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Authors: Aaron Hawkins
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splinters inflicted by the wagon.
Explaining where the tractor came from requires explaining my dad and uncle's one bedrock philosophy. It was something I grew up hearing at least once a week and was forced to repeat. In its simplest form it was this: No one should pay more than $300 for a car.
In order to live by this principle, each family had to have three cars. In the ideal case, two of the cars would be running at any given time. This would allow transportation options, while the third was cycled through for repairs. Often it was the other way around, though,
and one working car would have to spend its last few good miles searching for parts for the rest of the fleet.
Inevitably, my dad and uncle spent a lot of time fixing cars, and I wasn't sure they were all that good at it. Most every weekend was spent cursing carburetors, alternators, or fuel pumps. It was like a second job for both of them that they paid money to do and grumbled about the whole time. Besides fixing cars, they also spent a lot of time finding cars. That was how the tractor arrived.
My dad found someone selling a 1964 Plymouth Barracuda really cheap. When he went to look at it, he found that it didn't run but was pretty sure he knew what the problem was. The seller was willing to throw in the tractor for an extra $100 so that my dad could pull the Barracuda home. Eight hours later my mom was greeted by the sight of my dad on a tractor pulling another nonworking car. I was never sure where the wooden wagon came from. It just showed up one day.
My cousins, sisters, and I took a vote, and it was five to one in favor of using the tractor and wagon to haul the branches. Michael was against it because he just wanted to burn them. He had probably overheard my conversation with Tommy.
"Now we just have to convince our dads to let us use it and teach us to drive it," I said to everyone.
"Let me do the talking," Amy replied boldly. We found
both dads inside my uncle's house. He had bought a TV that came with a remote control, and they were both admiring it as we walked in the house.
"Watch how fast I can change the channels," said Uncle David as his thumb-clicked the little button as fast as it would go.
"You know, I'll bet this would be even more impressive if we got more than three channels." My dad laughed.
"All I really like to watch are football games and when they show movies, anyway," Uncle David responded defensively.
Amy went in and sat next to her dad.
"Can I try?" she asked, and he handed her the remote. "This is neat," she said after giving it a few clicks and handing it back.
"Daddy?" she asked.
"Yeah, honey?" he said, only half paying attention.
"Remember when you said you were going to teach me how to drive?"
"Uh-huh," he replied without taking his eyes off the TV.
"Well, I was thinking maybe you could show me how to drive the tractor to start, and then I could even use it to help out Jackson with his apple work."
Uncle David now turned his full attention to her.
"Huh? Now, what are you asking?"
"Can I learn to drive the tractor?" Amy repeated in her sweetest voice.
"And what are you planning on using it for?" asked my dad, who had now taken an interest in the conversation.
"If I can drive it, I was going to help out Jackson with his apples."
My dad and Uncle David both looked at each other. I could tell my dad wanted to say no. Uncle David, however, was thinking more about Amy, so he looked away from my dad.
"Well, I think that might be okay. You can't really go too far or too fast on a tractor," he said, looking at his daughter.
"Let's see if you can get it started first. That will prove you're ready to drive it," my dad added.
"Well, how do you start it?" Amy asked.
"We'll tell you, and you go see if you can get it running," my dad said with a little chuckle.
My dad and uncle began to describe things like "put it in neutral" and "pull the throttle all the way down" and "push in the starter button" and "push in the
Explaining where the tractor came from requires explaining my dad and uncle's one bedrock philosophy. It was something I grew up hearing at least once a week and was forced to repeat. In its simplest form it was this: No one should pay more than $300 for a car.
In order to live by this principle, each family had to have three cars. In the ideal case, two of the cars would be running at any given time. This would allow transportation options, while the third was cycled through for repairs. Often it was the other way around, though,
and one working car would have to spend its last few good miles searching for parts for the rest of the fleet.
Inevitably, my dad and uncle spent a lot of time fixing cars, and I wasn't sure they were all that good at it. Most every weekend was spent cursing carburetors, alternators, or fuel pumps. It was like a second job for both of them that they paid money to do and grumbled about the whole time. Besides fixing cars, they also spent a lot of time finding cars. That was how the tractor arrived.
My dad found someone selling a 1964 Plymouth Barracuda really cheap. When he went to look at it, he found that it didn't run but was pretty sure he knew what the problem was. The seller was willing to throw in the tractor for an extra $100 so that my dad could pull the Barracuda home. Eight hours later my mom was greeted by the sight of my dad on a tractor pulling another nonworking car. I was never sure where the wooden wagon came from. It just showed up one day.
My cousins, sisters, and I took a vote, and it was five to one in favor of using the tractor and wagon to haul the branches. Michael was against it because he just wanted to burn them. He had probably overheard my conversation with Tommy.
"Now we just have to convince our dads to let us use it and teach us to drive it," I said to everyone.
"Let me do the talking," Amy replied boldly. We found
both dads inside my uncle's house. He had bought a TV that came with a remote control, and they were both admiring it as we walked in the house.
"Watch how fast I can change the channels," said Uncle David as his thumb-clicked the little button as fast as it would go.
"You know, I'll bet this would be even more impressive if we got more than three channels." My dad laughed.
"All I really like to watch are football games and when they show movies, anyway," Uncle David responded defensively.
Amy went in and sat next to her dad.
"Can I try?" she asked, and he handed her the remote. "This is neat," she said after giving it a few clicks and handing it back.
"Daddy?" she asked.
"Yeah, honey?" he said, only half paying attention.
"Remember when you said you were going to teach me how to drive?"
"Uh-huh," he replied without taking his eyes off the TV.
"Well, I was thinking maybe you could show me how to drive the tractor to start, and then I could even use it to help out Jackson with his apple work."
Uncle David now turned his full attention to her.
"Huh? Now, what are you asking?"
"Can I learn to drive the tractor?" Amy repeated in her sweetest voice.
"And what are you planning on using it for?" asked my dad, who had now taken an interest in the conversation.
"If I can drive it, I was going to help out Jackson with his apples."
My dad and Uncle David both looked at each other. I could tell my dad wanted to say no. Uncle David, however, was thinking more about Amy, so he looked away from my dad.
"Well, I think that might be okay. You can't really go too far or too fast on a tractor," he said, looking at his daughter.
"Let's see if you can get it started first. That will prove you're ready to drive it," my dad added.
"Well, how do you start it?" Amy asked.
"We'll tell you, and you go see if you can get it running," my dad said with a little chuckle.
My dad and uncle began to describe things like "put it in neutral" and "pull the throttle all the way down" and "push in the starter button" and "push in the
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