CHAINSAWING SOME LOGS

Five men. Four chainsaws. Folks, grab your phone and press 91 and be ready to press the next 1.

Yes, there is nothing that will get the testosterone flowing like a day in the woods, chainsaws blaring, trees dropping, hands possibly getting detached. There were five men on this trip, but I am convinced I could have easily gotten the number into the thousands. I could walk into any crowded place and announce, “Who wants to go into the woods with a chainsaw?” and most every male in the place would drop whatever they were doing, not even stopping to see if I was Leatherface.

There is something about chainsaws that bring out the primal urge in man. The combination of the roaring engine, the smell of gasoline, and the sheer damage you can unleash with it makes it one of the single most greatest toys man has invented. If I could eat ribs and watch football while using a chainsaw, I am pretty sure I would vaporize into pure energy from the joy.

There was actually a functional reason for going, namely that I was running low on firewood. Indoor fires are my way of saying, “I am a rugged outdoor type, but one who doesn’t like to get too far from cable.” I try to have fires as much as possible, although no one can compete with my neighbor, Tim, who was also on the quest. Tim has only one requirement for having a fire: it has to be cold somewhere on the planet. I have been in the yard wearing shorts and a T-shirt and seen smoke billowing from his chimney. Fire is Tim’s world. We just live in it.

But because of Tim’s massive fire output, he was running low on wood. I told him that I was going to go gathering some wood, and he was immediately game. Actually, the conversation went like this:

ME: Hey, Tim, I was thinking of grabbing the ol’ chainsaw and…

TIM: Hop in.

The third wood cutter was Steve, a buddy of mine who has a truck. I have a Honda, so my car would have to be the kindling car. Steve would haul the big load. Steve doesn’t have a fireplace, but he was more than willing to come because, hey – we’ve got chainsaws.

My dad rounded out the group, and served as the spiritual leader, mainly because he has a chainsaw, two axes, and a maul. A maul! That’s just cool. (For those of you who aren’t familiar with a maul, it’s the love child of a sledge hammer and a big axe.)

So armed with the necessary tools and determination, we went out to some woods to begin our journey. You’d be amazed how angry park rangers can get!

Kidding! We went to some land where my dad’s friend Justin lives. He’s got acres and acres of hardwood, and we systematically went through, turning large trees into perfect sized logs.

And, just when we thought we couldn’t get any more manly, Justin pulled out the coup de grace. Folks, brace yourself – he had a Bobcat. (Editor’s note: No, not a big, wild feline. A Bobcat is a front-end loader. It’s also really loud and emits a lot of smoke, so we’re thinking Mike may have ingested a few too many fumes.) That’s right, a Bobcat. We’d trek through the woods, sawing logs, and he would plow along behind us with the scoop waiting for our bounty. And then, rather than haul the logs up to the truck, the Bobcat would pull up right next to the cars for easy unloading access.

After several hours of gathering wood, we had filled the vehicles to the brim and were ready to turn in. That and none of us could feel our hands or hear each other. But that was no matter, because the inability to hold small objects or hearing normal conversation for several hours is a small price to pay for gas powered destruction!

When we got back home, we unloaded all of our wood, and did a quick check to ensure that, as promised to the wives, all limbs were still attached. Indeed, we came back in the same shape that we left in, which, based on my wife’s look of surprise, was not something the oddsmakers were counting on.

I have enjoyed many fires from the wood. My woodpile is actually getting kinda lean again, and I may need to make another voyage into the woods. I am sure I’ll have no problem rounding up volunteers to go with me. For one thing, I’m bringing ribs next time.