- I pick this song (and this version) to reflect the rolling, lumbering beat of steady labor.
One of the advantages to being in college the last few winters was that I was excused from most snow-related chores. Spreading salt, shoveling snow, and attacking ice – all someone else’s job (of course, working as student staff, I still had a load to carry. Bathroom floodings, broken windows, and drunken idiots – my problem).
For the first time in ages, however, I had a snow-covered driveway challenging me. My grandparents have quite an expansive driveway. It snowed steadily Wednesday, stopping only about an hour before dark. With more snow forecasted, my grandfather and I figured it was best to put off shoveling until the next day.
Thursday morning, I woke up, showered and ate, and took up a shovel. I have a lot of fortitude against the cold (I like running barefooted circuits through the snow, just for the heck of it), but the weather was fierce enough for me to actually put the hood up to my coat, which is saying a bit for me.
The mind wanders while shoveling, because it’s straightforward, mechanical work that doesn’t require much thought. See snow on drive – move it with shovel elsewhere. Repeat.
I thought back to earlier snowy days, with hours spent wielding a shovel. To take a line from the movie “Mystery Men,” I shovel well. I shovel very well.
Growing up, shoveling driveways for the neighbors was a quick, easy way to pickup some quick bucks during the winter. I wasn’t the only enterprising boy on the street, but since my main competition was an older boy who had learned how to snag a more regular paycheck, I had my pick of assignments.
Many hours were spent scraping metal against ice, concrete, and gravel. I was a determined worker. I took great pride in my work. I knew what had to be done and what it took to get it taken care of.
I wanted money.
More specifically, I wanted more money to spend on comic cards. For most of my middle school years, I funneled every spare dollar into procuring more comic cards. While others tried to collect the latest series of baseball or football cards, my circle of friends focused on collecting various Marvel and DC comic cards. In retrospect, I could have poured my money on comic cards or attracting girls, and at the time, the cards were shinier and more attractive.
Lots of time was spent studying others’ collections, bartering, and then scrambling to purchase more packs. Some of us worked out intricate verbal contracts to determine, if one of us died, who would get their cards. In theory, I’m technically slotted to receive four or five different collections, but I’d wager my agreement is far from legally binding. Also, when making these agreements, I didn’t really think about the trouble of collecting on said pacts (Hello Mrs. Emory. Sorry about your son. Remember those cards he used to collect?). Last, I would question if any of these promised pledges even exist. I’d wager some of them were long traded or sold, probably in the pursuit of previously mentioned girls who have become more alluring over the years.
Shoveling more meant getting more cards, so I became quite the entrepreneur on my block. I don’t want to think of how much money I raised shoveling driveways that was immediately plugged back into my card habit. My fuzziest estimates makes me wince, largely because they are more than what I currently have in my checking account. Granted, I don’t know if I would have spent it on anything wiser, but I sometimes look back and wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t been trying to complete the 1994, or the 1995 set, or the 1996 set…
Comic cards have become irrevocably linked in my mind to shoveling driveways, and the recent flurries stirred up these memories.
My mind eventually wandered to other old subjects, such as my revolutionary labor-saving tools.
I went through a brief theoretical inventing phase, largely spurred by wanting to get chores done more quickly so I could get back to playing. I didn’t build anything, because I lacked the time and resources and because I’d probably lop of an appendage or three in the production. It was easier, and safer, to mentally stew and think of better ways to perform the work at hand and maybe later sketch out the ideas.
One idea formulated on a below-freezing day was a flamethrower modified to clear frozen driveways. It would be a lot cooler than plugging in a simple snow blower, and using it would be inherently warmer.
Certain safety features would be required, of course. Insulated gloves would be important, more against the heat than the cold. Also, you’d want shoes with good traction to keep from slipping and inadvertently barbequing yourself. And though it would look less cool, the plume of flame would have to be cut back a bit. Regulators seem to more concerned with practicality of the aesthetics of pyromania.
Despite these in-built limitations, there would be some problems. Bordering greenery would certainly take a hit. Even a controlled flame is likely to turn some plants crispy. Still, if you took this into account with your budgeting, this could be acceptable. Putting aside extra money for topiary expenses would be easily offset by the ease and fun of treating your driveway with a mini-flamethrower.
And think of the neighbor envy. If the guy next door had a flame-kissed approach and you were stuck using the same-old banged up shovel, how would you feel? That’s what I thought. It totally sells itself.
I still think my theoretical invention could have practical application today. Of course, I think that applies to many of my designs. If you ask me nicely, maybe one day I’ll tell you the details behind my nuclear-powered windmill and my laser-powered combination grass cutting/sprinkler system. For now, I have to finish filing out my packet to the patent office.
Look for the Driveway Phoenix 2500© in winter 2006, at your local True Value Hardware Stores. Mention this post and watch people stare at you, uncomprehendingly.
said...
Two issues to bear in mind concerning the flamethrower:
1) Cats, or more to the point, cat owners would not be too impressed when puss comes home minus a tail and whiskers (or indeed minus a cat). Maybe you could invent some kind of early warning system.
2) It all sounds very Harry Potter-esque. Maybe you could introduce your invention to the world in the next movie - Harry Potter and the Order of the (Driveway) Phoenix. No?? Get patenting and write to JK Rowling now, before it's too late!
Caleb Michael said...
The Feline Fire Alert System is available as accessory, albeit one that is sold separately. Ask your local pet shop owner/tool vendor for details.
As for lawsuits, if I maintained the “World According to Gap” website for so many years without hearing from John Irving’s lawyers, I’m willing to take a similar chance with Rowling’s litigators.