Saturday, September 2, 2006

You must get the roots

As a kid, one of my many crappy responsibilities was pulling weeds from the driveway. And we couldn't just pull the weeds, we had to "get the roots" or there was hell to pay. Supposedly if the roots were pulled, the weeds wouldn't grow back. Whatever. The asphalt driveway was 11 years old back then and lined with rotting, pointless railroad ties; it was pretty certain the weeds would grow back or that new ones would take their place. Did I mention the driveway was and still is longer than some neighborhood streets?

Anyhow, my sisters and I have all suffered the wrath of weed pulling. We have all failed miserably, trying everything from a screw driver, to weed-be-gone, to strategically parking our dad's 6 riding lawnmowers and 4 cars along the edge of the driveway to hide the vicious, copious blades.

Like I said, we always failed, and were probably forced to dig weeds out of the jagged cracks with our teeth. I don't remember exactly, what our punishment was, but I know if wasn't good!

Now that all of us have moved on to college and beyond, dad decided that pulling weeds is a bunch of shit. He clears the asphalt driveway, which is now 25 years old, with a propane torch. I kid you not. He actually fries those naughty bastards to a crisp.

Today, out of daughterly love and fear for my dad's life, I followed his smoldering trail with a hose and pitchers of water. At one point he caught one of the dilapidated railroad ties on fire, but he just moved on while I stamped and poured.

He looked like he was having a little too much fun, and all I could think was "Dang, why didn't we think of this?" I'm sure using something that sounds and smells like a jet taking off is a little extreme for weeding a driveway, but I have always been one that is a little tiny bit extreme.

Hey, Hubby, it's time for a haircut...I know the clippers are broken, but don't worry. I've got a back up!

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