Wheelbarrow sturdy.

[stanley]

Wheelbarrow (opening for a short story)

We didn't know why, but our father would on rare occasions decide to build something. As a carpenter he was not even average. His projects, to compensate for lack of structural logic, perhaps, were overly sturdy, massive that is. I remember the wheelbarrow. I was about half grown, and the handles, fashioned of two by fours' were as high as my chest. "This is a wheelbarrow in the old fashioned style, sturdy." he told us. And it was. Instead of a flimsy metal tray that was bound to last no more than a few decades, he had built a bed for it that was also of two by fours' set on edge face to face for a platform three and a half inches thick. The wheels were discs of solid oak. "No flat tires for this baby. go on take 'er for a spin"
Bravely, I managed one strenuous circuit of the yard. "Yeah, when you're a little bigger, we'll see how she handles a load. This baby will be around long after I'm gone. Your kids and your grand kids will be moving dirt and rocks or whatever with it whether they remember who built it or not."
On our small suburban lot there were few loads worthy of such a prodigious vehicle. It was a wheel barrow of a caliber for the transport of boulders and downed oaks and the carcasses of large horned animals, a wheelbarrow much like the one that Goliath of the Philistines pushed around his farm before he made the mistake of forsaking agriculture for a military career.

[DATo]

Dads! Gotta love em!

I am reminded of Ralphie's dad in A Christmas Story forever battling with that furnace *LOL*

Nice story. I particularly liked your, ... a wheelbarrow much like the one that Goliath of the Philistines pushed around his farm before he made the mistake of forsaking agriculture for a military career. *LOL*

You continue to entertain. Thanks for sharing your stories.

[stanley]

thanks for reading. Didn't real y know where it was going, if anywhere, but might try to finish it some day.