Riding My Mower Around Town

When you’re young, there are certain things you swear you will never do. You know the type of things I’m talking about. Hang out on the patio in boxer shorts and old man socks. Set your teeth on the dining room table. Socialize on a bench about important weather concerns. Leave your blinker on for more than fifteen minutes. Turn the wrong way down a one-way street. Belch in public. Leave a five percent tip at a restaurant because you didn’t order very much. Forget to zip the fly on your polyester pants. That sort of thing.

These were solemn, youthful declarations of dignity muttered under breath by those too young to know life happens to everyone. As for me, my descent into the abyss has begun. I drove a lawn mower across town. That was definitely on my do not do list, and the fact that I have a good reason to justify my lawn mower excursion only makes the matter worse. If you see me wearing polyester pants, avert your eyes. I have no idea where this train is headed.