I confess to a weakness for attractive women. I am a visual animal, after all and I figure “God gave ’em curves and gave me eyes. It must be my job to check ’em out!”
‘Course, things change with age. I admit that, too. I have actually passed beautiful women in the street and NOT looked! What is up with that? I have even passed beautiful women in the street and NOT even seen them! Like my eyes were failing or something!
That is so weird.
But the other day it became more clear to me. I saw. I looked. I stared. And I was seduced. I was completely enthralled. My friend Steve had given me the keys to the Kubota mini-excavator and it is just gorgeous! I call her Kubby.
OK, I know what is being mumbled out there…”How dare he compare an excavator to a woman! The bastard!” And I know that pursuing that comparison will only get me deeper in trouble with the women. Like digging yourself out of a hole……..not unlike using an excavator to get you out of a hole….
The point: I may have moved on from primal reflex staring at beautiful women (may have) because age alters all things hormonal. But nature also abhors a vacuum and what little testosterone I have left is being directed towards cute little excavators. OMG! What fun! (Do not let the serious look on my face fool you. I was grinning on the inside!)
Two magic joysticks control the little beasty. One is the ‘steering wheel’ and the other is the bucket/fork-lift control. You can set your speed and just leave it or you can set your ‘default’ speed and employ an accelerator pedal to over-ride that speed whenever you feel confident enough in what you are doing. The perfect recipe for a disaster! OMG! What fun!
I spent the first hour or so just slowly ambling about and tearing up the yard. I moved a few empty pallets and stacked them and then moved them again and stacked them again. It was great!
Then I decided to make it a menage a trois and I invited Sal to the party. I gave her twenty seconds of instruction, made sure there was plenty of room around her and set her free! She danced that machine like she was born to it. Placing pallets like doilies at a dining room table. She had a touch with the controls not unlike a surgeon. She was brill!
I gushed. “Wow! Sal! You were awesome. Right from the start – just moving stuff like it was an extension of yourself (actually, she was moving stuff better than if it was an extension of just herself. On her own, she can get a bit klutzy – see previous post about quilting and blood). I’m impressed!”
“I don’t get what all the fuss is about. It’s not hard. Piece o’ cake. I’m bored of this. I’m going in.” Then she looked at me like I was raving about playing with Lego or something and dismissed herself. Natural born heavy equipment operator.
I looked at her with new eyes as she sashayed those cute little equipment operator hips back to the house. Oooh….temptress-in-a-hardhat………thy name is Sally!