Groundhog Day

Entry to:

333655

The Writer's Cramp  [13+] Write the best story or poem in 24 hours or less and win 10,000 GPs! by Sophy mostly offline til 2/28

Prompt: "Write something about a do-it-yourself job gone awry."

735 words

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"Good fences make good neighbours." Robert Frost

But trying to build a good fence may cost you a good neighbour. Dad meant well, but I should have declined his generosity.

Ken and I had huge pie shaped yards next to each other and we agreed to share the expense and effort, of building our fences. Ken and I were rookies at home improvement, but Ken’s skills far exceeded mine. So my contribution, in addition to sharing the expense and muscle, was my dad, who agreed to supervise our efforts, as he was not healthy enough to actually pitch in. His job was to sit in a lawn chair and provide directions while holding his yappy, four pound poodle, Snooky, on his lap. This appeared to be a fair trade.

We planned to use the first weekend to erect the fence posts. Between our two yards we had over fifty posts to install; which meant over 50 post holes. We had a manual posthole auger and we were young, healthy, willing and able. Besides, a few beers would keep the process going. The plan: dig a hole (each take turns), anchor the post and move to the next hole. We expected clear skies for Saturday and Sunday, followed by flowing beer.

Our supervisor, my dad, had a shortcut for us. The Groundhog - a gas powered two-man posthole auger. Dad rented it for the weekend, with the idea that it would save us hours of effort. Wrong.

It might have helped to have some “Groundhog” training first, or maybe even a “Groundhog” manual to read. But the best solution would have been: “Thanks, but no thanks.” This monster had its own plan for us, and it wasn’t pretty.

Ken grabbed one set of handles, and I the other. We stood facing each other with the gas motor between us, and the metal corkscrew for drilling positioned right over the middle of our target. I pulled the cord to get the motor started - first pull and the motor roared its greeting to us. As we let the weight of the machine take over, the spiral blade dug into the ground and buried itself like a corkscrew in a wine bottle. The Groundhog was anchored in the ground right down to the motor and handles. We couldn’t budge it. The more we tried, the more it hugged the ground.

So now we had the Groundhog stuck in the dirt with the blade buried 3 feet deep with no reverse on the machine and no way to disconnect the motor from the blade. No amount of twisting the machine would move it. Now what? What was our supervisor’s advice? He had none. Thanks.

We started digging with our shovels. After about two hours we freed the ornery contraption. Now we had a hole five times the size we wanted. The huge chasm we had created now needed to be fitted with our first fence post. Using the level, tape measure, and a large helping of dirt and water, we were able to get the post positioned exactly where it needed to be.

One down – forty-nine to go – and three hours behind schedule.

Having been burnt once, we took more care with the second hole. But it didn’t matter, the results were the same. The machine was buried up to the motor and we lost another 2 hours digging it out. Now almost 5 hours had passed and we had 2 fence posts secured. Forty-eight more to go.

On the third hole we got the hang of it. We lowered and raised the machine a little bit at a time and we got a perfect hole. But our arms were limp from raising and lowering the heavy monster. The third post was now secure. We did one more hole this way. But we decided this was too much effort.

We set the Groundhog aside and went back to the manual auger. Each hole took a bit longer, but we weren’t as exhausted. We didn’t finish installing the posts until the next weekend, after having lost most of one day to the “shortcut” that almost cost a neighbourly friendship. Dad was allowed to watch from his lawn chair, and pet Snooky, but we didn’t solicit any more of his advice.

After four weeks, we each had a good fence, and we each had a good neighbour. Robert Frost was right.