I was sitting at my computer this afternoon, just about to write my blog post (before bedtime! with a clear head! not just trying to get it done!) when I heard C run into the house, calling for his sister.
“Come ‘ere! The tractor’s on fire! No, like really on fire!”
Despite the fact that he didn’t come in to let me know, I figured I ought to investigate and make sure Dude was ok. I went out to the backyard to find Dude with a fire extinguisher in his hand and flames shooting out from under the riding lawn mower.
I asked if I should get the other extinguisher, and told Girl-E to go find it. Then, as Dude finished off the first extinguisher and the flames got bigger, I asked if I should call the Fire Department (of which I’m a member)–and then decided for myself it’d be a good idea, seeing as how Dude had just filled the gas tank and the mower was sitting on a lawn full of leaves.
A friend (on the FD) showed up first and started dowsing the flames (which were now at least as tall as he is) with the garden hose after calling dispatch back to update them that it was in fact fully involved and at risk for brush involvement.
Then the rest of the firefighters showed up and put the fire out pretty quickly.
But yeah, that mower is toast–crispy, burnt toast.
Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get to that post I was about to write…