The lawnmower of time

My grandfather was cheap. Actually, cheap was an understatement. So, when I was a child, (the middle of three) I joined my brothers in mowing Granddad's grass. Granddad had a push mower that had a rotary blade. It was the first "eco" friendly mower I have ever met or used.
Imagine my surprise when I purchased one for our yard. It was a hoot.
I ordered it online because it was not available in the store. When I went to pick it up, I walked through a color guard of tractor mowers poised to be taken home by anyone who needed to mow a small ranch. And of course I was at the wrong place. At the other end of the building, I would find pickup. So back to the car, around the corner, and into a small, dingy room in which no living employee was to be found. Instructions were simple, insert the bar code into the machine, or run through the card that had purchased the device. The bar code was unreadable, so I fished for my card. Five minutes later, the stock person arrives with a box. It is not a large box, nor is it a small box. It is neither heavy or light.
The adventure begins. We take the box home and I set it down. My youngest son, is eager to open it and get it going. (Poor child, he has no idea what is in store for him) So, I take out my trusty tool kit and open the wrong end of the box. One knows it is always the wrong end, because it is the one I open. I cannot get anything out of the box. I am being careful because if I have to return this item, I would expect the company to want the box in the best possible shape.
At last, the main part of the lawnmower is pulled from the box, and it is relatively easy to put together. That means it only takes me an hour to get it up and running. It is with a great deal of sadness that I confess I have the home mechanical skills of my father. Although one of the world's great mechanics, everything he touched at home, meant calling a specialist to repair what he had done and fix the original problem. So, an hour for me was a great feat.
Out to the yard we went. It had suffered neglect as we had been concentrating on putting in the rose beds to help with the scarcity of water. It was our effort at Xeriscaping. The waves of memories washed over me as I was a 10 year old back mowing Granddad's grass. What I didn't remember hearing was a voice saying, "Dadd!, don't hog it all, I want to mow!" Somehow, this relic from the past had a pecular attraction to my X-Box son who had never seen such a contraption. So, being the gallant father I am, I turned it over to him.
Strange child, this. Now all he wants to do is mow with the new mower. I have to tell him we have to wait for the grass to grow. Interesting the difference generations make.