Eleven Oreos - Tim And The Runaway Tiller

Eleven Oreos

May. 30, 2007

Tim And The Runaway Tiller

Tim has really had his trials this year with tillers.

Our tiller is having a problem. Something to do with it losing power when it hits the dirt. He's done everything he can to that stinking machine, and he can't make it work. He kept his temper, but vowed to send it to the trash heap.

My mom got a new front tiller, which Tim looks upon with great contempt, and told Tim he could have her old tiller to see if he could use parts to make his tiller work...or maybe he could tune up her old tiller and use it.

Well, her tiller was almost a wash. He dumped about 1/2 gallon of water out of different parts of the engine. He did get it running, but seems this tiller had the same problem. Lost energy the moment the blades hit the dirt.

He threw up his hands in frustration. My sister happened to be here, and she had just found an old Troy-bilt that she was willing to go in partners with him. That means he kept the old thing going, and they both used it whenever they needed it.

Well, Tim brightened considerably at that idea. He loves Troy-bilts. A lot. He ran right over there to get his new partly owned Troy-bilt and brought the thing home. He started it up, and just stood there and smiled at the raucous sound of the engine.

After dinner he took it back to the garden area to see what it might do. We were all finishing up our dinner at the table, which sits next to the dining windows that look out on the back field. We watched him march out to the tiller with large, man-sized, stomps...which in male body language means "I have a powerful engine that works and I am bigger than you."

Tim started the tiller, and we heard the satisfying roar. He got behind the thing and pulled on a black handle thingy that has a name, but not an important name.

That tiller took off like a shot! My husband is a good sized man. 6'1" and 22l lbs. That tiller had him flying behind it like a flag on a windy day.

Tim looked like a man trying to direct a wild bull. He pulled at the handles, and tried to drag his heels into the dirt. But the tiller tried to bite back with it's blades. When he backed off to get out of the way of the blades, it took off with him again, whipping him off his feet. The handles turned this way and that as the blades bumped and grinded over the top of the ground, sinking it's sinister teeth into the dirt just long enough to tease Tim into grabbing hold of the handles a little harder. Then it shook him like a dog with a bone, and off it flew again.

I was in the house screaming, "Shut the curtains, children! Don't watch! Oh, your daddy's going to kill himself!"

My children were laughing and whooping and screaming, "Go Dad! Go! Look at that thing!"

I slammed the curtains shut, and grabbed a phone to call 911 just in case and marched out the back door. The phone rang just as I stepped out the door to scream at Tim to turn that demon off! I answered the phone, and it was Karla, my sister and part owner of the The Tiller From Hell.

"Your dumb tiller is going to kill my husband!" I screamed at her.

I dropped the phone down at my waist and heard her yelling something, but I couldn't hear her over the sound of the tiller and my screams of "Stop, Tim! Stop that thing this instant!"

Tim saw me and pulled some lever, again with a name but again, not an important name, and the tiller slowly shut down.

He came loping up to me and said with a proud smile, "Did you see that thing? Did you see what that thing can do? Who's on the phone?"

"The other owner. She wants the tiller home right now and doesn't want you for a partner anymore."

My kids were laughing and yelling and Tim was beaming with pride. I went to sit in the gazebo to catch my breath and relive Tim's bloody death at the hand of the tiller's blades a few times.

Jillian approached me after a few moments.

"You know what, Mom?" she said. "If I ever get married and my husband is an alcoholic, I'm going to ask him to till a garden for me."

"How is tilling a garden going to help the man?" I asked.

"I'll tell him to borrow Dad's tiller and that will kill him and take care of all of my problems," she said with a giggle.

Alcoholism. Murder. That tiller has got to go

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Comments

May. 30, 2007 - Tiller Death do we Part

Posted by Katartismosacademy

Ah, that Jillie, she's my girl.

I'll bet Tim wasn't the least bit fazed by all this, either. Adrenaline + Testosterone x Horsepower = Dangerous combination!!