On the way home from town Monday evening, I rounded the first sharp curve on our county blacktop road, and saw an unusual sight. It was at the log cabin house, first one on the left. The lady who lives there was standing just off the road, hands on hips. Her red riding lawnmower was in the ditch.
Well. That's a predicament. If it was working, she wouldn't be standing behind it. The nose was pointed up into her yard, but the back tires were in the ditch. Like it was stuck, or couldn't power itself up the little hill on the other side of the ditch. It was the edge of her yard, about 100 feet from her house.
Of course I stopped. I didn't know how I could help, but I wanted to make sure she was okay. At least I had a cell phone, in case she didn't have hers with her, and didn't want to leave the mower there at the edge of the road to go inside the house. I put T-Hoe's window down. The lawnmower was RUNNING!
"I'm pretty sure I can't help you with this, but is there anything I can do?"
"Thank you, but my husband is on the way."
"Okay, I just wanted to see if you needed anything I could do."
"Thank you for stopping."
If she didn't have her husband coming to her rescue, my plan was to call Hick, who was home when I left, a mere three miles away. Hick would have known what to do. I figured he could bring a chain and pull out the riding mower with SilverRedO. Either by driving into her yard to pull it forward, or backward out onto the pavement where she could ride it back to her driveway.
I was of no help to that lady, but it's the thought that counts. Right?
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