Occasionally, I need to move Gene's mower, so he calmly gave me repeated lessons on how to start the ZTR, where to step to get on and off of it, and move it in and out of the shop. This man has patience, let me tell you. After almost mastering these skills (I say almost, because it really depends on whether I was actually paying attention as he reminded me of the steps), I took a spin up and down the driveway going at least half a mile an hour, weaving occasionally (okay, weaving a lot!). Seriously, you could walk faster than I was going. So finally, I thought I would try actually mowing with the ZTR on a flat section of lawn next to the drive way. How hard could it be?
It turns out that I'm uncoordinated and simply can't get the mechanics or concept of no brakes! As the mower picks up speed, and I freak out because I can't find the brake, I just keep pushing forward to try to stop the darn thing. As it turns out, when you push forward, you go faster. In my mind, if I push my hands out in front of me, it is the international sign for STOP! In the five minutes Gene had his back turned, I took out a fence post, ran over a bed of mulch, drove through the woods (not on purpose) and now it looks like a drunk mowed the yard.
So Mom, you were wrong. And honey, sorry about the fence post.
That's it for this week. If you want to read more misadventure, visit my website at www.laughwithkathy.com and click the "After Cancer" tab.
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