Things were going great guns. I finished the first strip he asked me to do and was just about to finish the second strip. I was on the last swath down the middle of the field, running straight down the strip and thought to myself that I could possibly get used to this and wouldn't mind driving the tractor more often.
Then the inevitable happened. I knew I was feeling way too confident. All of a sudden there was this horrible grinding noise coming from beneath the tractor tire. I stopped quickly, got out and looked for something I might be dragging. Nothing. I got back in and tried to go again. There was the same grinding noise.
I got out again and looked around the whole tractor, and finally noticed that the tire had slipped clear across the axle and was sitting next to the hub. I couldn't move the tractor anymore.
So there I was, stuck in the middle of the field, and broke down. I called Dave and told him what had happened. When I described what I had found, he said "Well, that is probably the end of the tractor."
I told him I wasn't cut out for driving big equipment. He shouldn't have put me in there. and I went home and left the tank in the middle of the field.
Then along came my inlaws to see how I was doing. Dad already knew I had broken down, and was going to fix it.
Now here we are, a 50 year old woman, with no smarts when it comes to big equipment. My father in-law, 82, suffering from Parkinsens and amazingly recovered from a broken neck a year and a half earlier, with his 82 year old wife.
Dad was sure we could rectify the situation by taking the Sweeps off of the crippled tractor and putting it on a different tractor. But we aren't talking about toys here. This is stuff that deals with hydrolics, and heavy equipment and jacking up heavy equipment in soft ground.
Suddenly I was not so sure I liked tractors anymore. My confidence level in handling this stuff had fizzled me to a frightened wimp. But my father-in-law was determined to get the equipment changed around.
We made several trips back and forth from the field to the farm, locating a jack, and various other bits of tools to make this change, including the other tractor.
After attempting to jack the sweeps up, and move the broken tractor away, we realized that the ground was too soft to hold the sweeps above ground. Most experienced farmers would have known to put something under the jack to keep it from sinking. I did not do well in physics, so this would be my first lesson.
We raised the sweeps, but it was hard to raise it enough to remove the pin. Another mistake, we finally raised it enough and removed the pin, and the jack began sinking in the soft ground.
At this point I was ready to leave it till my husband could fix it. Did I say my father-in-law was determined to get this done?
He went back to the farm and found a post to use as a lever and a board to set under the jack. Then he told me to place the board under the jack, that was holding the sweeps up, after he lifted it with the post as a lever. I can't even lift a 50 lb. sack of dog food without a great deal of effort.
Amazingly, the plan worked and we were able to get a board under the jack, get the tractor pulled out of the way, and back the other tractor up to the sweeps.
It did not go as quickly as I can write about it. In fact it took the better part of an afternoon to make the change. Mom and I were two frightened women, and Dad was one determined fellow. I was sure I would be calling my husband's sisters to explain whey their father was back in the hospital, but God protected us all and allowed everything to end well.
I told my mother-in-law that I didn't care much for driving tractor after all, if things were going to break.
That tractor sat in the middle of that field for the next couple of weeks, until our mechanic could come out and slide the wheel back to it's rightful position. I learned that it was a broken C-joint that caused the tire to slip, and the grinding noise was the gears being sheared as I tried to move the tractor. It was repairable, and our mechanic was able to make it work again.
I thought that would be the end of my tractor driving, but I was wrong. One month later I found myself back in the same machine, only this time I was planting wheat.
Once again Dave set me in the tractor showed me a few things and said, 'You're good to go!" Then he left!! And I was left to go it alone again.
I drilled that wheat into the ground, picked up a rock, (a huge rock!) and couldn't get it loose. It was really more like a boulder. I pounded it with a hammer, and only succeeded in wedging it tighter between the drill wheels.
I called Dave and he said he would be right out, but he wasn't or I wasn't patient enough. So I thought I could just back up a little and it would come loose. It did. And that should be the end of this story, but it isn't.
Dave did show up and when he did I told him I fixed it. He looked at the drills and said, "You should have taken the drills out of the ground before backing up." Like, I knew that alright!! Now I do. The drills had filled with dirt, and a few of them had bent forward, from backing up. But hey, I got the boulder out of the wheels, didn't I?
So we cleaned the dirt out of the drills, and straightened the bent ones, and I turned around and re-drilled the ground from where I picked up the rock. Dave left again, I finished that strip, and headed for the next strip. Once again I felt fairly confident about driving tractor.
I began in the next strip and did okay till I got to the edge of the strip that is next to the road. All along that side of the strip are telephone poles, loaded with power lines. I came around the first bend and just barely missed hitting the first pole with the drills. I quickly moved away from the edge of the field and called Dave to come do the edge. I told him I didn't relish knocking power lines on top of the tractor. He came back and finished the edge for me, but I had to finish the rest of the strip.
Before he left me in the tractor, he commented that he hoped the Combiners next summer didn't think I was drunk when planting the wheat. I guess my lines are rather wavy, but hey, that's cheap help for you.
When the wheat came up, it was obvious what strips I had drilled and what strips the hired man had drilled. He clearly has a steadier hand on the steering wheel than I do. But in all honesty, if I had drilled at a slower speed, I think I would have been straighter in drilling it also. I thought I had to go faster, because that is the speed Dave set for me.
I really think that at 50 years old, this old dog doesn't need to learn some new tricks. Attached are a few pictures from these days. No, there aren't any of the wavy wheat fields. Dad says wheat grows better in crooked lines. It doesn't blow as easy. So there.
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