Friendly Neighbor with a Snow Blower: Disaster of 1998

This is a difficult story to tell without visuals (such as me using wild Italian-ish hand gestures), but I will do my best to illustrate the disaster through wordy words. (Thus, I employing the photo above, from solisnetwork. It's not exactly what happened but it sure is funny.)

Just so we’re clear, it’s all the wife’s fault. Keep that in mind while I’m telling this saga.

Back in the day—oh, 1998 BD--before dogs--the wife always accused me as being “unfriendly neighbor.” This title was earned because I really didn’t spend much time interacting with any of our neighbors. She claims I didn’t even wave to them, but it was more that I half-waved and then went into the house. (Okay, so that might be a LITTLE unfriendly but it wasn’t like I was giving anyone “the finger” or lighting poop-in-a-bag on the porch or anything.) I admit I wasn’t half as friendly as the wife was; she was always visiting or talking or discussing gardening—whatever. I was in the house having a cool beverage while she was yipping. It seemed better that way.

As I ALWAYS listen to the wife, I finally took her words to heart. On a very, very, very snowy evening, I decided to be FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR.

The wife had just purchased a new snow blower and I was very excited to see the snow, as this meant I would have the chance to use the new machine. I am SO about snow blowers. I was in winter bliss as I plowed up and down the driveway. Once done, I looked up and down our street. Hmm. No one else was snow blowing yet and the snow was piling up......

I decided that it would indeed qualify me for friendly neighbor status if I snow blowed a few driveways for our nearest neighbors. I plowed the neighbor to the north’s driveway, I plowed the neighbor across the street driveway, I plowed the neighbor to the south’s driveway. That seemed friendly enough. I was covered in snow and sweating like a pig, so I thought I’d call it a day. After all, there is only so much friendly one can take in one outing.

Then, I thought I should do one…more….driveway—the neighbor kitty-corner from us. They were a young couple and I knew they didn’t have a snowblower. What’s one more driveway? So, I pushed the snow blower across the street and gave one more round of Friendly Neighbor snow blowing….

….I should have stopped.

So, I push the snowblower right down the middle of the driveway, heading from the street to the garage. I’m not kidding—right down the middle—not to the left, not to the right—the middle. (This will be of significance in just a few moments.) I’m halfway to the driveway when there is this bloodcurdling SCRREEEEECH....
 

....the tree to the right SNAPS down toward the ground 

....the tree SNAPS right back up.....

....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the tree....

.....the snow blower SCREAMS like it’s been hit by a truck....

....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the garage gutters, B

AM BAM BAM BAM like a machine gun shooting off rounds. 

The brand new snowblower comes to a grinding halt.

Our neighbors had a large orange extension cord running down the MIDDLE OF THE DRIVEWAY. Now, why anyone would have an extension cord in the middle of the driveway, I do not know, but I DO know that it was attached to the Christmas lights on the garage and to the Chistmas lights on that poor little tree that bent in half as the lights ripped off of it. I couldn’t see the cord because it was under a foot of snow.

There I stood in the partially-plowed driveway, extension cord and Christmas lights sucked into the snow blower that no longer worked. (These lights, of course, were not the cheapy kind most people use these days. Oh no, these were the old-fashioned big lights, probably from their grandparents as a gift cuz those poor neighbors couldn’t afford new lights. These were the expensive kind you can’t buy anymore.) The gutter was hanging slightly off the garage. The lights, of course, were off and no longer softly glowing in the falling snow. How I wasn’t killed by electrocution, I’ll never know.

Since it sounded like a truck hit the house when this all happened, the neighbors came running out (in their bare feet, I might add). What could I do but say….

….”Uh, hi, I’m your neighbor.”

Suffice it to say that after a half hour, the neighbor guy got all the cords out of the snow blower (he had put his shoes on by then), the driveway never got plowed and I felt like a complete moron. (Just for the record: While I couldn’t replace the lights, I did buy them a new extension cord. It’s the least I could do. And, I didn’t try and snow blow their driveway ever again.) I sadly and slowly pushed the jammed snow blower back across the street and to the garage, not knowing if I had destroyed the new machine in addition to destroying the neighbor’s holiday decorations. Thankfully, the snow blower was no worse for the wear but it was still awful having to tell the wife about the dreaded snow blowing disaster of the day.

To be honest, those neighbors moved that spring.

So much for that friendly neighbor crap.