Robots Change How We Keep up with Everything
Years ago, during the height of the Marcellus boom, I wrote a story about a lawn care guy who somehow knew more about my life than I did. One afternoon he casually mentioned I had a lodge meeting that night and apparently the fellow mowing my lawn and the guy cleaning the gutters were both better informed about our schedules than I was. That was life during the drilling years. I hired these jobs because I was busy and so was everyone. Everybody was working, everybody was moving, and somehow information traveled across Tioga County faster than natural gas through a pipeline.
Back then it seemed like every driveway had a pickup truck in it and every diner conversation involved drilling rigs, lease payments, or somebody working fourteen days straight. It was a busy time. A prosperous time for many. Looking back, what I remember most wasn’t the money or the activity. It was the pace. People were going somewhere. There was an energy in the air that extended well beyond the gas fields themselves.
Lately I’ve been feeling some of that same pace return to my own life. Between stone projects, writing, documentary work, and a handful of new ventures, I find myself spending more time on the road than I have in years. It’s a good problem to have. It comes with challenges. I try to judge my actions by my paternal Grandmother’s expectations. When Lisa’s mother asked why I was hell bent on shoveling her driveway after our own, I told her “My Grandma, (an old stately southern woman from the coal field mountains of West Va.) would come down here from Heaven and make me cut my own switch”. My soon to be mother in law’s reply, “We should pay you”- aw hail naw!
“Mom, that’s now how this works. I look after my own”. But it’s extra hard when your profession demands you to put thousands of mile on a pickup.
I’ve spent most of my life building things—businesses, walls, stories, relationships—and eventually those things start creating opportunities of their own. The downside is that opportunities tend to arrive with a full travel schedule attached. Just like so many of my readers who live life in hitches.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered that the challenge isn’t finding work. The challenge is making sure the people you care about are taken care of while you’re away doing it. My parents aren’t getting any younger. Neither are my soon to be in-laws . (Mom if you’re reading this- I love you too) I take a great deal of pride in old values. I’m not a Yankee by birth and some of us remember a little thing called Chivalry. I like being the son and son in law who shows up after a snowstorm. I like knowing a driveway is clear, a sidewalk is safe, or a chore is crossed off someone’s list because I took the time to do it. There is something deeply satisfying about being useful. Then there’s summer and I do worry about Dad and his independence on that zero turn mower.
The problem is that usefulness becomes difficult when you’re three counties away. It becomes even more difficult when you’re in another state. A snowstorm doesn’t care about your travel schedule. Grass doesn’t stop growing because you have a meeting. Life keeps happening whether you’re home or not.
A few year ago, I bought Lisa a Roomba for Christmas. To be honest, it may have been one of the best gifts I’ve ever purchased. Every morning I come downstairs, feed the dogs, push a button, and by the time the coffee is ready the floors look and smell like somebody spent the morning cleaning the house. Nobody did. The little machine quietly handled the job while we were doing something else. It wasn’t flashy. It simply worked.
That experience got me thinking about all the other routine tasks that consume our time. If a robot could vacuum and mop the floors, why couldn’t one mow a lawn? Why couldn’t one clear a driveway? Why couldn’t technology help solve some of the challenges that come with balancing work, family, and the realities of getting older?
That’s what led me to Yarbo.
At first glance, Yarbo looks like something a kid would draw after spending too much time watching science fiction movies. It rides on tracks, uses cameras and sensors to navigate, maps properties using GPS technology, and can be monitored remotely from a smartphone. What makes it interesting, however, isn’t how futuristic it looks. It’s what it allows people to do.
In the summer, it can mow. In the winter, it can clear snow. It can navigate around obstacles, follow predetermined routes, and return to its charging station when the job is complete. More importantly, it can do those things whether you’re standing in the driveway or sitting hundreds of miles away. When I’m home, I don’t want to cut grass- I want to see the family I work to support. I’m sure my readers can relate.
The more I used it, the more I realized I wasn’t buying a gadget. I was buying peace of mind. I was buying one less thing to worry about when I was on the road. I was buying a way to help make sure the people I care about were taken care of, even when I couldn’t physically be there.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I probably wasn’t the only person facing this problem. Northern Pennsylvania is full of people who travel for work. It’s full of adult children helping aging parents. It’s full of retirees trying to stay independent. It’s full of people who value self-reliance but occasionally need a little help keeping up with everything life throws at them.
That’s why I decided to bring Yarbo to Wellsboro.
Not because I was looking for another business. Anyone who knows me understands I already have enough projects. I did it because every once in a while you come across a product that solves a real problem. Not a marketing problem. Not a problem invented by a focus group. A real one. I can’t afford to worry about my folks- I can’t take my mind off my work at 3 stories up with a large stone in my arms and wonder how her folks are.
Years ago, the guy cleaning my gutters knew where I was supposed to be before I did. These days, I’ve got a robot that knows where it’s supposed to be -and I’ve got them for sale in Wellsbro Pa starting in July. And if it helps me take care of the people I love while I’m chasing the next project down the road, that’s a trade I’m willing to make.