~ $119.99 SAVE 50%

Only 1 kg. Lighter than a bag of sugar, and made for one-handed use.
One-button start. No petrol, no pull cord, no fuss. Charge the battery like a phone.
Cuts branches up to 10 cm thick. The kit has 2 batteries, a fast charger, a spare chain, tools and gloves.

Shipped express from our Brisbane warehouse, arrives in 2 to 6 business days

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