The office visit
You can usually trust a family business in Knoxville. Good neighbors and the golden rule. I needed an office visit with my local Small Engine repair shop. “The Chainsaw Doctor will see you in a moment”. A one room shack with oil stained benches and tools strewn about. A Briggs and Stratton hospital ward with non-combusting 2 and 4 cycle engines. Instead of farm wagons -now SUV's zoom along the once rural country road.
Most homeowners have had to come to terms with their yard- be it ¼ acre in another 100 piece jigsaw puzzle neighborhood or one of few with lots 1 to 6 acres. Only the small minority hire out all yard maintenance. The rest of us are often in competition with the encroaching woods.
Freud said everyone needs an enemy- mine include scrubby white pines that sprout overnight and spread pollen like glaze on Krispy Kremes. I am also not a bit fond of tulip poplars, the least woody hardwood. My Stihl chainsaw failed me one Saturday when the sprocket drive froze up solid like a rusty push lawn mower left in the rain.
“You needed a new drive clutch so I replaced it with one I had on hand". Only $114 including tax and sharpening the chain. There was no biopsy specimen. “I tossed it in the pile of broken parts”. Like some people trying to decipher the secret bird language of doctors I was unable to ask for proof or do anything but write the check and walk away, seething.
I am over it now. Dissapation of anger is easier with age. The saw worked fine until…it happened again, frozen solid. As I stood in line at a different engine shop way out Clinton Highway I saw hopeful signs. When my turn came to give the symptoms I found myself talking not to a guy in coveralls but a plus sized Motorcycle Mama perched high on a barstool behind the counter. She waited out my serious recitation of the history of present illness, gave a grin, and with a lightning strike gave the chain brake on top of the saw a swat with her open hand like she was beating a dusty carpet . The drive spun freely. “No charge! Come again, sir.” I am sure I will. When you talk to a new doctor you know when it feels right. --James www.flight-of-ideas.com
Most homeowners have had to come to terms with their yard- be it ¼ acre in another 100 piece jigsaw puzzle neighborhood or one of few with lots 1 to 6 acres. Only the small minority hire out all yard maintenance. The rest of us are often in competition with the encroaching woods.
Freud said everyone needs an enemy- mine include scrubby white pines that sprout overnight and spread pollen like glaze on Krispy Kremes. I am also not a bit fond of tulip poplars, the least woody hardwood. My Stihl chainsaw failed me one Saturday when the sprocket drive froze up solid like a rusty push lawn mower left in the rain.
“You needed a new drive clutch so I replaced it with one I had on hand". Only $114 including tax and sharpening the chain. There was no biopsy specimen. “I tossed it in the pile of broken parts”. Like some people trying to decipher the secret bird language of doctors I was unable to ask for proof or do anything but write the check and walk away, seething.
I am over it now. Dissapation of anger is easier with age. The saw worked fine until…it happened again, frozen solid. As I stood in line at a different engine shop way out Clinton Highway I saw hopeful signs. When my turn came to give the symptoms I found myself talking not to a guy in coveralls but a plus sized Motorcycle Mama perched high on a barstool behind the counter. She waited out my serious recitation of the history of present illness, gave a grin, and with a lightning strike gave the chain brake on top of the saw a swat with her open hand like she was beating a dusty carpet . The drive spun freely. “No charge! Come again, sir.” I am sure I will. When you talk to a new doctor you know when it feels right. --James www.flight-of-ideas.com
posted by James at 1:17 PM
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