Because a stroke on September 15, 2009, deprived
Mr. AOW of the ability to walk any more than a few steps, we have wheelchair ramps at our house: one from the street to the front door and one from the aforementioned ramp to the Little House (Mr. AOW's man cave since 1982).
We paid not a single dime for these two ramps because Mr. AOW's fellow veterans from the VFW and the American Legion built those ramps according to the guidelines of Comrade in Distress.
Recently, we needed another kind of ramp built so as to access The Red Shed, our big tool shed, which has always needed a ramp so that tool boxes and lawn equipment could be moved from therein. The original ramp, the one that Mr. AOW himself built in 1978, caved in years ago, so I had it replaced about eight years ago. The quality of wood used in that first replacement ramp was poor; as a result, it rotted out and became not only usable but also hazardous — a matter brought to my attention a few weeks ago when our realtor wanted to enter the Red Shed. His foot went right through that rickety ramp!
So, Mr. AOW called his Comrade in Arms Mike S., who came over as soon as the spring monsoons ended. Mike is a Vietnam War Era veteran. In other words, not a young man.