Wednesday, April 29, 2009

I Was Killed To Death By My Mailbox.

I mowed the yard last evening, but every time I mow past our mailbox I'm reminded of the time the mailbox killed me to death... from the seat of the lawnmower. It happened a few years ago when the current mower was brand spanky new and I wasn't used to it and it's new fangled transmission. It's a little long reading, but it's worth it.


Like I said, the mower was brand new, I'd hardly mowed with it at all, but that day I went to the shed, get on it and head down the driveway, engage the blades, mow about 30 feet up to the mailbox. Around the base of the mailbox are Iris's we've planted there and I thought "time to mow them off for the fall" so I start edging around the mailbox post, back and forth, getting as close as possible cause heaven forbid if I have to actually get the weed whacker out and trim it by hand. So I've worked my way around to the mailbox side of the post and trying to get every last Iris I ease under the mailbox, leaning waaaayyyy back on the seat of the tractor, stopping with the mailbox wedged against my belly.

Lets pause right here for a moment. Imagine me frozen in this position while I describe to you how the transmission on our John Deere mower works. Okay? Okay... first there is no hand operated gear shift, like my old mower had, and the transmission works by pressing down on a pedal with the toe of your right foot to go forward, and then behind that is another pedal that you press down on to go in reverse. It's a hydrostatic transmission, which means the farther down you press the pedal, the faster the mower travels, just like a sewing machine. Got that?

Okay, now lets take a look at my once again, frozen in time, wedged belly deep under our mail box situation. Extended in the position that I'm in I tap on the pedal with the tippy toe of my stretched out right foot on the pedal that my brain says "reverse". See, the thing is I've got these short stumpy legs, very deceptive and dishonest legs, because what I've got my toe on is the forward pedal.

Alright now, lets unfreeze that action shot as I poke my toe down on that forward pedal. Slooowwwwlllyyyy I start to wedge myself tighter and tighter against the mailbox while my brain is screaming "JACE YOU BOOB! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE GONNA KILL US ALL!!!!" another part of my brain makes my right foot which is now stretched and extended even further beyond it's good judgment, move to the back pedal to get me and my brain (and belly meat) out of this situation that it's in. But my foot, not having a brain of it's own, just randomly stabs at anything on the floorboard that is pedal-like, and of course just makes the mower go forward even faster. Imagine if you can a huge wringer washing machine made up of mailboxes and lawnmowers, and you've just stuck your necktie into it....

The next few moments are mostly a blur as a million thoughts are going thru my now almost non-functioning brain stem. I can see the mailbox approaching my head and I try to move my head to the side as the mailbox is putting a pleat in my brand new t-shirt and I'm thinking "oh no! My brand new t-shirt! But then in the next split second I'm thinking "Hello Grandpa, I thought you'd passed away" Somehow it misses my punkin, but not quite my left hand, and see... that's the funny thing 'cause I don't remember that part at all. I know it happened 'cause it was all sore and bloody and scuffed all over the back of it, I've just blocked out that part I think to keep my brain from having nightmares about this whole little episode.

When the horror finally stops, I'm sitting in the middle of the highway, totally extended over the back of the seat and fender of the mower, feeling like a big ol' piece of pizza dough after going thru that cool rolling machine at Pizza Hut. Only this wasn't that cool... or profitable. I'm trying to gather my wits and thinking "hmmm I've mowed about 30 feet now, that's enough for today" and I head to the house. You KNOW who is there at the door to meet me. Yes, it was Sally, God love the woman, right there to offer support, sympathy and not even a little bit stifled laughter. Then Jake comes walking in... This is when the hilarity of my pain really kicks in. THEN... THEN... our pastor drops by. She is, in no time at all, dabbing tears away from her eyes as I'm sure she must have been totally tore up at my pain and misfortune and is praising Jesus that she doesn't have to come up with a funeral sermon for me that day.

