Tractors, Trucks, and Three Legged Dogs

Ah, Saturdays. The day of relaxation. Unless you help your dad all day.

So I went with dad to try to find some replacement piece for his spreader. It looked kind of like a little screw a quarter inch long with a little ball thing at the end. Apparently it is important. First we went to Boomgars. They didn't have it in the right size. Than we tried Franken Implements because, according to dad, the definitely would have it. They didn't. So dad drove to the field that he was spreading in, and sent me off to find the piece. First stop, SAC. They didn't have it. Apparently not many people need the part in metric. Last stop, AWS in Hull. They had it.

Then I had to stop in SC to get dad lunch (2 Big Macs) and water (six bottles) and a bottle of mountain dew. The next time you are at a convenience store, I challenge you to try to carry eight bottles of liquid by yourself to the counter without dropping anything. The next two hours were boring. I sat in the tractor and watched dad drive it. On the upside, I learned how to use a payloader. Than I decided I was going to go home. Not going to happen. The front, driver's side wheel was flat. Not just slightly flat. Oh no. This was the-rim-is-almost-touching-the-ground flat.

First things first. Call Becka. Ask her to come to the field with the air compressor. Receive a call a few minutes later. The green car is dead. OK, jump it. Receive a call shortly after. She couldn't get the trunk popped. She got out of the car to try to get it opened. The door closed behind her and the door locked. With the car still running. Call mom. Tell her to leave Sarah, James, and Mike in La Mars and come pick me up. Get bored. Call mom and ask where she is. She had left La Mars and had to turn back around because she had their money. Get picked up 15 minutes later. Go home. Unlock the doors to the green car. Which is still running. load the air compressor into the white car. Drive back to the field. Inflate my first flat tire. Drive home. Sit down. Relax. The rest of the day is mine!

Unfortunately not. Dad called. He needed something. I couldn't find it. Mom had gone back to La Mars. Becka had gone to babysit. I had to take the gold car to Franken to get the stuff. *Side Note: The gold car's tags have been expired since June.* I got the stuff, drove to the field. Dad then sent me straight back because he needed something else from them. I drove back to the field, gave dad his part, he realized he needed something else that he had in his truck. Which was at this point at home with a flat tire. He said I could drive back, and he would follow with his tractor. I was ecstatic. Until I started fish-tailing, lost control, drove into a ditch, into a corn field, spun around, and than stoped the car by driving back into the ditch and colliding with the grassy embankment.

I called dad. He said he would be there shortly, and radioed back for someone to bring a chain. I waited for him with only a three legged dog to keep me company. We pulled the car out, and found the only damage to be... a flat tire on the front driver's side. And a missing license plate.

None of this is made up. And the best part? I got paid $7 an hour while all of this was happening! I mean, who else gets paid for crashing their car?