It Isn't Easy Being Green

To steal a line from Forest Gump: “I am not a smart man.”

Now, in the movie Forest used this phrase to make clear to Jenny that despite his lack of intelligence he was able to both understand and feel love. I, on the other hand, have no need to follow this phrase with the word “but…”. For me there is no more. Simply put, I am not a smart man.

I’m the guy who looks for his glasses when they’re sitting right on top of his head. Or worse, the guy who searches the house for his car keys only to find that he already has them in his hand.

I say dumb things too. Once, in the seventh grade, someone was talking to me about a favorite Jan and Dean song. I responded “Jan and Dean? Who’s in that band?”

Perhaps it’s because I’m too quick to respond. I don’t think enough. The people who know me best say it’s largely because I don’t really listen when others are speaking. At my last school there were a number of teachers who would impersonate me by looking up with a blank face and saying “Huh?” Sadly, though, this wasn’t too far from being accurate. I do daydream a lot and I definitely have selective hearing.

Still, I can live with this. Probably because somewhere in the back of my mind I believe I could change. Somewhere in the back of my mind I believe that I really am smart. And then something like this happens…

Recently, the Department of Health and Environmental Control, along with Keep the Midlands Beautiful, hosted a lawnmower exchange in the parking lot of the Colonial Life Arena. Residents of Columbia were asked to “Mow Down Pollution” by trading in a gas-powered lawnmower in exchange for a heavily discounted electric model. The discount: $124 off the regular price of either a 14” mower (now $150) or a 19” mower (now $250).

This was very appealing. Tricia and I used to have an electric model and I loved how much quieter and lighter and environmentally friendly it was. However, dealing with the 100ft cord was maddening. If it wasn’t constantly coming unplugged (which it was) then it was constantly having to be tossed over to the other side of the mower so that I could turn a corner or change directions for my next pass. The mower eventually broke down and I really wasn’t too heartbroken about it.

So once Tricia and I checked our budget and saw that we could afford to replace our gas mower I checked the Neuton website to find out more. I was hoping to see that this electric mower would be different. That it would be better. The first thing I noticed: no cord! Instead, the mower was powered by a pull-out battery that charges in the garage. And then when I watched a small handful of videos offered on the website I noticed that it was so quiet you could actually hear people talking in the yard. You could hear birds singing. I can’t say that I remember ever wishing that I could hear the birds singing when mowing the lawn but now that I thought more about it I realized it would be awfully nice.

Another great feature I noticed was that there was no pull-cord. Instead, you simply press a big orange button and then pull back a lever on the handle. No longer could Tricia say “I would have mowed the lawn this morning while you were gone but I can’t get it started. I’m not strong enough to pull the cord.” She’s gotten a lot of mileage out of this excuse. With the new mower she’d either have to join me in the pleasure that is mowing the lawn or come up with a newfound grass allergy.

I was definitely sold. I checked the DHEC website and saw that the exchange began at 9am on Saturday morning. The first 115 people to show up with their mowers and a proof of residency would drive away with the new mower. Anyone coming later could still receive a coupon to be used when buying directly from the dealer, Neuton Mowers. I set my alarm for 7:30 and planned to leave the house at 8:15 so that I could be there right at 9:00.

Thanks to some speedy driving I showed up a few minutes early. I was just making the right turn at Greene Street when I looked down at the clock and saw that I was ten minutes early. I’ll just hang out on the street for a while until they’re ready to let people in, I thought. I anticipated being a bit embarrassed to be so early. I imagined I’d be the only one there.

I wasn’t.

The first thing I noticed was that they were already letting cars into the parking lot. A whole lot of cars.

The second thing I noticed was that the car in front of me was about to take the very last spot in the lot.
When I tried to pull in, the back end of our van was hanging out into the road.

The third thing I noticed was that when the volunteer working the entrance handed me a line card it read: sixty.

Sixty!

I was worried about being too early and having to wait a few minutes for them to finish getting set-up. Meanwhile there were fifty nine other cars in front of me. Fifty-nine cars that would have to snake through the lot. Fifty-nine cars that would have to unload their mowers. Fifty-nine cars that would have to make their way up to the one salesman. Fifty-nine cars that would have to choose what model they wanted. Decide if they want any of the accessories. Pay. Have their mowers loaded into their cars. Fifty-nine!

It was a much longer morning than I had anticipated. Two hours later I was finally pulling away with our new mower. However, the long wait didn’t end there. Once I got it home and assembled the mower I had to wait fourteen hours for the battery to charge. I was so anxious to start it so that I could hear the quiet hum I had been promised.

The next morning I headed out to the garage to finally start it up. I pulled the small charger chord out of the battery, lifted up the “hood”, and carefully slid the battery into its dock. As I remembered from the directions the day before, I pushed the orange button and then pulled back on the levers.

Nothing.

By this point Tricia and Ainsley were standing at the door watching. Sadly, starting the new mower qualified as quite a happening in the Hass household.

“What’s wrong?” Tricia asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered as I tried pushing the button again and then pulling the lever.

“Where are the directions?” she asked.

I picked them up from the floor. Thankfully I do not suffer from the stereotypical male stubbornness that is never reading the instruction manual or asking for directions. I’m generally thankful to get all the help I can.

I read the instructions again, pushed the orange button, pulled the lever. Pushed the orange button, pulled the lever. Pushed the orange button, pulled the lever. It was Einstein that said that "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Great, now I was both stupid AND insane.

I tried charging the battery at a different outlet. No luck.

I tried e-mailing the company for advice. No luck.

I tried using the replacement battery that Neuton sent me. No luck.

Finally after more than a week of the seemingly dead lawnmower sitting in our garage Tricia decided that she’d give it a shot.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“First you push that orange button and then you…”

She held the orange button down with one hand and then started to pull the lever with her other hand.

“No,” I said. “You don’t keep holding the orange button down. You’re supposed to let it up before you…”

The mower started right up.

“Never mind,” I said. I was both defeated and relieved.

After eight or nine days of reading the instructions over and over, complaining to the support folks at Neuton, and receiving what wound up being an unnecessary replacement battery, Tricia solved the problem in just a few seconds. The most important thing she probably did was to ignore my instructions and do what made sense to her. Things work out this way often. Far too often.

So I’d like to say this is the last boneheaded thing I'll do. That from here on out I won’t ask dumb questions, wonder what everyone around me is talking about, or forget what Tricia told me she really wanted for Mother’s Day. I’d like to say this. And somewhere in the back of my mind maybe I really do believe this could be true.

But I wouldn’t count on it.