I Played Chicken With The Good Humor Man!

A reposting from yesteryear

It was nearing dusk. I had just finished the front yard and was maneuvering the big rider down the driveway, around the landscaping and into the street to get to the side yard. That's when I saw him! The Good Humor Man! Two hundred yards down the street and heading in my direction, prowling the streets of my neighborhood, tempting the children with his sugary, frozen confections.

Quickly estimating his speed, approximately in excess of 12 mph and mine at a brisk 5 mph, I immediately realized that we were on a collision course. My life flashed before my eyes. You could feel the tension begin to charge the atmosphere, as I became acutely aware of the neighbors, jaws dropped, peering out windows and through the smoke of their bbq grills from their backyards, at the drama unfolding before their eyes in the street. But I stayed my course, refusing to swerve or back down I could now see him clearly. The big white truck moving formidably towards me. He was closer now. So close that I could hear the sinister theme from, "The Sting," playing through his outboard speakers. I dropped the blade and shifted into 5th gear, in a blasting attempt to answer the threatening music. The big 12.5 HP, 38" cut mower leaped to a brisk 7 mph.

Closer now, I tried to make out his appearance through the big windshield, hoping to get a glimpse of the fading sun reflecting off a patent leather bow tie. Suddenly, the chicken race scene from the movie, "Rebel Without A Cause," flashed across my mind. Would the leather cuff strap of my motorcycle jacket hang on the window crank, keeping me from self ejecting to safety? Looking down at my arm, I was relieved to see that I was wearing a tank top and the mower had no window crank. A serene sensation flooded my being.

Then with only as little as 2-3 minutes before impact, I cut hard to the left into the side yard, grass flying from the side deflector. On the second pass the great white truck waddled past my house. I had averted catastrophe. Would the beautiful Appalachian Princess, awaiting my return inside the house, ever know the pitfalls her gray haired hero faced during the course of seemingly harmless yard work? I could only wonder if she had any change for an ice cream.

We'll meet again someday, Mr. Good Humor Man! On a lonely stretch of boulevard some dusky evening. For now, sleep well and remember the challenge of your day. Then maybe on that, someday,� we'll see if you really are a man of good humor! Hah!