Blow Hard

Warning: This experience has been re-imagined..

Last week I participated with thousands of fellow members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints in celebrating Pioneer Day and Oregon’s Sesquicentennial by doing service in our communities. The Central Point and Medford Stakes worked with county administrators in being able to beautify the pathway known as the Bear Creek Greenway. The Greenway spans miles along Bear Creek. Locals know not to swim, wade or splash in the creek, due to health warnings of bacteria caused by runoff from storm drains.

Thankfully our work was not in the toxic water but consisted of pulling weeds, fighting back blackberry bushes and sweeping dirt and leaves from the path.

This sounds like dull work. However, sometimes you just never know when the stars line up in your favor, the traffic lights are all green and you find a chocolate iced cake donut on the ground without a bite taken. Yes, this was my lucky day. I had the chance to do something I’ve never done. No, it wasn’t work. I got my hands on a leaf blower! And, I just didn’t touch it with admiration, I actually used it!

As the long nosed machine was placed in my grasp, cold steely fingers wrapped around the handle, fitting into the grooves like it had been customized just for me. I carried the power tool down to the pathway with determination and courage, my chest muscles taut with rippling sinews, biceps bursting with power and my gut wiggling with each strutting step.

I finally arrived at the dirt and leaf strewn battlefield. The world would cower as I held the blood red air scepter. Raising the blower with one hand, the other hand clutched the starter cord, ready to let rip the most furious tsunami earth has seen. In one smooth but mighty motion I pulled the cord, waiting for the sound of whooshing wind. Nothing happened. Again I pulled to unleash the terror. Silence. I was sure the backyard hurricane maker was set on stealth mode.

Lowering the blower from over my head I flipped it over and back, looking for the cause of the malfunction. It was then I had to confess I had no clue how to turn on or operate the thing.

I glanced around to see if anyone were watching then popped behind a cement block to read the instructions on the side of the blower. After several minutes of cerebral intake I again yanked the cord. The blower snorted and sputtered but then, pulling the throttle, the blower purred to life. I thrust the blower into the air in an act of defiance. I soon realized I needed to stop the thrusting because this piece of hardware was heavy.

I lowered the beast and began to wreak havoc beneath the roads overpass. I grinned with glee as dirt and leaves instantly scattered like mice on hot tin, revealing the cleansed cement pathway beneath.

Blowing the refuse wherever I pointed gave me a sense of power. I controlled the elements.

I moved to some steps that had collected debris from falling leaves and sifting dirt. Pointing the blower toward the steps, refuse disappeared into oblivion. Shifting the throttle to rabbit run fast, the debris flew into the air causing an updraft that sent the rubbish flying toward the sky, twirling like a whirlwind, engulfing me in a dirt storm that settled on my perspiring arms, face, and eyes.

Temporarily blinded I staggered in a circle, rubbing the dust from my eyes not knowing I had pointed the blower directly at a passing bicyclist, swooshing him off his bike, sending him and his bike tumbling to the pathway.

Through blurry eyes I quickly turned the blower away from the now angry cyclist. Blowing dirt in every direction walkers and joggers gasped for breath, coughing and wheezing through the polluted air.

Through all the commotion I felt a harsh tap on my shoulder. I’d now lost control. Whirling around I inadvertently aimed the powerful stream of air directly into the face of an irate jogger. His cheeks filled with air like balloons and his lips flapped like paper in a cyclone. The jogger’s eyelids receded, causing eyes to look like marbles glued in his sockets while his hair blew straight like porcupine quills.

The jogger quickly dived to the ground, rolling away as if he’d been set on fire.

Pointing the blower into the sky I fumbled to find the throttle. More loosened leaves fell from the trees and birds tried to hold on with all their strength, digging their clawed feet deep into the branches.

Struggling in my state of panic I was tackled from behind and the blower was wrestled from my strangle hold. The owner quickly shut down the revving engine and shook his head as he hovered over my weakened body that was lying in the middle of the pathway. As he started to walk away I slowly reached out toward the machine that had caused so much havoc, hoping to stroke its scarlet side one more time.

For a few brief minutes I had been an all powerful mighty man who could move mountains, dispatch trees from their roots and cause ocean waters to recede.