One of our really nice neighbors let us use his “slow” riding lawn mower. (I designate this one as his “slow” one because he does have another that would probably give Jeff Gordon a run for his money up at the Texas Motor Speedway).
C. and I have been researching on what kind of riding mower to purchase so being able to test drive one and get our lawn mowed was very helpful. C. mowed about a quarter of the front yard then let me have my turn.
It was on that Saturday in April, after jumping onto the seat of the mower, turning the key, pressing the accelerator and taking off, that I was immediately transported back to a summer afternoon during high school in my boyfriend’s parents’ back yard. Isn't it peculiar the memories that embed themselves into the folds of our brains and re-surface when triggered by the littlest thing?
My high school boyfriend’s dad let me mow his back yard on their riding mower one summer afternoon. He’d put a cold beer in the holder, showed me how to operate it and let me have at it. I drove that thing all afternoon. LeRoy enjoyed his "day off" from yard work and the pleasure was all mine. He kept an eye on me from the back patio but I was completely alone out there. It was heaven; just me, my thoughts and the hum of the motor.
Most gals would prefer diamonds for Christmas. Just give me a riding lawn mower.
My high school boyfriend’s dad let me mow his back yard on their riding mower one summer afternoon. He’d put a cold beer in the holder, showed me how to operate it and let me have at it. I drove that thing all afternoon. LeRoy enjoyed his "day off" from yard work and the pleasure was all mine. He kept an eye on me from the back patio but I was completely alone out there. It was heaven; just me, my thoughts and the hum of the motor.
Most gals would prefer diamonds for Christmas. Just give me a riding lawn mower.
I stopped by your blog today.
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