I gathered up some field stones to build a border to a path. Transporting the biggest ones to the site trashed my old barrow. The bucket was twisted and rusted and the bolts to the chassis ripped through. It has seen several repairs and a retro fitted puncture proof tyre. I even used duct tape for grips to fend off the cold in winter. Alas, it’s wheeled its last load.
I nipped over to the wholesaler and picked up a couple of new French barrows. Bigger in volume with ergonomic grips and a new fangled metric sized wheel. They will hold water when it rains too.
These must be the fourth and fifth barrows I’ve bought in a lifetime. I wonder if I will need any more.
I didn’t check the actual dimensions but they appeared bigger than my old last a lifetime puncture proof tyre. I anticipate barrow leg strikes on rooty paths, increased bar to ground height at rest and all manner of incompatibility if I switch them.
There is a certain elegance to the rise of the new barrow’s bars.
I’ve got one of those and it lives in, errr, France. Mine is ghetto tubeless though as it punctured on some thorns. A few CC’s of jizz (Copydex) later and it’s been reet.
Builders who built the extension in my last house nicked my lovely shiny new wheelbarrow and left me with a battered rusty concrete encrusted old thing. I quite like its manly ruggedness though.