Gasoline, Grass and Rain
29Jun2007
Riding to the squash court earlier in the week I was caught behind a truck full of cut grass and industrial strimmers (aka garden string trimmer). As it pumped out gasoline fumes the rain came down and I was reminded of my days between school and college…
I used to cut grass on a British army base using one of those strimming machines. There was a great sense of achievement looking back at a mile of grass you had just cut down with your petrol-powered spinning piece of string. When it rained the sensation was even better, because nothing smells better than cut grass after rain (well, almost nothing).
The only issue with the job was the attire. I used to have to wear full foul-weather gear. In the rain. And in the sun. It makes sense to wear that sort of gear in the rain, but when the sun is beating down?
People would look at you strangely as you baked – your hood pulled tightly, sweat dripping down the inside of your rain suit, and the only part of you exposed to the elements covered by sunglasses. They would ask “Hey, boy, the weather is great – why don’t you just wear a t-shirt and shorts?”.
To which you would respond by pointing at the security patrols with their large, well-fed German Shepherd dogs. Then you would point at the presents those large, well-fed German Shepherd dogs would leave for you in the long grass. At which point they would look at your rain suit and realise it wasn’t camouflage at all – it was a green suit with lots of large brown patches on it. Their eyes would widen as realisation set in …
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