Saturday, June 8, 2013

In praise of the pickup truck and thanks to my Dad

Until recently, I wasn't a truck person.  When we were moving here, Dad said, "You're going to want a truck."  
"Nah, we don't need a truck.  We're not doing that kind of farming."

My brother said, "You're going to need a truck to plow out that driveway of yours."
"Maybe we'll hire a neighbor.  I don't want a truck."

You see, after observing farms with a critical eye, there were a number of things I didn't want on my farm.
1.  Knee deep mud
2.  Old machinery rusting around the yard
3.  Nasty manure smells
4.  Animals in my bath tub (the pig story set me against it)
5.  Large equipment laying around disassembled and in disrepair
6.  Animal skulls nailed to the fence posts of the front gate (no joke, saw that one)

We weren't that kind of farmer.  We weren't that kind of people.  We weren't going to do that kind of thing.

My dad had a truck with a plow.  Now, a truck person would tell you make and model.  I want to say 1974 Chevy Power-something maybe.  It's red and white and from the same decade I was born in.  When he offered to give it to us as a farm-warming gift, I smiled graciously.  I wasn't that kind of farmer and an old pick-up would quickly lead to #2 and #5 on the No Can Do List.  But I kindly said I'd talk it over with Tim while wondering how we could discretely get rid of it.

Then I mentioned my dad's kindness to a lady from 4H and another from church.  They congratulated me and inquired knowledgeably about all the details, assuring me that we were going to need a truck, even if we didn't insure it but only drove it on the property.  Women + old truck = happiness?  We aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto.

So, reason and experience prevailed and Tim drove the truck home.
And contrary to all my previous self-understanding, we are that kind of farmer.
My brother, Dan, came and gave Tim a plowing lesson and Tim regularly plowed this treacherous driveway all winter long.

Plus, he pulled my van out when it got stuck in a precariously slippery spot over-hanging the gulley.  My hero!

I remember standing at the bottom of the driveway shoveling something out, mailbox maybe, talking with a snow bound neighbor and then Tim comes rumbling down, snow billowing, and shoves the whole pile across the street and over the bank on the other side of the road.  I threw my hands up and cheered.  I love a man with a plow who knows how to use it!  Wow, it's so cool.  And then, Tim plowed the road out all the way to the blacktop road so the neighbors could get out.  Helping everyone with the right powerful tool- super cool!

I could have sworn I took photos, it's so vivid in my mind- the red  paint, the huge dark plow, the flying snow, and that scrapey rumble.  But no, I apparently had both hands full of shovel and no camera.  

This photo doesn't do the good ole' truck justice since there's no hours of labor saved, no rumble and flying snow, no super hero action saving the day. 


That's not a rusty piece of equipment in my yard.  
That's my truck.

1 comment:

  1. I think your truck looks prettty cool in that photo!

    ReplyDelete