I'd passed a quaint small engine repair place on Ebert Street dozens of times and figured I'd give it a go. I dropped off the mower, the guy wrote down my information, and off I went. Not much to it; it's one of those places where the relationship is fleeting but by god it's built on trust. He got my name and number and I gave a stranger my lawn mower.
Well, spring has sprung, as they say, and the weather's warmer and the rains have come and the birds are singing, and boy! has the grass grown. Seemed I'd better head back over to that trusty little local small engine repair place and pick up my mower. I swung by there last week with the truck. But there was no mower. There was no paperwork on it. Finally, the guy found my record in his computer and said my mower was picked up less than two weeks after I'd dropped it off. That means that somebody paid $47 and walked away with a mower that did not belong to him.
Look: it's my fault I didn't ask for a ticket or claim check or something. I was taken in by the small-town feel of the place. And I'm not saying the repair shop owner is really at fault, either. Was it a clerical error? Was there the coincidence of two Raymond Joneses using his services, and the other RJ liked my mower better than his? Who know? But it does occur to me that a crime was committed by whoever picked up and took my mower, because he absconded with property that did not belong to him.
So Thursday night found me at Sears. I've got a new mower and I cut the grass in the dark. The yard looks much better now, and I'll need to find another small engine repair shop.
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