Wednesday, April 21, 2004


At least that's what I thought Tuesday morning as I went to put our Toro outside for the hardware store to come pick it up (spring tune-up).

Turns out those busy beavers at the hardware store came and got the mower a day early. I just happened to leave my garage door open for about forty minutes, or so, late Monday afternoon. The guys at Terry's Small Engine Repair (they work out of the hardware store now) took advantage of that narrow window of opportunity to snatch my self-propelled mulcher away from me.

Stealthy little mower repairing ninjas. That's what we have on our hands.

I called Deb Tuesday morning to see if she knew anything about the missing mower. She thought I was joking (of course). Then she called the hardware store. "This is going to seem like a dumb question," she said. "Do you have our lawn mower?" Deb asked.

"What's your name?"


"Yeah, it's here."

Whew. Although, I have to admit I'm a little disappointed. I had this, "Gone in Sixty Seconds" scenario cooked up in my head. A group of ace mower robbers had to jack fifty Toros, LawnBoys, Snappers, etc. in order to save someone's brother from a ring of ruthless, international garden implement thieves. You see, that's why they only bothered to take our mower and nothing else. They were in a huge hurry.

Then I thought if someone had stolen our mower it would need to be turned into the insurance company. Then we'd have to buy a new mower. I could get something cool. Something that would make mowing the lawn an adventure in grounds maintenance every time I tugged the starter rope.

Rope, hell!

This puppy would have an electric starter. The neighbors would think Joey Chitwood had rolled into town each time I cranked the throttle from turtle to rabbit. The custom paint job would include flames on the oversized motor, menacing fangs on the front of the mower deck and BAD ASS GRASS MASTER on the sides. Of course there would be super bright, flashing red strobes all over the thing. Mowing would take a very long time because all the foxy ladies in the neighborhood would constantly interrupt me to check out my slick new mower.

It's not going to happen, though. In three weeks the old Toro will be back in my garage. However, it will have new wheels, a new spark plug, fresh oil and a nice, sharp blade. Not as exciting as the Bad Ass Grass Master, but at least I'll be able to finish mowing in a decent amount of time without all of those foxy ladies bugging me.

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