Those of you who know me know that I'm not mechanically inclined. At all.
In fact, when you read this story, you'll probably be shocked. I know I am! :)
So, Scott stops at our house today and tells me all my dreams are about to come true. (You know what I'm thinking, right?) And I ask him what is going to happen, sly smile creeping across my face.
"You get to drive the tractor across the field."
Let-down sigh. Oh, yeah, that's my biggest dream!
Actually, I always ask him if I can maneuver the tractor through the field and he usually tells me no. Or, during combine season, I asked if I could take it down the rows, and he let me....where the corn had already been picked.
I hop in the tractor with him and we head to the north farm. He backs up to several large hay bales - not the little square ones that you can toss by hand but the kind that weigh over 1500 pounds. A piece. Eight large circles of dried alfalfa slide onto the loader (ok, I don't know the technical term for the thing that moves the bales). He tells me as soon as he loads on that last nasty bale, to head for the other side of the field.
And where's the brake again?
That's right. There isn't one!
So, I watch him load and when the bale is locked into position, he points to the east. And I'm off, switching gears as smoothly as a knife dicing vegetables. I adjust the fuel lever.
And....I'm traversing the field at 6.8 miles per hour.
So, when I get to the other side, he loads another bale onto the already overloaded hay mover (what term is the right term for that thing?), and then he climbs into the cab with me.
"Do I get to drive?" I ask sheepishly.
I drive to our house, and for the most part, I do ok. I reach a high speed of 8.6 miles per hour (woo hoo!!) and until I start to slow down for our drive, and I drop the gear lever down oh, about eight gears at a time, do I hear the dreaded "don't do that! Just one at a time."