That Time The Tractor Went Dead

It was mid morning Tuesday and Brett and I had nothing to do. Having nothing to do on a farm is rare and considering ourselves luckily perched between a full schedule behind us and a to do list a mile long ahead of us, we jumped at the chance to take a leisurely tractor ride around the property. Of course, as {Brett's} luck would have it, we were halfway down a steep hill when the darn thing stalled out. He tried rolling it off but ended up running it waaaay down hill and into a ditch. We bummed around all day until our friend Jacob was off of work. Brett called him with an opportunity to finally use his new wench mounted on the front of his new truck. Twenty minutes later his wife Beth and I were perched in the back of the truck watching a pretty good show starring three men, a tractor, and a wench.

It only took about 45 minutes to pull it out of the ditch with a wench.

Then only 5 minutes to tow it up the hill with the truck.

It only took one person to be a friend.

This just goes to show you one man's mishap is another man's wench dream come true.

Lesson:

Manure happens. When it does, you find out who your friends are.

Linking up here:

Whoopsy Daisy

Driveway Rule #1: Watch where you are going.

Look what I did. It doesn't look that bad. 

Au contraire, Ma' Dear. I was actually on time this particular morning. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning and I had errands to run and the time to myself. I kissed my lover goodbye and watched him and my father in law as they walked down the driveway, headed to the pasture. I jumped in the truck, the 6 day new truck, and instead of looking where I was going I snuck another peak at them. I smiled, pleased with my new memory, and within seconds as I pressed the gas and cut the wheel to back up I heard a terrible sound, "RIGOWHERIUF98ZCH"!!! That really is what it sounded like. 

You know that moment when you realize this moment in time is going to be relayed to every family member over every supper for the next 25 years. I can already hear my Poppa laughing, snickering, and then saying "Goood grief, Ashley Marie," too humored to chastise me. Besides, I am too old for that now. Score! And yes, I just claimed aging as a successful accomplishment.  Through aging, I have realized it is best to approach as many disasters as possible with humor. Laughter heals, People. You heard it here, too.

I did not even turn my head. I was set up perfectly to admire the look of sheer shock as they spun around expecting the worse. I could not help but giggle when Verner wheeled around concerned and then rolled his eyes. You see, Verner Hill drove a truck for quite a few years. At 72, he has seen just about all he could imagine of terrible women drivers but this time caused him to shake his head. Would you like to know how a Southern man treats a lady who has just found herself in a situation unbecoming of a lady? He leaves her the heck alone, solves the problem, and sends her on her way. I love how understanding and permissive of my clumsiness the men in my life are! 

It only took them taking the tractor boom off, turning the tractor around, using the boom to lift the truck up off of said scrape while meticulously pushing-it-in-a-manner-that-would-not-destroy-it-out-of-the-way. No biggie. However, now I was no longer 20 minutes early but 15 minutes late. 

Manure Happens.