Vake Sampson and the lawn mower incident (as told by Tina Sampson)
This incident occurred in Dad's late 70s. Dad had already developed Parkinson's disease and he'd had a stroke, so his mind and body had both slowed down a bit.
I was visiting Mom and Dad at their house in Dunes city, when Dad decided to mow the lawn on his riding lawn mower.
Dad's mowing pattern was U-shaped; he'd start from the driveway and mow a path across the front lawn, turn right and mow along the south end of the house, make another right and mow a path along the length of the back yard, then loop around and return to the driveway.
I looked out the window and noticed that a garden hose was laying on part of the front lawn, so I went outside to move the hose out of his way. I was in the process of moving the hose when I looked over at Dad as he made his return trip from the back yard, and his lawn mower was on fire. Dad was totally oblivious to the flames, even though they were were about two feet high and flickering just behind his right shoulder.
Dad had seen me moving the hose, so when he got to the driveway he turned around and stopped, waiting for me to finish. What he saw instead was me standing on the lawn yelling "Fire!" at the top of my lungs. He just sat there and looked at me quizzically, unable to understand what I saying or what I meant, while the flames continued to burn behind him. I quickly turned on the water spigot and grabbed the hose and started running towards the lawn mower. In keeping with the unfolding fiasco, the hose caught on a bush while I was running full out, jerking me onto my arse on the lawn. Dad was staring at me from his motorized fireball as if I'd lost my mind.
At that point, Mom walked out onto the porch to see what all of the commotion was about. She looked at Dad and saw the flames and snapped "Vake! Get off the mower, it's on fire!" He heard her perfectly (50 years of practice), and looked over his shoulder to see the flames.
Dad's eyes opened wide in alarm, and I could see from his facial expression that his brain was telling him to beat feet. Only his body didn't know how to move fast any more, so his version of beating feet was what your average citizen would call extreme slow motion. Since I was expecting the gas engine on the mower to explode at any time, it was like watching the 10-second countdown timer on a bomb ticking away and not knowing if he was going to beat the clock. The adrenaline was pumping!
About the time that Dad finally got off the lawn mower, I got the hose freed, and put out the flames. Mom shook her head and went back into the house. When I walked up to the lawn mower for a closer look at the damage, I discovered the source of the flames. When dad had been mowing on the south side of the house, he'd apparently driven under a low-hanging tree limb and it had knocked the cloth hat off his head and onto the hot motor behind his seat.
This incident occurred in Dad's late 70s. Dad had already developed Parkinson's disease and he'd had a stroke, so his mind and body had both slowed down a bit.
I was visiting Mom and Dad at their house in Dunes city, when Dad decided to mow the lawn on his riding lawn mower.
Dad's mowing pattern was U-shaped; he'd start from the driveway and mow a path across the front lawn, turn right and mow along the south end of the house, make another right and mow a path along the length of the back yard, then loop around and return to the driveway.
I looked out the window and noticed that a garden hose was laying on part of the front lawn, so I went outside to move the hose out of his way. I was in the process of moving the hose when I looked over at Dad as he made his return trip from the back yard, and his lawn mower was on fire. Dad was totally oblivious to the flames, even though they were were about two feet high and flickering just behind his right shoulder.
Dad had seen me moving the hose, so when he got to the driveway he turned around and stopped, waiting for me to finish. What he saw instead was me standing on the lawn yelling "Fire!" at the top of my lungs. He just sat there and looked at me quizzically, unable to understand what I saying or what I meant, while the flames continued to burn behind him. I quickly turned on the water spigot and grabbed the hose and started running towards the lawn mower. In keeping with the unfolding fiasco, the hose caught on a bush while I was running full out, jerking me onto my arse on the lawn. Dad was staring at me from his motorized fireball as if I'd lost my mind.
At that point, Mom walked out onto the porch to see what all of the commotion was about. She looked at Dad and saw the flames and snapped "Vake! Get off the mower, it's on fire!" He heard her perfectly (50 years of practice), and looked over his shoulder to see the flames.
Dad's eyes opened wide in alarm, and I could see from his facial expression that his brain was telling him to beat feet. Only his body didn't know how to move fast any more, so his version of beating feet was what your average citizen would call extreme slow motion. Since I was expecting the gas engine on the mower to explode at any time, it was like watching the 10-second countdown timer on a bomb ticking away and not knowing if he was going to beat the clock. The adrenaline was pumping!
About the time that Dad finally got off the lawn mower, I got the hose freed, and put out the flames. Mom shook her head and went back into the house. When I walked up to the lawn mower for a closer look at the damage, I discovered the source of the flames. When dad had been mowing on the south side of the house, he'd apparently driven under a low-hanging tree limb and it had knocked the cloth hat off his head and onto the hot motor behind his seat.
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