Denis Lehane: New year, new wheelbarrow
Denis's old wheelbarrow had been on its last legs for some time.
I have purchased a new wheelbarrow for 2025. It cost me a pretty penny.
But don't ye worry; I was able to spread my repayments over the long finger, so that has taken the sting out of it.
It will be fully paid for in three years' time, and we will say nothing more about the cost of the wheelbarrow, for I don't like talking about money, and I don't want to be broadcasting about my finances to the nation.
All you really need to know is that a sum of money was handed over and now my new wheelbarrow is proudly parked outside.
Suffice to say, my old wheelbarrow had been on its last legs for some time.
The milage was certainly on the clock; the rust most definitely on the body and the wheel was like the head of old Kojak.
I had cleaned out a calf house in early January in preparation for the busy season ahead, and as I went to empty my load, whatever way I swung my barrow, didn’t she drag me out onto the road.
If truth be told, I lost complete control of the contraption, plain and simple.
Call it speed, call it overloading, call it what you like.
All I know for sure is that I was now on a busy road that takes so many to west Cork.
It was no place for a banjaxed farmer to be with a banjaxed wheelbarrow.
Anyhow a car soon stopped, for it could be plainly seen that I was in serious trouble.
Out stepped a yank who had been heading back to his holiday home by the coast.
He was well-clued into the misfortunes of rural life and had sensed trouble.
I told him that my wheelbarrow had taken a mad turn to the left, which he seemed to understand, for he looked at my old wheelbarrow the way a professional might.
Then he announced that he was a top engineer who had worked with NASA for many years.
And that he had seen countless rockets do the very same thing on numerous occasions.
"Let me at it," says he, as he rolled up his sleeves and spat on his hands.
Soon he was under the barrow adjusting this thing and that.
"Well, I never," says he, and he clearly after seeing something that intrigued him greatly.
"Will I empty her first?" I roared "No," says he. "I need to examine her fully laden."
He was an expert, all right, and had a big bag of tools to prove it.
From under the barrow I then heard him mutter something about 'wheel alignment' and 'propulsion capacity.'
It was all far too technical for an uneducated man like me, all I do know was that when he had finally finished, the wheelbarrow was no better than it had been before.
Well, if a NASA engineer couldn't fix my wheelbarrow, nobody could.
So I emptied my load onto a nearby ditch and swung for home on what would prove to be my old barrow's final voyage.
Like the space shuttle before her, she was headed for the scrap heap.
I wished the NASA engineer well. "Enjoy your holiday back there by the coast in between all them movie stars."
"Oh, I will," says he, "and you enjoy your new wheelbarrow." He had grown very fond of the humble wheelbarrow you see, and that was no surprise.
For while the wheelbarrow will never take a man to the moon, it can certainly move the earth, when in the right hands.
