Needed a little break from Dundalkers so here's a little story to reveal my weakness where the manly power of noise gasoline and smoke are concerned
In my yard stands a majestic old pecan tree. She , and I say she
because she bears pecans and I'm told the male tree doesn't, spreads out
over a large part of our yard. Much taller than our two story house her
branches a foot in diameter extend 50 feet, each weighing a least ton when
laden with leaves and even more when bearing nuts.
The other night a storm came through and one of those branches
broke at the trunk and hung there right over top my pickup truck.
I moved the truck holding my breath and then made a trip to Walmart
to buy a chainsaw figuring this will not be the last branch to come
down and the wood needs to be cut up and the mess cleared away.
I was standing in the store studying the different chainsaws.
A little old lady with a blue vest on walked over and said,
"That's the one you ought to have," pointing to an electric chainsaw.
"My husband has one and he loves it," she said. "Starts every time,
doesn't stink, its quiet and so light you can attach it to a pole and reach
way up in the tree to prune it, and Cheap too!" Thinking all this
certainly sounded reasonable. I picked up the little electric chainsaw
and put it in my shopping cart.
Just then a manager type walked up and said, "This sir is what you need,big,
engine long blade anti kick back feature. Now that saw will do a mans
work." I looked at the little lady she turned her head to side and winked
Then I drew myself up to the full length of my suspenders and said,
“I think not sir," my heart sinking, as I shook the little plastic saw
with my hand. "This one will do just fine. It's quiet, starts every time
and it won't smell up the place."
The man studied me a few seconds and said, "OK but when you chamge
your mind just bring it back and get this one." He looked at me, made a
face and his glasses slid down his nose. Looking over them he turned and
I had been dismissed.
I couldn't help feeling a little remorse as I looked longingly at a the
18 inch gasoline saw all painted in camouflage. I would never hear its
angry roar as it tore into the white virgin pecan wood ripping it into pieces
The little old lady, very pretty by the way, Stood watching me and asked, "
You going home and work on that tree young man?"
Young man being the magic word here, at age seventy it does the trick
"Yes mam”, I answered, perhaps a little dejected and still eyeing the saw
with its powerful gasoline engine.
"I know something about you," she said softly.
" What's that mam?" I questioned, studying this tiny figure standing
squarely in front of me, with increasing dread.
You've got confidence.
"I do?" I asked , now beginning to recognize the true
wisdom confronting me.
"Any man that is willing to use an electric chainsaw in broad
daylight is truly a big man.
I took my saw home and whacked the branches up into fire wood and
the little saw was truly a magical thing. It quietly and efficiently made
short work of the job at hand.
This morning I got up and made my morning walk to the local
restaurant for coffee. I dreaded the howls of laughter and jokes that were
soon to be hurled at me from the somewhat red necky sorts that are my
friends and neighbors I could already hear it.
I Walked in and sat down. The waitress had brought my coffee as I
came in the door. "Good morning honey', " she cooed as she did to
"Been running," someone asked me.
"Your face is red."
We sat pretty much in silence, as is our way. Only an occasional
comment and short answer here and there.
Slowly having finished their coffee each got up and left me setting
alone. I was feeling a little disappointed now. The saw is so quiet
no one had even heard it running. They didn't even know I had a chainsaw.
Then immortal big box words echoed in my ears "If not satisfied
with your purchase for any reason return it for an exchange or your money
I cleaned up and returned the wonderfully quiet and efficient little
saw and bought the heavy, noisy, clumsy and foul smelling, gasoline saw.
I walked proudly toward the cash registers then I saw her, standing in
the isle, that formidable little old sales lady. I slipped down a side isle.
In the most cowardly manner I slinked through ladies longerie and past
the lunch counter heading for the check out counter. All this while
looking over my shoulder half expecting to see a smidgen of a woman come
charging out from behind some display. She would surely
drag me and my beloved prize back to the tool department.
After paying what was due at the check out I emerged
from the swinging doors to safty, freedom and glee at having escaped.