Sore, scabby, creased, and beaten... sounds like the chorus to a country song. Yeah I think about this every time I mow around my mailbox.







.

22 comments:

Scope said...

And let me guess, as a man, you disconnected that wire that runs to the seat that acts like a dead-mans switch and kills everything when you lift one cheek to pinch one off.

SallyW said...

Who needs a camera when Jace is armed with words.

*dabbing tears...again*

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

All I can see is a cartoon image of you, flattened and curled on the ends a la Wile E. Coyote, slowly fluttering to the ground. Except, now, it's Wile E. Cowguy.

Did you at least put on clean underwear before the pastor showed up?

April said...

I am so grateful to get the chance to take a peek in to what goes on in your brain and life. You always paint the picture so well. Whenever I am reading blogs and dying laughing, Benny always says, "You must be reading the cowguy one" and he's always right.

Gwen Gwen Banana Fo Fen said...

Hahahaha! You did the limbo with your mailbox!

Stacie's Madness said...

ah yes, another lesson in how shortcuts never work....

Cora said...

You sure know how to paint a picture, Cowguy. Wowza. Now please excuse me while I go finish laughing my ass off. Hee hee hee.

:-)

mo.stoneskin said...

[Squirms with uncomfortable shame]

When I sabotaged your lawn mower I never intended for you to nearly kill yourself with a mail box.

Fancy mowing my lawn for me? There's no mail box, just a coal bunker and a telegraph pole to avoid. Oh, and an electricity pylon.

Mike said...

I'm surprised you know how a sewing machine works, and not how a hydrostatic transmission works.

You wrote this for the women, didn't you?

Nej said...

So....when you mowed the next time...did you mow that close to the mail box...or did you get the weed wacker out?

I see you as the "won't let this mailbox beat me" kind of guy...but at the same time.....I see you watching it like a hawk the whole time you're mowing around it.

Evil mailboxes!!!

Greenmare said...

damn what kind of craziness is this??? our lawnmower works the same way and I did the same darn thing with a plum tree! Or should I say a FORMER plum tree because that baby is now longer around to scratch me up!

~E said...

Im gonna need to see the mailbox in question. Just so I can fully picture the horror you must have been in and exactly how hard you must have tried to wedge yourself under the said box.

to my email would be fine.

thank you.

Sassy Britches said...

I thought sure you'd have been in on the limbo craze from way back when and could dust off the old moves...no? Oh.

Garnzo said...

I order all my cans of gravity from the moon. They knock 83.3% off the retail price.

HA! The best jokes have a little science in them.

Sally said...

It's not just the event, it's the way you describe it that is so hilariously funny! OMG - tears are rolling I'm laughing so hard. Sorry 'bout your luck Jace, but thank you for the laugh!

Mary@Holy Mackerel said...

I'm so sorry that I'm laughing so damn hard here. I'm sure the pain sure wasn't funny, but man, you tell a good story!!

Sass said...

I snorted.

Thanks for that.

Michael in AZ said...

Tears, and laughter is all I can say...
That and another good reason to wax your mailbox

Jerry said...

Ha Ha, Michael!

Jace, it's good to see your writer's block got all busted up and brushed aside.

I don't know HOW many times I've been in bent positions on my mowers. Never been killed to death, though. Hat's off to ya.

Oh, you didn't lose your hat in that fiasco, did you?

Vicky said...

Sore, scabby, creased and beaten
Thought that day the Lord I was meetin’.
Nothing like almost losing my noggin’
To make a really great tale for my bloggin’!

Cynthia said...

Excellent writing.
Yep. Funny stuff.
:^)
C

Char said...

LMAO. My son-in-law got a new rider mower recently. He has at least a couple of acres to mow. The other day he told me it was time to take it for its virgin run. AFTER he had mowed the entire acreage, he realized that it hadn't cut the grass very low. It was then when he noticed he had forgotten to put the deck down. Good thing he has a sense of humor.