A long time ago when I was but a wee lad, my Mother told me a story of her lookin’ out the kitchen window to see this li’l fellow in a red coat traipsin’ up the road after his Daddy. I was two or three, and apparently had slipped Gran’paw’s grasp. More likely, he wasn’t payin’ attention, an’ Daddy had taken off up the road on the tractor to help a neighbor farmer. That was me, and till I left home for school, wherever Daddy an’ that tractor went, I went too. I’ve got more miles on the fender of a tractor than most airline pilots have hours in their logbooks. All I can say is I moved to the fender when I got too big for the seat and could hold on by myself.
Fact is I learned to drive sittin’ in the seat with Daddy. He had to be there, because my legs wouldn’t reach the clutch. You know I must have asked a hundred times, "Daddy, can I drive?" Well, one day it happened. He let me steer. He'd work the pedals, 'cause I couldn't reach 'em, but I had hold of the reins! Have mercy, but what a precious memory that is. And you know that once it starts, it never ends. One day, after seein' that I could keep that left rear wheel in the furrow, he turned me loose to make a round on my own. I remember tellin’ folks one of my most proud moments was my solo flight out of the Cartersville Georgia airport. Till now, I’d forgotten that long ago tractor ride. Mind you I was still a youngun’ an’ not too long legged just yet. The simple, but nervous anticipation of him gettin' up outta the seat, me knowin' history was in the makin' is near beyond comprehension. The clutch was a tricky thing, and this was my first time eeeezin’ ‘er out! Mind you Daddy put ‘er in gear before he got off, 'cause it was all I could do to hold the steerin’ wheel with both hands to get into position and brace myself enough to mash the clutch.
Now an’ again, I’d look back at him for any signs I was messin’ up, but as long as there were no arms a-wavin’ I was all right. This was a 7 acre field, our biggest and with this disk harrow, it seemed like a lifetime to make one round. Suited me to a tee, ‘cause I was happy as could be, an’ when I’s done just bury me for life is complete! Might sound silly, but I was never more happy than on the seat of a tractor.
I knew when I got back around, Daddy would come back and stop me, but nope; he let me go. Shucks fire, after a couple rounds, Daddy wasn't even there! Round an’ round I went; happiest boy in Forsyth County. I figger I was around 8 or 9 when this happened. Had to be, for by the time I was 10, I could easily reach the clutch. All good things come to an end and after a fashion, he came to relieve me. I see him now, walkin’ over toward me from the barn as I come down that last straight stretch. I scoot forward in the seat an’ mash the clutch. Daddy runs up an’ throws ‘er outta gear. Success! What an accomplishment. Heck, it was a rite of passage for me! Yes, that’s right up there with that solo flight where they cut the back outta my shirt!!
I look back, and that was as much an accomplishment for Daddy as it was for me. For him to have the confidence in me to handle the job, operate the machinery without harm says a lot of him, the teacher. Can you imagine his nervous anticipation?
