Taking the Keys Away
Yesterday, I was talking to my father on the telephone. True to form, we covered one of my favorite topics; the state of my inheritance. Despite the fact that I constantly remind him that daily eating is unnecessary and that doctors are for pussies, he still manages to squander my fortune at an alarming rate. In this instance, he informed me that he spent approximately $600 on lawnmower maintenance. There are several problems with this.
The lawnmower in question is a Snapper Hi-Vac Rear Engine Riding Mower. Incidentally, it also happens to be red, allowing me to make clever statements like, "Dad, what do the neighbors think of your red snapper?" Considering that this mower is barely a year old and retails for about the book value of my car, there is no way that it should require $600 of repairs so soon. Delving deeper, we had the following discussion:
Me: How did you manage to spend $600 fixing the lawnmower? It's fairly new.
Dad: The front steering linkage is broken. Plus, it needed a new blade and the blade's driveshaft was bent.
Me: Bent? That takes some doing. When did that happen?
Dad: When I drove the lawnmower down the hill in the front yard.
Me: The hill covered with rocks?
Dad: Yeah, that hill.
Me: The rocks are large and white. Grass is green. How did you mistake the two?
Dad: Well, lawn mowing is kind of monotonous. So, I thought I'd take a little nap.
Me: You're telling me you fell asleep on the lawnmower?
Dad: Hey, I woke up. Right after the blade broke off.
Me: Hysterical laughter.
If you've ever used a riding lawnmower, you know that it's not a terribly relaxing proposition. Due to the lack of suspension, the operator is subjected vibratory forces that are only rivaled by some of Cham's more potent sex toys. Furthermore, my father assured me that he was not under the influence of alcohol or any other mind altering substance. By the way, there are circumstances when the best strategy is to claim complete intoxication. Had my dad said, "Yes, son. I was ripped to the tits on MD 20/20 when I wrecked the lawnmower," I wouldn't be nearly as worried. Thus, I was forced to inform him that his days of independence are quickly waning and that we should start shopping assisted living facilities. Since he's only 62 and I've been suggesting the same for the last 15 years, I doubt he's going to go for it.