By Eavin Moore 

I’ve got an idiot brother-in-law. You may have one yourself. Mine is a fat slob, who had the good fortune to not only be the child of wealthy parents, but also to have landed my beautiful, but long suffering sister. I don’t have to worry about offending him in print because I’m not sure he can read. His name is Ted. 

Ted is an incompetent buffoon and the bane of my existence. He figured out early in our relationship that he doesn’t really need to know anything besides who to call when he’s in a jam. You guessed it, he calls me. 

Last Saturday was a perfect example. He called as I was having my first cup of coffee of the morning. My wife answered and handed the phone to me. She knew if I had seen the caller ID, I’d have just let it ring.  

“Good Morning Sport,” he said. He knows I hate when he calls me that. 

He wanted to know if I could come out to L.A. (lower Amazonia), with my trailer and haul his sorry butt and his even sorrier riding mower in to town for repair. You would think someone in his financial position would just hire a lawn service to take care of the grounds, but no, he makes Sis do it. My guess is that she treasures the time in the saddle, where the noise from the engine drowns out the sound of his voice.  

Anyway, he has this old 60’s model rider he got from his folks, that is basically held together with baling wire and duct tape. He insists it will last forever, but my guess is that he could have replaced it with new for what he keeps spending on repairs. Obviously you can’t reason with an idiot.  

I told him I had some other plans, but he whined and ultimately I knew he’d just have Sis call me back and I’d end up doing it anyway, so I loaded up and head out. 

We pushed his P.O.S. mower up the ramp (I pushed, he steered), and headed in to town. He’d heard about some shade tree mower guy that works out of his garage, but he wasn’t home. I told him we’re going to Horizon Outdoor on the south end of the Belt.  

“Oh no,” he said. “Those big dealers are expensive!”  

“Shut up you moron,” I told him. “Either take this thing to professionals who can solve your problem, or I’ll dump it and you with it on the side of the road!” There wasn’t much else he could say to that, so he kept his mouth shut and pouted until we pulled in the lot. 

“Oh, they have John Deere” he said. “I’ve heard of them.”  

I just shook my head. We dropped his junker in the service area and while we waited to have it checked out, we watched while a salesman was demonstrating mowers for another customer. We saw lawn tractors in JD green, as well as zero turning radius mowers from Gravely. When the service tech came out and told us his old mower was not only beyond repair but completely unsafe as well, I gave him a choice: either buy a new mower or I would tell Sis how his last business trip to the West Coast was really a week of debauchery in Vegas. 

He caved and bought the Gravely. I didn’t mind the blackmail. I knew he had the bucks, and besides, the price was right and I knew my sister wouldn’t be taking her life in her hands every time she used it. We went inside to do the paperwork and that’s when this story took a wicked turn. 

We went in the door to the showroom and were surrounded by toys. Big Boy toys! Four-wheelers. Personal Watercraft. MOTORCYCLES! Horizon Outdoor is the local dealer for both Kawasaki and Suzuki. We started toward the sales desk but the moron made a sharp left and headed for the bikes. Before I could stop him he had his big giant behind on a little tiny dirt bike, twisting the throttle and making motor sounds with his mouth.  

“Get off there!” I told him. “You don’t even know how to ride a motorcycle.”  

“A lot you know,” he replied. “It just so happens, I took a motorcycle safety class at Hillyards last summer.” He pulled a certificate from his billfold and thrust it at me. I was surprised, but at least he let me guide him towards something a little more size appropriate. While I stood there with my mouth open, my idiot brother-in-law test drove the prettiest Vulcan “Mean Streak” you ever saw. Now there I was hauling his new mower home on my trailer, while the big buffoon followed me on his new bike. I hate him. I really truly do. 

I thought ‘When I get home, I’ll grab the wife and run back out there myself.’  There’s a Suzuki Boulevard that caught my eye, and maybe I can convince the bride how good she would look riding on the back. (And she does like leather!)   

Maybe you should run out yourself. See the nice folks at Horizon Outdoor and I bet they’ll tell you to, “Come Look At My Stuff!”