I especially loved all the "help" I got to assemble it.
Am I a super-extraordinary dork if I admit that after successful assembly, I pulled it around the yard? Several times?
P.S. The turkey burgers were fan-diddely-tastic. Gotta get me some of those.
Edited to add: I phoned my mom to tell her about the yagon, and she squealed with happiness. She also said that it would be good for me, in that I would no long carry heavy stuff.
Then I called J, and the little (well, not so little anymore, since he started outweighing me about fifteen years ago) stinker says he's doesn't remember having a yagon. But the wood sides are "stockracks." Argh. Suddenly, revenge is not so sweet. When Mini J comes to visit, I'm going to pull her in the yagon forever, if she so chooses.