Excited fans of the latest sport will soon scramble for the best curbside seats on their streets. If the trend catches on, entire neighborhoods will listen for the cry, "Gentlemen, start your lawnmower engines!" The lawnmower racing season will soon begin in Britain and the United States. Across the pond the sport is headed by the British Lawn Mower Racing Association, whose motto is "Per Herbam Ad Astra" — Through Grass to the Stars. Racers in the United States follow the rules and regulations of a similar group. A spokesman for the British group told Reuters, "The sport appeals to people from all walks of life attracted to the smell of engine fumes, the spectacle of daredevil maneuvers and the honor of crossing the finishing line first." Any riding or push-type mower designed to cut domestic lawns can be raced and some engines for riding mowers are souped up to reach 50 mph. Full-size farm tractors and combines needn’t apply, thank you. Several signs should indicate whether your next-door neighbor is leading a double life as a lawnmower racer: When asked to describe your neighbor, the best comparison you can come up with is a cross between Jeff Gordon and Edward Scissorshands. You never see him mowing his lawn without a stopwatch in his hand. His lawn goes uncut for several weeks at a time. One reason is that he’s off to the races. Another reason is that racing lawnmowers are required to have their blades removed and it’s not all that easy to remove and replace the blades on a daily basis. When he does mow the lawn, it’s always in record time. Because he mows his lawn so quickly, his lawn is free of obstructions such as birdbaths, wishing wells, shrubs and lawn furniture. Actually, those objects were all reduced to shreds by the neighbor early in his lawnmower racing career. His mower is the only one on the block covered with racing numbers and sponsor decals. Small children in the neighborhood are warned to stay away from his yard. He has only one movie in his home video collection — "The Lawnmower Man." The neighbor has converted your normally quiet suburban street into a drag strip for his mower and any drive-by challengers. And then there’s the incident. Heading for a checkered flag at the finish line has become such a focus in his life that he can hardly be blamed for what happened to the unfortunate neighbor woman. While he was making his trial time laps around the backyard on a recent Saturday morning, she showed up at his back door to borrow a cup of sugar. She had inadvertently dressed that day in a black-and-white checkered muumuu. The muumuu fluttered in the breeze. From her hospital bed later in the day, the woman could hysterically recall hearing the roar of an engine, turning around and coming face-to-grill with a side-discharging, grass-mulching John Deere LT155. (The local lawn implement dealer was kind enough to contribute those technical details for the police report a couple of days later.) The woman neighbor’s most vivid memories of that morning were a threatening blur of green and yellow and the victorious "Yahoo!" of her neighbor. A mishap like that would definitely be a sign.
