I don't even have to tell you where this is but I will anyway: Commenter Breezeway's Gwynn's Island cottage. It's more of the same (which I never seem to tire of) except zoomed out a bit. Speaking of more of the same, we return now to the rest of my mother's story about a tractor gone wild.
Yesterday I shared the first part of a story in which Chesapeake Bay Mother was herding cats using a Cub Cadet riding lawn mower which my father had recently "re-engineered." In other words the darn thing was long overdue for a trip to Doc Jones, the mortician for cars, trucks, tractors and scrap metal; our local Fred Sanford--but my father insisted that he could keep it running.
This particular cat herding event did not go exactly as planned, thanks to the Cub Cadet Gone Wild.
We pick up where the story left off: Chesapeake Bay Mother has successfully herded HER 4 cats into MY basement and is now preparing to head back next door.
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Runaway Lawnmower - Part II
by Chesapeake Bay Mother
"...On this occasion I got back on, shifted into 3rd and sailed home.
When I attempted to slow, nothing responded. Careening around the yard with all the stops out, I rammed a tree in an effort to stop. If that jolt weren't enough, the thing immediately hauled backward, heading for our best* car. Fearing a backward collision, I leaped off the side, unaware of turning the wheel as I hit the ground horizontally, face down in our gravel driveway--and unbelievably--watched as the lawnmower backed in a circle and ran over my butt.
Husband shows up just in time to chase it down and prevent a repeat butt-crushing by (guess what?) TURNING OFF THE KEY--a thing which I totally never considered and I'm supposed to be the smart one.
Not that day.
I got up and walked away and lived to mow another day; but I got some soft tissue damage which we won't talk about. That was the same week as my yearly gynecological. You can imagine. If I had to explain the circumstances to anyone but Super Nurse Practitioner Janet, I would have been called a liar with pants on fire. As it was, we laughed and marveled at the beautiful coloration of my bruises.
Cub Cadet was sentenced to die without the possibility of living, and it was a merciful thing."
-CB Mother
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Chesapeake Bay Woman's Background Information Which is Vital To Understanding The Hidden Meaning Behind Some of CB Mother's Choice of Words
* My father collects man-toys, such as tractors, airboats, wood-burning furnaces, table saws, chain saws, half-eaten jars of peanut butter, government-issued black pens, and vehicles of all sorts. His collection includes: one VW Thing (does not run) which my mother has called the honeysuckle planter; one circa-1960 Ford (does not run); one VW bug (does not run); one VW station wagon (does not run); one VW bus (does run, rarely used); another VW bug (does run, rarely used; is missing the front passenger seat and has a hole in the floorboard); one very-used Jeep pick-up (this is my father's main driving car - he purchased it because the VW had no heat and he didn't want to freeze to death); and then finally their "best" car, referenced above towards which CB Mother was headed, backwards, on a riding lawn mower: a Chevrolet Equinox.
It isn't just their best car, it's really their only working car with heat and a passenger seat.
14 comments:
I had never heard of a Chevrolet Equinox, so I googled it. Man, does your mother know how to live!
Now all those other VW type vehicles that don't run....have your parents considered hanging curtains and renting them out as cottages for the blogfest?
mmm...life is never dull there at your place is it?
at least you cheer up my afternoon!
GJ - That's a good idea about renting the junk cars as cottages, however the racoons have already staked their claim.
Annie - Never, ever a dull moment.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho,
It's off to work I go,
Where the internet is not,
but the boredom is a lot,
Hi Ho, Hi Ho.
These remarks provided courtesy of lack of caffeine combined with a severe lack of interest in going to work. Ever.
Whoever said the Boonies are boring......didn't live next to your mom
Oh and I referred to your moms story in my blog.
I hope that wasn't copy written....
LOL
Qwah.
Nurse Practitioner Janet? Oh, the stories THAT woman could write....Perhaps you should invite her to guest blog sometime!! Heehee!!!
CBW,
I don't think I remember enough details about the swing set incident to write a story about it. I was only 7 or 8 at the time. (We learn to drive early in Mathews!) I barely knew how to ride a bike, but I could drive a tractor (albeit a little one)
My mother balked every time Daddy wanted me to drive heavy equipment on the highway. His standard response was, "Hell, if I could haul bricks from West Point (70 miles round trip) when I was 12, she should be able to drive the truck/tractor/whatever to the field for me." Sounds reasonable, right? not to Mama. I wasn't allowed to drive the farm vehicles on the highway until I had a genuine driver’s license. Even though it was legal, she wasn't buying it.
However, It was not uncommon in my day to see young boys driving farm trucks and tractors down the side of the road as a conveyance. They were obviously bound to the convenience store or to a buddy’s house, not to plow a field.
I still can't drive a *real* straight shift vehicle, only off-road ones. I do better with shifting when I'm going SLOW.
Probably my fear of manual transmissions comes from the fact that all I had to learn on was a 1960’s vintage dump truck with no power steering. Now THAT might be a story....
Your mama is a literary genius. Please tell her I said so.
AMN
AMN - I'll tell her. Also, if your 1960s truck had a column shift, well no wonder you have an unnatural fear of manuals. I am right there with you - can't master that one. I was driving a 1970's vintage VW van when I was 12 - hauling daffodils from the farm to Cobbs Creek for shipment. Manual.
In that same vein, not only do we have an inordinate number of farm vehicles on the highways, we also boast a combine in our Christmas parade.
reminds me of the time my husband asked the youngster to drive the tractor to the other end of the field, and forgot to tell him how to stop it
I have pictures of the combine in the Christmas parade! It was way COOL.
AMN
AMN - Me too! I almost put my combine picture up here back in December but I never got around to it.
Isn't scrap metal worth some money these days? Maybe that could be your dad's new hobby -- stripping the non-running vehicles for scrap.
Please tell CBMother that she's tied for my favorite Mathews writer. You two need to write a book together.
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