Everyone Watch Out, Mom's on the Tractor

Dad, you might want to skip this one...

I'm kidding! 

But seriously, go read something else.

I like to think that as a highly independent woman there's nothing I can't do.  No obstacle too extreme for me and nothing I can't accomplish.  So at the beginning of the summer, after much harassment, I was finally allowed to learn how to operate The Tractor.  Not just that little Cub Cadet I'd been using to cruise around the yard for three years now, but the John Deere.  The mac daddy of tractors. 

Finally the freedom to cut the wildly growing grass myself and not depend on one of The Men when it needed to be done.  And so finally I get to drive The Tractor.

And it's way too much fun.

It's also slightly scary.

See the thing is that the tractor doesn't really pick up speed unless you've got it on the rabbit setting (yeah, I can use it, but I have no idea what the correct terms are for those three fancy levers on the thing).  But once you've moved it up and you're speeding along at a rabbit pace, you realize that you're probably going too fast for your own good.  And then you realize that there's a fence post straight ahead.

Whew, cleared the post, but OH SHIT THERE'S A HILL!

The Tractor has a wonderful safety mechanism that turns off the mower when The Tractor has been driven erratically or you've slammed on the brakes.

Great in theory, but that happens to be how I drive The Tractor; which means that I'm constantly having to restart the mower. 

I'm starting to realize why my dad was so petrified when I got my license. 

So here I am, plodding along, cutting some grass when all of a sudden I realize that I'm just driving and not cutting.  So I put the mower back on and try to retrace my steps.  Therefore, instead of those perfectly mowed lines I want to create, the yard looks like it's been mowed by a drunken clown.

And then there's all the stuff in the yard: Lou's toys, dog toys, branches and other tree debris.

Try as I might, I never seem to avoid these hazards as much as I'd like to think I do.  Thankfully the mower cuts up most of what I run over, destroying the evidence.  But take that Nerf ball, for example, the one that's been living in the backyard all summer, up until the point when I took over mowing.  It's not that I just ran over it.  I think I ran over it at least three times.  Sure Chowdy had ripped it up a bit, but I completely destroyed it.  There's still bits of foam dotting the yard.

And of course I need to watch out for my Collection.  You'd think they'd know better than to try to spend quality time with my when I'm on the tractor.  But there's Chowder up ahead.  She's figured out that if you drop the tennis ball in front of The Tractor it will disappear for a moment before being shot out into the field, much farther than if I had just thrown it for her.  And Gidge considers herself the defender of the yard and she's decided that the yard needs to be defended from The Tractor.  Maybe she just realizes the danger I've put the yard in by operating The Tractor myself.  Either way, she runs right in front of me, barking and acting as if, at any moment, she could hurl herself in front of me and into the path of oncoming dismemberment.  Lady, I put it on rabbit speed!  Get out of my way!

I nearly took out Brandis' nest last week and now I've got all those tiny fluffs of baby to avoid.

But despite the perils, I love driving The Tractor; and Dad, since I know you're still reading, you'll be hard pressed to get me to give it up.  There's something to be said about the freedom of a motorized vehicle.  The feeling that I really could just set off into the sunset and leave it all behind.  Not that I'd get too far, but I'll bet you I could make it out to 96.  It's not the calm, quiet peace that I yearn for, but it's the monotonous drum of the power under your feet and the thoughts inside your head.  I can't hear you, so don't even bother trying to talk to me.  It's the overwhelming smell of freshly cut grass and weeds.  It's the feeling of a pile of grass tossed into your face by a rogue wind, something I don't think you can appreciate until you've been trapped in an air conditioned house with a stir crazy Collection for days on end.  And then there's the birds.  They're smart enough to know that if this noisy beast kicks up grass, it's kicking up bugs too.  So the field is filled with swallows darting around and swooping low to eat their fill. 

And, of course, it's the challenge.  The challenge of getting it all done before nap time's over.  The challenge of making the yard not look like it belongs to hillbillies.  The challenge of fixing the damage I did last time.  And although it's a wild ride, I get better every time. 

So everyone, look out!  Mom's on the tractor and she may never get off.