So many funny thoughts I have about cutting grass, especially George and Jane Jetsons house. As a retired electronic technician I know electronic things go haywire.
I can envision that thing going cross country, cutting everything in site, stopping occasionally at various recharging stations.
Sunbathers all with a 2" crewcut saying "it went that away!".
A Rottweiler limping home, battery in mouth, trying to tell it's owner "it was a tough battle, but I ripped it's heart out."
Growing up on a farm, grandparents lived next door. Granddad was highly educated, a machinist, mechanical engineer, physician, osteopathic doctor. He was a mad scientist, always some new project. One day he comes back from the hardware store, six new reel mowers a spool of chain in his Packard. He removes all the handles, then chains them together like a big triangle...one in front, then 2 then 3. Then he chains them to his tractor and cuts around his yard. It was beautifully manicured because they cut individually, but ten feet at a time!
But, if grass the least bit wet, the wheels slid...so he made cleats. Then any stick, even a twig one would lock up. It became such a nuisance he gave up on the idea.
We never went to a barbershop since he bought electric clippers and cut everyone's hair. That was until the day Dad had a reverse Mohawk. Grandad's explanation was the attatchment fell off. For a few weeks I remember Dad putting brown shoepolish on that bald spot.
