“There’s nothing hotter than a chick with a weedeater.”
I dragged my eyes from the yowling baby leopard trying to figure out how to get down from the limb of a ‘tree’ made of telephone poles, tilted my head farther up and wrinkled my brow at my son. “What?”
He continued to stare at a group of khaki clad zoo employees, most of them male, surrounding a young woman wielding a power tool in a planting bed. The whir of the engine strained at whatever she was trying to cut behind the tall stand of lantana. The brown husk of a dead banana tree toppled to the ground. The girl’s satisfied smile glowed as she wiped her face on the back of her gloved hand. She hoisted the tool to her shoulder. It turned out to be a chainsaw on an extension pole.
“I was wrong,” my eighteen-year-old son sighed. “The only thing hotter than a chick with a weedeater is a chick with a chainsaw.”
“Really?” I asked, taking a minute to size-up my six-foot-four, size fourteen shoe, little boy. The one with a healthy growth of black whiskers proudly decorating his chin. The same one who used to solemnly announce “I cried for you,” each and every time I picked him up from mother’s day out, his huge brown eyes like a lost fawn.
“Yeah,” he said, watching the girl load the dry fronds on a little trailer attached to a utility vehicle blazoned with the Audubon Zoo logo.
“Hmph,” I said, glancing at his older sister who shrugged and rolled her eyes.
The sexiest girl in New Orleans drove off, desiccated banana leaves rattling behind her. We strolled on, marveling at the salmon-hued flamingos, acrobatic river otters and lurking alligators, but behind all the sights, I was thinking of the father of my children, who’d declared many a time that there was nothing hotter than a girl driving a tractor.
Must be a genetic predisposition to women capable of doing what’s traditionally considered ‘men’s work’. Are the men in my family alone in their admiration of a female bending nature to her will with the help of a diesel engine? Is it an isolated reverence? Or are there others out there who experience the stirrings of desire when a woman claps on a welding helmet?
If TV is anything to judge by, it appears that many American males fantasize more about girls playing volleyball on the beach in skimpy bikinis, or maybe wrestling in baby pools filled with pudding in skimpy bikinis. I must admit to a certain amount of pride in my boys, considering that the women that draw their eye do so in work boots, gloves and practical fabrics.
Maybe it’s the fact that women who are handy are usually in pretty good shape physically. Or maybe it’s just about attitude. Whatever. I like the idea that my guys equate capability with sexiness.
So, for all you girls out there looking for that slinky dress or those stiletto heels, something that will capture the attention of the opposite sex, forget about all that stuff.
Invest in a chain saw.