Taming the mini: A love story

The pitiless February sun pounded the weather-beaten, cold steel of the Caterpillar 303.5 Mini Hydraulic Excavator as it crouched like a tiger ready to spring from the Madison yard of Fabco Rents.

As I recall, it was a cold day, with the winter wind strafing the snow piles and gravel drives of the excavator's pen. But the tension — the sheer suppressed power — of this machine lent an unnatural heat to an otherwise typical afternoon.

I approached with caution.

Its yellow and black frame was all business. Its arm sat curled in on itself with a mean-looking bucket on one end. I had a feeling that boom had centralized lubrication, and by the looks of it, I expected a swing speed of about 9.3 rpm. Weighing in at around 7,800 pounds, that bad boy looked to me like it could hit 2.8 mph if I really opened it up.

And then I hoisted myself into the cab. Shocked? Yeah, you could say that. Did this machine have a steering wheel as I expected? Oh no, not the mini excavator.

Instead, it offered me two little joystick thingies. Well whatever, I thought, I'll figure that out once I get this monster fired up.

The mini roared to life. I swear I felt all 55 amps leap from the alternator to power up the four-stroke, three-cylinder engine that was suddenly purring behind my seat.

I moved a joystick. It lurched forward. I moved the other stick. The boom swung awkwardly. Touchy, I thought.

It didn't matter. With growing confidence, I knew this was my day. This mini was going to work for me. Me and my mini were going to dig. And, oh, did we dig deep. I put this machine through its paces, and I can honestly say that when we were through, we had literally moved pounds of snow.

But it had to end, and walking away from that mini was one of the hardest things I've ever done. We're just in different places. The mini lives to dig, and I just can't make room for that in my life right now.