It finally happened! I was so excited my heart threatened to jump out of my chest. My fingers tingled and my stomach fluttered. The lawn mower had broken, not while I was riding it, while Doug was using it!
This blue riding lawn mower came with the house. It has been Doug's pride and joy. The mower purrs like a kitten for the entire six weeks Doug is home. He leaves and Bam! It breaks within hours of his departing the country.
It has vapor locked on me more times than my poor preschool teachers brain can count. Doug says, "Why does it do that to you? It never does it to me." I turned the ignition one morning. No click, no cough, nada, nothing. Doug replied to my email, "It didn't do that when I was home." Opening the shed door another morning, the tires greeted me with a deflated smile. Doug asked , "How'd you do that?"
I do not know or pretend to understand how these things happen. They are an act of nature. Now nature has acted on Doug.
I was slaving away in the kitchen cooking Doug a savory dinner. He had been mowing all day long. I could practically hear the angel music in his head as he roared along. Out of the blue he appeared at the window. "I need your muscles!" he yelled.
"Me? The 100 pound weakling?" (Okay. Maybe that was 20 years ago. But I still see that person in the mirror.)
Doug was frowning as I rushed outside. "What's going on?" He ignored the question and lead me to the front yard ditch. Low and behold there sat the lawnmower. It listed to one side looking sickly. Come to think of it, Doug looked sickly too. The wheel was missing!
I tried to contain myself from smiling and jumping up and down. Tired, but failed. "Hey, how'd you do that?"
He ignored that question too. "I'm going to lift the lawnmower and I want you to push the jack under it." he instructed. (What he meant was shove the 80 pound floor jack through the sod and mud.) Like that happened.
Plan B. We will push it up the ditch. He will get the trailer and we can push it up the ramp into the back. I quickly nixed that idea. If my muscle bound son and I could not push the mower up a slight hill, there was no way Doug and I were pushing it up any incline. Not that Doug isn't muscular, but his muscles are 20 some years older than Robby's.
By now he was pacing and muttering. I stood back to take a picture. He muttered more in my direction.
Plan C. The lug nuts were striped. Perhaps he could secure them enough to drive the lawnmower on the trailer. Doug climbed on, started the engine, (Not right away. The handle sensor has a short, has for several months. The sensor has to be manipulated with a knife before it would think of coming to life.) He attempted to drive on and the tires spun sending grass flying into the neighboring field. I could see determination in his face. He spun the mower around and flew up the ramp backwards.
"Now what? Are we taking the blasted thing into the shop." I asked still trying to hide my amusement.
"Tomorrow," Doug barked out. "I must clean it up first."
Strange, but okay. I watched from the kitchen window as Doug blew the grass off his baby. He wiped the dirt off the exterior. Oil was applied to the crevices. A soft blanket was delicately attached around it so it wouldn't get too dusty on the drive to the lawn mower hospital. It was like giving a baby a bath and tucking it in for the night. It was an evil lawnmower. Let bugs splatter it.
We live on a moderately busy road. I see people checking the place out as they drive by. There is a sense of security knowing that if I fall off the ladder or out of the apple tree someone will see and pick me up. People have even stopped to ask my why the lawn mower is sitting idle in the middle of the yard. (Because it died, duh!) However; no one drove by as Doug and I attempted to rid the ditch of the possessed mower. I could gloat with no one at the time. So pass this on to everyone you know. Let the word be out that the evil blue lawnmower pulled a quick one on Doug. Finally!