Ninjas raided my house when I was only 6. I ran and hid in the woodshed until they were gone. When I thought it was safe, I grabbed paw's 028 and ventured out to find the house in flames and my family dead. I ran into the forest and didn't stop running until morning.
I finally stopped and looked around and realized that I had no idea where I was and I was still carrying that heavy beast of a saw. I tried to get it started with a lot of cursing and flailing, like I had seen my father do, so I could cut some sticks up and make myself a fire to keep warm.
I was still trying, sweat pouring off of me and my young muscles weary, when I heard a voice saying, "Piston scored it is, hmm? Carb adjustments, they will for you do nothing!" I looked up and through my tears I saw a wizened old logger with a massive beard and the greasiest chaps and dentedest brain bucket that I had ever seen. He spat out a fountain of chew spit and wiped his maw with the sleeve of his filthy flannel shirt, then turned and strode off into the woods. I didn't really have anything else going for me at the time, so I followed him.
When we got to his cabin the old man, who introduced himself as Olaf Olafson, took me in. He fed me steelhead and Pabst Blue Ribbon until I had my strength back and then put me to work splitting kindling. Always I dreamed about going back and finding those ninjas to avenge the death of my parents, but always there were more chores.
"Check my bar oil you must."
"Mix the 2-stroke at 40:1, you will."
I chafed at the constant work, and Olaf's ridiculous backwards talkingness. But he would not let me leave until I could snatch a scrench from his hand. Every time he was too quick for me, and I was back to cleaning air filters and scraping the muck out of bar grooves. And learning too. From watching Olaf, I learned to set a carb by ear, and file a chain, and make a proper Humboldt cut, and how to chase spotted owls from a landing.
Finally, on my 13th birthday, I managed to snatch the scrench from Olaf's hand. We had a small dinner of more steelhead and PBR and went to bed early. When I woke up, on our tiny table there was a gleaming new 660 and a note from Olaf that read, "Ready you are, for the fighting of ninjas. Teach you no more I can." Olaf himself was nowhere to be found.
So I took the saw and made my way back to civilization. I still haven't found any ninjas yet, but they better watch out.