I hoped he wouldn't see me. It wasn't like I could sneak around, as the new faster-than-the-speed-of-light mower is fairly loud.

I hoped he wouldn't see me. It wasn't like I could sneak around, as the new faster-than-the-speed-of-light mower is fairly loud.
Luckily he was covered up with a tarp.

Big Red, my 1954 Ford tractor is in permanent retirement.
We couldn't find him another home so he's just sitting there, probably becoming a home for rabbits.

Again I suggested we let him be an oversized planter in the front yard, and again I got a look that said I might be crazy.
Even though I miss the slow pace the tractor provided, being able to mow 10 acres in half the time gives me more time to think about the garden.

I had to give up being able to leisurely eat my peanut butter and jelly, while mowing, since it takes everything I have to hold on and concentrate so I don't hit anything.
When I'd run into the fence with the tractor, we were going so slow, I could just back up and pull the barbed wire back down so no one would know.

If I accidentally hit the fence with the new mower, I'm going to be plowing through the neighbors' field.
Their horses, which had gotten used to seeing me on the tractor, started backing up as soon as I headed toward the fence.
Maybe they have a sixth sense.
Even the birds are freaked out.
I didn't see one bird try to catch a snack, but then again maybe I was going too fast to notice.

It wasn't unusual to have a flock of birds, follow me around on the tractor, as they'd take advantage of the insects coming out of the grass while I mowed.

With careful precision they would swoop down and around, making it seem like a perfect Disney movie, as I mowed into the sunset.
Apparently those days are over, now it's more like a NASCAR race.
I'm considering buying a shield to go with my mowing hat.
Luckily the collisions I had with the bugs were on my forehead or arms but I'm pretty sure I can't mow the entire time with my mouth closed and I'm not into that kind of snacking.
Of course the new mower had to go through an inspection, before it left the barn and when it returned.

Because of my track record, between the tractor accidents and breaking nearly every small appliance in the house, the boyfriend is a little paranoid.
"You don't have to go at full speed all the time," he suggested nicely as I wondered how he knew I had put the pedal to the metal with the new mower.

Of course I responded with, "I didn't."
Very casually and patiently he asked if I would go with him to take a look at the acreage where I had mowed.
At the end of every line of mowing, where I had turned so fast and abruptly, big chunks of the ground lay on the grass.
It looked like the moles had gone crazy.
Maybe I should just mow the whole thing with a push mower.
It might take me three days but at least I'd lose some weight.

Sandy Turner lives in the Kansas City area and writes this column for GateHouse Media.