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Tortoise Mode vs. Hare Mode

When I was a boy, I had a ride-on lawnmower with no blades. I’d wanted a ride-on lawnmower for years, ever since my brothers and I found and restored-to-life a John Deere we found in the garage of a rental house in rural France. (The elderly neighbour, after observing

Then the engine would seem to lose power — anticlimax — before coughing and spluttering at the new fuel/air mixture, roaring to life at a new pitch, and accelerating with sufficient vigour to throw me back in my seat with a pleasant whiplash-like effect, and render bumps and potholes thrilling, fenceposts perilous, hearing useless, and grin enormous. At the same time, I landed a big contract, got complimentary emails from people with their own Wikipedia articles, broke my long distance running record, and had music industry showcases and consultations. I pulled farther from the road, comforted that there was a sturdy stoplight post between me and the oncoming beast, and peered around the corner ahead, expecting it to shoot into view being driven at reckless speed, possibly on fire with James Bond clinging to the trunk and a squad of police cars in pursuit.

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