Last summer, I was mowing the lawn when I heard a sudden pop—the kind of sound that immediately makes you stop walking and think, “Well… that’s not part of the plan.” The engine kept running, but the mower stopped pulling itself forward. The self‑propelled feature—the entire reason I like this mower—was done.

I’ve had this Toro self‑propelled mower for about ten years, and up until this moment it had done everything I asked of it. It always starts right up and does a great job. The rear wheels are powered, so when you push the handle, the mower moves at the same pace you’re walking. Anyone who’s ever pushed a heavy mower uphill knows this feature makes a huge difference.

Naturally, my mind went straight to worst‑case scenarios. Something internal. Something expensive. Something that would involve loading the mower into my truck and having a professional shake their head sadly at it. Rather than investigate mid‑mow, I shut it down, grabbed another mower, and finished the yard.

A few weeks later, I finally flipped the mower over to take a look. Over the years I’d kept up with the usual maintenance: oil changes, blade sharpening, the basics. But I’d never really given much thought to how the self‑propelled system actually worked. It had always worked, which felt like a perfectly reasonable reason not to question it.

After watching a few videos online (and realizing I was far from alone), I learned that the drive system relies on a belt hidden beneath a plastic guard. That belt transfers power from the engine to the rear wheels. Which is great, unless that belt is worn out and no longer interested in doing its job.

Once I removed the guard, the problem was obvious. The belt was badly worn and had slipped completely off the drive wheel. The popping sound I heard earlier was almost certainly the belt giving up on life. I even found it wedged somewhere it clearly wasn’t meant to be.

Getting the belt loose took some effort, but once it was free, I ordered a replacement. Installing the new belt turned out to be more challenging than I expected. Being inexperienced with mower repairs, I probably took apart more of the mower than was strictly necessary, but I walked away with a new appreciation for its design. I made sure to take plenty of photos along the way so I could remember where all the nuts and bolts belonged.

Since I already had the drive assembly apart, I decided to replace a broken plastic guard as well. At some point, a stick must have gotten caught underneath and cracked it. The replacement part was reasonably priced and showed up a few days later from Toro’s website, which felt like another small win.

All told, it was a simple fix. The hardest part was removing the plastic shields, mostly because several of the bolts had been swallowed by years of dried grass and dirt. Other than that, no special tools, no repair shop, and no new mower. Just a worn belt—and the satisfaction of knowing this mower is ready for many more summers of pretending lawn care is fun.

Thanks for reading!
-Mike

Owning an anvil isn’t something most suburban homeowners ever anticipate—much less their significant others. There’s no practical modern need to “forge medieval tools,” yet it’s hard to argue with a piece of equipment that has already outlived several generations of perfectly sensible purchases.

I’ve inherited several tools over the years, ranging from everyday hammers and wrenches to two very serious pieces of equipment: a giant anvil and a kick vise. Both belonged to my great-grandpa, Andrew Verlo, a farmer and profound hobbiest in northern Iowa who was known for tinkering with just about anything.

Andrew wasn’t afraid to innovate and experiment. He once took an old Jeep and turned it into a tractor, built many of his own woodworking tools, and even took up aviation later in life — learning to fly for fun at the age of 50.

I’m sure Andrew had many important uses for the anvil, such as sharpening tools, repairing machinery or fabricating parts. I’m not so sure about this photo below. I guess it was a 1940s “feat of strength.”

The anvil came into my possession a few years ago when my Aunt LaVaune, Andrew’s daughter, gave it to me. It was at the same time she gave me his antique steam whistle.

Anvils are fantastic tools — but they’re not exactly convenient. I wanted the anvil to live in one place, yet still be easy to move when I needed it and tuck away when I didn’t. I also inherited another heavy piece from Andrew: a kick vise that tips the scales at well over 100 pounds.

If I was going to use these tools regularly, I needed a better solution than Andrew’s strategy of lifting it over his head.

A Little History on the Anvil

The anvil itself is a Peter Wright, stamped with the numbers 1-0-3. Those numbers aren’t random — they indicate the weight using the old British hundredweight system:

• 1 hundredweight = 112 pounds
• 0 quarter-hundredweights = 0 pounds
• 3 additional pounds

That puts the anvil at 115 pounds.

After a bit of research, I learned it was made in Dudley, England, likely in the late 1800s or early 1900s. Knowing that made me appreciate it even more. This wasn’t just a tool — it was a piece of history that had already lived a long, useful life before it ever made its way to our family.

Building the Cart

To make everything practical, I decided to build a rolling cart that could hold both the anvil and the kick vise. I sketched out a simple plan on paper, then headed to Menards with a shopping list that included 4x4s, 2x4s, 2x8s, screws, and carriage bolts.

I ordered a set of heavy-duty retractable caster wheels online. When I’m using the anvil, the wheels lift off the ground so the cart sits solidly on the floor. That keeps everything stable while hammering and prevents damage to the caster bearings.

Mounting the anvil gave me a chance to reuse some old materials. I found scrap steel from the old garden planter and used it to secure the corners of the anvil to the base. I built the cart so the top of the anvil was at knuckle height, which I found to be an ideal height for working. I mounted the kick vise on top of the cart, and I added a middle shelf to hold my air compressor. A hook for an extension cord and a few drilled holes for tool storage rounded things out.

How I Use It Now

I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out. I use the cart for copper soldering, grinding steel, and anything else that benefits from a solid, movable work surface. When I need space or better airflow, I can roll it to the center of the garage or just outside. When I’m done, it stores neatly in the corner of the shop.

Andrew passed away in 2008, just shy of his 100th birthday. Every time I roll this cart out and put those tools to work, it feels like I’m continuing something he started — keeping his tools useful, not just stored away, as Andrew would have wanted.