I would like to warn all readers that the following story will most likely be severely embellished in order to both keep tension high and up my word count. Nevertheless, this small story, as insignificant as it may eventually seem was mere inches away from changing my ambulatory lifestyle. I currently stand proudly on two legs a reminder that I am very lucky, as well as a danger to all living creatures when armed with a chain saw.
I also would like to apologize to my favorite pair of Levi’s: you served me well, but in the end the STIHL won.
This particular event occurred almost two weeks ago… I am only now regaining the courage to discuss it. The day started as many others had, an early wake-up call, a cup of coffee and a dusty road leading to a post driver and hours of fencing. This day, however, began to take a much uglier shape starting with Bill’s announcement that he would be taking the day off, leaving the days work up to three 20 year old men. Things took a second sharp turn when we were informed that we would not actually be doing any fencing, but instead would be clearing the edge of the forest so we could later put in fence. That told me that we were in for a long day, or several long days, or maybe even weeks, of toiling in the hot Virginia sun so we could gain 10 more feet of field space (believe me, the cows would never notice the extra few feet). Even still, I was OK at this point. A little annoyed, but perfectly fine. Things really took a turn when I was handed the most horrid of machines, the Coupe De Grace of all things dangerous, the most lethal and most useful of mankind’s idiotic inventions…the chainsaw.
To be honest, I’m not exactly Tim the Tool Man Taylor. I’m fine fixing my bike, putting windshield washer in the Buick or turning the air conditioner on and off. Yet when it comes to heavy machinery, tools and I get along about as well as Lindsay Lohan and a cocktail waitress. I’m not necessarily scared of machinery, but I’ve cut my own ankles with a weed-whacker one too many times to call it a loving relationship. So when Bill handed me a full sized STIHL chainsaw I immediately saw my life flash before my eyes, a blurry mess of floor parties and Bar Mitzvahs all compressed into 15 ruthless seconds. Then Bill began mumbling about my urban incompetence.
This is what it all came down to. Was I going to face my fears and tackle the forest or was I going to cop out and forever preserve my lack of masculinity in the eyes of Bill?
I’m not going to draw this story out too much longer for the sake of my own sanity. Lets just say that after a few minutes of trying to get it started, and a few more minutes of actually cutting stuff, I nearly eliminated all possibility of ever being drafted into the NFL (2013 draft here I come) as a two legged long snapper. I somehow decided that I needed to cut down a rather small pine tree, and deemed it necessary to cut at a downward angle towards myself. In hindsight I’m sure I could have devised a more intelligent approach to the tiny tree but that’s the funny thing about hindsight, it is markedly poor at predicting the future. After going through this sapling with relative ease, I managed to continue my downward motion directly into my thigh.
I’m not exactly sure what happened in the next few seconds, but I found myself standing with a chainsaw deeply embedded into the leg of my jeans. Somehow my Levi’s had caused the chainsaw to stall and, instead of continuing on into my pasty thighs, stop at the cloth. I stood with the saw dangling from a torn piece of denim as the two guys I was working with sauntered over. This turned out to be one of those moments (of which I have had few) that caused me to stop and really analyze my life. Generally, I do not prescribe to most orders of faith; a simple glance at the front page of the NY Times usually leaves me very sure that we are utterly alone on this planet. Yet every once in a while, when denim somehow protects one’s femoral artery, it seems appropriate to pause and ask myself if we are simply lucky by happenstance or lucky because something wants us to be. I know I am not alone in this occasional sentiment, those moments when we suddenly feel it necessary to question how exactly we were not eliminated by oncoming traffic or crippled by a fall down the steps. I am not saying these moments are frequent, but try to preserve the feeling next time you emerge unscathed after drifting into oncoming traffic while texting.
I decided to put down the chainsaw for the rest of the day and busied myself collecting and piling brush as well as using rose pruners wherever I could find a practical use. This, of course, didn’t have all the glamor of wielding an object commonly featured in horror films, but it was significantly safer. By the time I got home that evening I had decided to Google “Ways to safely use a chainsaw” and discovered that if you refrain from being an idiot, you will be fine. AKA: don’t saw towards the meat of your left thigh.
The next morning I picked the saw up and cut down every goddamn tree in my way. I have spent the last two weeks trying to offset that carbon footprint…
In matters of denim wear, I have concluded that I owe my life to Levi’s jeans and will never buy another brand…here is the website. If you appreciate your legs go ahead and buy a pair. If you don’t go ahead and invest in some Seven’s.
In all matters of faith I have, as a result of this incident, revisited mine. It had been a long time since I had truly devoted myself to anything and I decided it was time to revisit the “house of worship.” So, as all young men and women do at one point or another, I grabbed the closest beer and put Springsteen on as loud as I could. For you fellow worshipers, here is a little tune to undue all of life’s outrageous inconsistencies and solidify life’s outrageous moments. Actually, that video says little of true importance but make sure you watch for the moment when Clarence Clemons has to hold Bruce up.
Remember, there is nothing worse than playing with your socks down. DON’T let life catch you with your socks down…that’s what The Boss always says.
Rod
