See Ya, SUCKAH!

If I had any sense of nostalgia or affection for dead machinery, I would have entitled this post, "R.I.P. Grasshole." But I don't. So I didn't.

Instead, I am pleased and proud to announce that Grasshole has been retired, soon to be delivered to that Great Junkyard Around the Lake, and replaced by a new lawn tractor. Thank God and all her angels.

Here is the story of Grasshole's demise.

The day before we left for our exotic vacation, I hopped onto Grasshole (yes, Jive Turkey, you will be pleased to know that your name stuck and we have actually been referring to the tractor this way) to mow the front lawn, thinking I'd better get it done before we left so we wouldn't come back to find a grassland inhabited by birds and small mammals. I turned Grasshole on, started the mower . . . and it died. AND, there was a clearly visible wire sizzling and smoking. Not good.

So when A. got home from work with Big Red, we loaded up Grasshole and delivered him to the repair place, to be fixed while we were gone.

Fast-forward a week, we actually drove to the repair shop the day we got back, punchy and sleep-deprived as we were, to collect Grasshole from the doctor's. Where we were assured all problems were fixed. The next day, I did in fact manage to mow all the lawns that desperately needed it.

Sunday, A. drove Grasshole to the lakeshore with the gas can to start the lake pump. And then Grasshole wouldn't start again. So A. brought the battery up to the shop to be recharged overnight.

Also on Sunday, we moved the rams from the paddock near the house to a pasture nearer the ewes. I decided the paddock really needed mowing, since those picky sheep don't just graze everything down, but pick and choose, leaving big hillocks of grass that look like crap.

The next night after work (Monday, if you're having a hard time keeping track), A. put the battery back in, Grasshole started right up, and I jumped on while it was running to mow the paddock. Then I got stuck on an incline and the engine turned off. Sonofabitch. We couldn't get it started again, and flooded the engine trying. So we left it alone another night to stop sulking.

Yesterday morning, A. started it unexpectedly before he went to work. I was still in my pajamas, but I knew that once it got going, I'd better get on the thing and mow or it would never start again. So I jumped on it in sandals and my pajamas, got about 10 feet, and it not only threw the belt (again) but threw the entire drive shaft. A. declared it dead. And instead of making the sign of the cross and wishing Grasshole Godspeed, I cheered.

A. went to the farm store after work yesterday and bought a new lawn tractor. A NEW new one this time, not a new-to-us used one. It has a larger mower deck, a more powerful engine, and is all around better than Grasshole.

As soon as we'd had dinner, I got on the new mower, in a skirt and sandals no less, to finally finish the half-mowed paddock. The new tractor started right up and I began the mowing. And I had an epiphany:

Grasshole was a serious piece of shit.

The new mower wasn't struggling to cut the grass, wasn't getting stuck all the time, and didn't feel like it was in imminent danger of tipping over, thereby throwing me to the ground where I would be pinned and probably get my head chopped off by the mower blades. No, the new mower has none of these problems. I was in paroxysms of joy.

Then I ran out of gas. This is, indeed, the story of my damn life. So the paddock is still not finished, but at least I know that today, when I finally get my ass out of the house and to the gas station to fill the gas can, I will be able to mow without a breakdown. And there are few things in life (in MY life, anyway) better than that.

And just to make this post A LITTLE LONGER, I present to you my niece. She's the cute one in this photo. A. looked at this picture and the first thing he said was not "Oh, look how cute the baby is," but "Do I really look that wide in real life?" He's pretty brawny, but no, he does not look quite this wide in real life.

This may be the only photo you will ever see of us dressed like normal people and not covered in sheep shit or cistern filth.