The diva and the Bobcat

You’re not gonna believe what I’ve done now. In fact, it is probably the last thing you’d expect.

I learned to drive a skid-steer loader.

For the past couple of years, I have been absolutely fascinated by those darling little Bobcat loaders. Every time I pass a construction site where one is being used, I sigh longingly and adore it from afar.

“You know what I’d like to have?” I asked a friend, who owns high-end tractors with air-conditioned compartments, bush hogs, bulldozers, front-end loaders and the such. “I’d love to have one of those little Bobcats. They’re adorable.”

“Actually, you seem like one who’d prefer a Jaguar over a Bobcat,” he said, grinning.

“I’m serious.”

“What on earth would you do with a Bobcat, if you have one?” He asked.

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. What can you do with one?”

He rolled his eyes. “Take my advice and buy a Jaguar instead.”

It was a glorious day for me when I discovered that my beloved brother-in-law, Rodney, who, too, possesses a playground of similar toys, owns a Bobcat.

My eyes widened with joy. “You have a Bobcat?” My already high admiration for him soared.

“Yeah. You wanna learn to run it? There’s nothin’ to it.”

Quicker than the time it takes for Dixie Dew to eat a pork chop, I said, “YES!”

We didn’t set a scheduled time for my lesson, which is how I came to be dressed in a prissy skirt, tee shirt and high heels when Rodney stood up from the breakfast table while I was visiting and said, “C’mon. Let’s go run the Bobcat.” He glanced down at my heels and shook his head. “You can’t run it in those shoes.”

I panicked. I didn’t want to miss the treasured opportunity.

“I’ll find you some shoes,” my sister, Louise, said. She brought me a pair of flats and a towel to spread over my lap. She shook her head. “You’re gonna get filthy.”

I sighed blissfully. “Yeah, but I’ll be driving a Bobcat.”

So, Louise and our friends Sam and Clara gathered to watch and snap pictures as I learned to drive the equipment. Rodney patiently instructed me on driving, braking and scooping up and dumping dirt.

He opened the gates to the pasture. “Go out there and play. I don’t want you tearin’ up my yard. See, that big mount of dirt over there?” I nodded. “You can play with that. Just scoop the dirt up and drop it.”

As I drove past him, he yelled, “And don’t hit one of my cows, either!”

Though nervous at first, I got the hang of it and had as much fun as when I was a kid and got to drive those little mock cars at the amusement park.

“We’ve got to make sure we get good pictures of this,” Louise laughingly said to Clara. “No one’s gonna believe this!” A brief pause. “Of course, they won’t have any problem believin’ she’s out there in a skirt.”

Finally, I finished, albeit reluctantly, and drove the precious Bobcat out of the pasture and parked it at the edge of the driveway.

“Was that fun?” Sam asked.

“You betcha!” I was grinning from ear-to-ear as Rodney gave me his hand and helped me down. Just as an aside, it is even tougher to get down from a Bobcat in a ladylike manner than it is to get up out of a Jaguar.

A smudge of grease ran across the front of my skirt and as I brushed at it unconcerned, I cheerfully remarked, “I bet I’d be the most popular girl around if guys knew that I can drive a Bobcat now.”

Clara smiled. “What would really make you popular is if you had one sitting in your yard.”

Hmmm. Not a bad idea. Well, you know I was thinking of buying one, anyway.