Mowgirl Lawn Care has adopted many new properties this season. We are proud of our accomplishments! My crew is stupendous. I often let them play without me. During those times I traipse off with my new pink trailer in tow, and do side jobs. These consist of yard clean ups, landscape rejuvenation, landscape design and implementation, mulch installation, etc. But first, let me tell you how I came across my new trailer, Thumper. It’s a really good story.
One day last summer I was doing some clearing of fallen trees, leaves and brush. A particularly large mound of debris was bothering me. It was in my path and I loathed the thought of clearing away all the leaves and branches that comprised the pile. With disdain I pushed forward filling barrel after barrel with yard debris. Finally I could delay the inevitable no longer…I had reached the monster mound. I went to get a drink of water and sat down and just stared at the pile. “Crap…” I muttered. “It’s a zillion degrees out, I’m getting a blood tansfusion from all these mosquitos bites, and now I have to attack this heap of debris….I hate my life.” I dragged my butt over to the pile and slammed my steel rake down on top of it, hoping to pull a good amount of leaves away. But my rake made a clinking sound and was stuck in the pile. I tugged and yanked and pulled but the rake wouldn’t come free. It was if some creature hiding within the debris had wrapped its clawed fingers around my rake, refusing to let go.
Now I was pissed off. I stomped into the pile, kicking crap out of my way, swearing like a sailor. As I neared the handle of my rake I was stopped. A wall of leaves, normally soft and airy, was suddenly stiff and solid…too solid to push through. “What the eff?” I said. With caution I felt my way around the leaves until my hands came to a stop on something very hard and sturdy…something NOT a bunch of leaves. I began throwing handful after handful of leaves off to one side until suddenly, beneath the monster mound I spied the back gate of a utility trailer! With the excitement of a kid opening a Christmas present, I tore away at the debris, revealing more and more of the trailer.
By the time I had it uncovered my joy had turned to disappointment. Both of the two tires on the 5’x8’ trailer were hopelessly flat. Rust had consumed much of the metal sides and gate. Two lights were broken. And to top it all off, the wooden floor was rotted through. In fact, a host of worms, snails and ants had made their home in the soft moldy wood…it had become a sort of miniature ecosystem.
I exposed the rest of the trailer, then tried opening the gate. It wouldn’t budge. I gave it a few good tugs, then as a last resort, kicked it. Violence worked! The gate slowly dropped toward the ground, protesting with a grating rust-induced squeak. I carefully climbed the ramp-style gate and stepped onto the deck. In an instant my foot sank into the mushy wood and then burst through the floor onto the ground. (Why did I think anything different would happen?)
I drove home that afternoon with all sorts of repair ideas for the feral trailer. If I could get air into its tires and hitch it to my car, I could get it home and better assess the damage. I’d need to check the frame, the axle, the bearings and the hitch. I’d need to scrape down the metal and repaint it. I’d have to replace the deck with fresh slabs of pressure treated wood. I’d have to check the wiring and find out if the broken lights were salvageable. But before I did any of that, I’d have to find out who the hell owned the thing. Who would release a perfectly good trailer into the wild to live off of nuts and berries, become one with nature, and basically go to seed where it sat? Did the owner hope the trailer would roll away in the quiet of the night? Or return months later with a new family in tow? Or maybe the owner was no longer with us. Or moved away and forgot the trailer the way I did to one of my kids last year when we went on vacation. It was a mystery for sure. And I was determined to get to the bottom of it. (…to be continued…)