THE GARDEN HOSE (Part 5 of 6)

THE GARDEN HOSE (Part 5 of 6)

© Jayson Slade 2010

Nobody used sunscreen in those days, so my skin felt like it was a little Worstershire sauce short of beef jerky. And I was thirsty by now. I mean damn thirsty. I may only do limb reconnaissance in low gear, but at that moment I'd have run the bases to get a drink of water. Full sprint to the garden hose by the carport. It wasn't rolled up. Of course it wasn't. That was my job. I'd make sure the faucet was turned on as far as it would go. It was. I'd trampse across carport gravel and follow the hose out into the yard. Not paying as much attention as I probably should, I'd have about a dozen ant bites and a couple of rock bruises before reaching the spray nozzle. Ah ha. There it was. Water. Agua.

I pronounced it with a "g" because my pre-elementary education consisted of Sesame Street's bilingual teaching methods. I.E. "boat... barco" or "dog... perro" and of course Kermit would sing "an apple is maaaanzaaaaanaaaa." So even though I did not speak fluent anything, except vanilla American, with much accuracy, I did watch alot of Sesame Street, so I knew, or didn't know as it would turn out, that water was pronounced "og-wah."

I raised the nozzle directly into my sun dried face and quickly pulled the trigger handle firmly. I was ready to enjoy the comfort of Mother Nature’s natural drink. But today would be the day that I'd be reminded of two very different things. A) just how much pressure could build up inside a stretched out garden hose that had been left wide open in the heat of the summer, and b) however much pressure it had build up, that shit gets hot.

I'm not sure if it was the scalding hot water that captivated my attention more or the immediate pain of having that first gallon of scalding water hit my face at 40 psi. Either way, I dropped the hose. It shut off automatically before it even hit the ground. Because of my carelessness it also took a gash out of my shin on the way down. Things didn't always have rounded edges in those days.

I shook my head, tossed my hair back and gathered what was left of my senses. Looking around for witnesses and seeing none, I picked the nozzle back up. This time pointing it in the other direction, I sprayed it out forward from myself for about half a minute. I held it wide open the whole time to let all the hot water escape. Checking from time to time with my finger instead of my cheek, I saw it was cooling off. It actually cooled off rather quickly to my surprise. Then, like any southern boy would, I folded the hose over and crinkled it between my stubby legs to cut off the pressure and unscrewed the sprayer off the end.


(to be concluded)