HAPPY EASTER TO ALL!!! :waving:

Spring seems to have sprung. At last!

That means grass-cutting time, since the bloody stuff grows 6 inches overnight this time of year.

I’m getting Old Silver tuned up this weekend. She’s my riding mower. A necessity, yes, with a good acre to mow & bad back in tow. I’ve had her about 13 years now. She’s silver, and yeah, she’s got a dent & scratch or two, but she’s been pretty darned good to me.

And yes indeed, we’ve shared some interesting adventures… :poof:

There have been the sudden thunderstorms. They pop up fast this time of year, of course—and always when I’ve got just 5 or 6 more mower-laps to run. I’m not big on the mohawk-lawn look, and being quite stubborn I assure myself I can do it before the rain comes.
And every year, at least once, I wind up with a mower mired in mud.
Then there was one special day. Black clouds glowering. The wind’s picking up. One drop of rain. (I can finish! I can do it!). Another, a big, hard one. (I’m tough! I can do it!). Just two more laps and I’m done before the big rain comes, and…
Suddenly, there’s a flash of light, and the old apple tree not five feet away begins to sizzle and fall–right toward ME. That baby’s been struck by LIGHTNING. :shock: And I’m sitting there, in the open, on a wet tin can with wheels??!
I’m telling you, you’ve never SEEN a wanna-be-writer put an engine into gear and move so fast! (Danica WHO??!)
Ol’ Silver saved my life that day. Extra helpings of oats in the feed bag for her that night. :yesyesyes:

After a few years, of course, you become complacent on your riding mower. Big mistake, that.
It’s hot, muggy, a bad hair day. Slip on the shorts and muscle shirt, tie a bright red scarf around the hair & toss down some lemonade. I know the lay of the land, know how she takes it, which way to cut. I’ve got my little walkman plugged in, eyes half closed to the bright sunlight, just riding along…and no, I never saw the little pointy low-hanging branch, have no idea where it came from. But I was cruising on high speed when I felt part of my head snatched away. Swoop!!
Stop. Stand. Look back. There’s my scarf, flying like a bloody banner from the victorious scalp-eating tree.
Luckily, that’s ALL it got. Okay, okay, maybe a tiny tuft of hair. And Silver and I rode heroically on… :smokin:

And then there was THE time. The SCARY time. Ol’ Silver & me, well, we both still shudder thinking about that one…
It was a cool, late-summer day as I recall. I actually had long sleeves on, and was putting the finishing touches on the front lawn, which is a gentle slope down most of the way, then a sharper drop toward the street. I’m half done, & Ol’ Silver & I are both running out of gas, but I put it into park to pick up a fallen branch on the lawn—

And somehow, inexplicably, caught my long sleeve on the gear shift.

Next thing I know, I’m on my back, then on my side, my leg and foot caught between the steering column. And I’m slowly, mercilessly being dragged toward the street by the lawn mower.

I try to sit up, grab the gear shift. No can do. With the motion of the mower & years of sadly neglected abs, it ain’t happenin’. My butt’s leaving a nice trail in the grass for the cops to find once I’m gone, though. :moon:

Eyes wide, I look across the street. No neighbors to help in sight. Arms flailing, I twist the body, trying to loosen the leg, get a mouthful of turf. Late-summer grass ain’t the tastiest either, y’know?

“Whoa!” I scream. “Whoa, Silver!!!”

Nothing doin’. Ol’ Silver’s gone buck-wild, & takin’ Raine with him. For a minute he’s heading for the big pine tree in front. The one that’s 3 times taller than the house. I prepare for impact–but the slope of the roots sends us curving away, thank God!

No time for relief. She’s heading down the slope, then it’s one sharp drop & we’re both headed into traffic! Visions of my mangled body dancing in my head, I try to think beyond the pine cone lodged in my ear. Maybe ten seconds to death or, at the very least, SERIOUS embarrassment.
Lessee…death…having to explain this to someone…it’s a toss-up.

I struggle, fall back. I can’t free the leg. The other leg’s kicking uselessly in the air. I twist. The shoulder’s taking the brunt of the punishment. I can see the rim of the drop-off now. Yessss…there it is, waiting. Beckoning. And beyond that, the hood of a car going down the street. And there’s another, and another a few seconds behind that. Ol’ Silver’s shuddering a bit, as if reluctant but unable to stop. Five seconds…four…

With a last, supreme effort I twist my body, slip my scratched arm between my leg & the engine block, and pound the heel of my hand against the brake pedal.

Stopped.
SAVED.
Right on the edge.
After disentangling my poor cramped body, I sit on the edge of the rim. Watching the traffic go by. You just never know when a lawn mower might go wild, do ya? :nonono:

Ol’ Silver & I never talk about that day. It’s sort of an understanding between us. After all the years of service, I can hardly fault her for one bad outing. But whenever we approach that rim now, we go real slow-like. Sorta rememberin’. Y’know? :poof:

This year I’m thinking of getting her a racing stripe or two. Maybe a beverage cup holder. Hell, the way gas prices are going, I may wind up driving Ol’ Silver to work one day.

I just won’t wear long sleeves. :yesyesyes: