Re: Where's Your Son?

Posted by ScottyHOMEy on February 08, 2009 at 12:50:46 from (71.241.192.17):

In Reply to: Where's Your Son? posted by RBnSC on February 08, 2009 at 06:43:24:

I was the grandson, not the son , but . . .

There were always three tractors during my time on Grandpa's farm. For Farmalls there was a BN, that had it's own space in a shed, and then an H, that shared what we called the "old garage" (They had cars before they had tractors.), first with a narrow-front Oliver (a 66 I think, but may have been a 70) which was their heavy tractor. The Oliver was later replaced with a Farmall 400, after the local (and very small) Oliver dealership closed about the time of the merger with White.

So there I was, just a kid, out playing on the H. I'd watched Grandpa or his father start it a thousand times and somehow figured that as long as I didn't pull out that little silver button, it wouldn't start and I couldn't do any harm. Didn't know up from down from sideways about what a clutch did. So there I was with the tractor resting nicely in the ruts it had worn over the years into the clay floor of the old garage when I hit the starter button. Well, whaddaya know, it lurched forward. I was too startled to actually lift my palm from the button so she drove right ahead. Right into the old rusty safe where Grandpa kept the dynamite and caps. Not sure to this day why I didn't drive tractor, safe and all right out through the back wall.

So what's a kid to do? I had any kid's aversion to gettin' his behind kicked, but I really had no desire to see Grandpa and the old garage blown to flinders, if some kind of electric current between the tractor and the safe were to touch things off, and I hadn't the first idea of whether I could even back it up on the starter to make it look like nothing had happened.

So I fessed up.

Grandpa had a funny kind of a laugh and it went on for a long time when I told him. It took him even longer to get his straight face back on. Grandma was madder'n'hell, but that was her nature. We went out after supper and Grandpa put my 60# or so onto one tire of the H and he got onto the other and we rocked and rolled her back into her usual spot.

Next day, he showed me how to run and drive the BN, and had me cultivatin' beans before long. Maybe cultivatin' the beans was the payback!

Anyway, it's been uphill or downhill, accordin' to your perspective, with me and tractors ever since.

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