A New Toy

I'm used to shoveling snow, lots of it. I've lived in snow country all my life except for a year in Galveston which was like living in a fishbowl with all that suffocating humidity. But as I get older and older, shoveling snow has become one of those tasks I dread about as much as I despise enemas. Back pain, shoulder pain - even my thumb hurt so bad last year from shoveling that I had to get a cortisone shot, yet another pain that reminds me of enemas.

So, we bought a snowblower. Now this was quite a change for my sister and me having been shovelers all our lives so we were a tad nervous about this new toy. Eager to use the cute, red machine sitting so primly in the garage, we looked forward to the first snowstorm. When finally the snow came in and piled up in the driveway, we started up El Toro, the snowblower, and took a deep, nervous breath. Lorraine, my sister, won the toss and  tentatively pulled up the handle.

Varoom! That little beast (El Toro) took off like a speed demon. Self-propelled, it had no concern about the lumbering, puffing person trying to keep up with it as it tore down the drive, eager to devour and spew snow out of its wide mouth. Frantically, Lorraine tried to keep up with it at the same time trying to maneuver not only the snowblower but the nozzle as well. First, the nozzle threw snow to the right, then to the left, then forward. I was waiting for it to blow back at her but no such luck. At one point as she tried to turn the machine to go back down the driveway, snow blew into the garage. But after a few minutes of tackling the learning curve we both were able to control El Toro enough to clean up the driveway and the walks. We were quite proud of ourselves.

Of course, we looked like snowdrifts waddling around by the time we were done and someone's going to have to shovel out the garage and it ain't going to be me.