Dear old Dad

Okay, before you read any further, you need to clearly understand I love my Dad. I need to make sure I’ve got that out of the way upfront here so there’s no mistaking it. For the most part, I’ve always had a good relationship with Dad—with the exception of this short period before I moved out of the house…and we couldn’t agree on the proper length my hair should be. J

But Dad has a knack for fixing things up. Well, mostly. If he doesn’t understand it, he’ll tackle it and try to understand it. He’s very mechanical-minded, too.

I’m not.

In spite of the fact that he tried very hard to pass that mechanical-mindedness down to me, it just didn’t take. It was just one of those things I never really had an interest in. Yeah, I like my car. I want to put gas in it and I want it to go. I don’t really care what happens under the hood as long as it gets me from point A to point B.

When my sister, Angie, and I lived at home, he would always do stuff for us, sometimes on the sly to see how long it would take for us to notice. Keep in mind, before he retired, my Dad would wash the cars once a week—whether they needed it or not.

Once, when my sister was having tire-problems of some sort (brakes? I dunno), Dad worked on them and then decided to go with her to buy new ones…or something. As Angie was driving down the road, she suddenly looked out her window and saw her tire passing her by on the road! Yep. Dad forgot to tighten the lugnuts and it held for a while, but the tire eventually came off and rolled right past her while she was driving on the road!

Throughout the process of our move down to Mississippi, most of our stuff has been stored in Dad’s big (new!) shed for some time. Once we bought our house, it was time for us to get all the outside stuff, too: lawnmowers, etc.

As I loaded up, Dad let me know that he’d worked on my riding lawnmower while we were in Oxford and the mower was under his shed—something I was very grateful for. He’d greased it and all that sort of stuff—tuned it up.

Well, the other day, I was mowing and suddenly noticed the grass was cutting funny. No, my tire didn’t sail past me. But as I got off the mower to look at the grass, I noticed a lawnmower blade sitting pretty as you please in the path behind me. Now, I would have thought if the blade came off, it would have shot out. But I think I’ve figured out that it simply just “unscrewed” as it cut…and then just dropped off. I found the nut right beside the blade.

That’s my dear old Dad!


Filed under family

3 responses to “Dear old Dad

  1. ant'ny

    In defense of fathers everywhere who are “handier” than their children… 😉

    “he would always do stuff for us, sometimes on the sly to see how long it would take for us to notice…”

    What he *could* tell you is that proper maintenance of any motorized vehicle includes a periodic “safety inspection,” *especially* after a period of inactivity. You should occasionally check your lugnuts and mower blades, to prevent such occurrences from, well, occurring.

    I’m handier than most, but I still feel like a small child when I get to work alongside my father. While I’m fully capable of completing most projects, he’s much better than I. I feel like my place is to hand him the appropriate tool and stay quiet, just like I used to do all those years ago.

    GREAT story, Roland! The love for your father comes through loud and clear!

  2. Peggy Johnson

    Did BJ put the blade back on the mower for you?

  3. BJ (Mom)

    Peggy–that would actually be something I would do. Not that time–I was amazed at first and then laughed. Up to the age of 18–I used to help my dad on any car work needed and recently found myself helping him on his lawn mower:-)

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