It’s a chilly morning. I don’t mean just mildly cold, there is frost covering the ground. I’m fairly certain that if I remained stationary for more than fifteen minutes, frost will start to cover me as well. On this particular day, my job is to cut the grass with a tractor. If you live in a residential/suburban area, the idea of using a tractor to cut the grass may seem like overkill. To which I would counter, sure, if you live on a half-acre of land, a tractor is absolutely overkill. A small lawnmower will suffice, no question. However, if you live on a piece of land where the acreage goes into the double digits, a tractor becomes as necessary as food and shelter. It’s hard not to feel a little like an airline pilot, tractors can be finicky things. It’s not as simple as climbing in and hitting go. You have to go through a small check, check the fuel, check tires, make sure that your equipment is hooked up properly and lubricated adequately. More than you would think. Only then can you (or me, more specifically) begin.
Let me back up a little. I never thought I would be running a tractor. Never once in my life. For some reason, anytime I thought of a tractor, I have the mental image of a straw hat wearing man wearing flannel. This is an obvious stereotype. Yet for years having this absurd stereotype, I never thought I would enjoy running a tractor. Not that I had put much thought into it, but in my mind, tractors were these big, slow, hulking things. Certainly not for me.
Despite my baseless preconception, I actually enjoy running a tractor. My Dad was the one who taught me how it all worked. It was a definite learning curve. Especially when trying to figure out how to manually change an implement. (I still say changing an implement should be used as a form of torture.) Yet the first time I was out running a tractor solo, I felt an unexpected thrill. Sitting on that tractor, I had a commanding view of the field before me. It was exhilarating to operate a machine bigger than myself. When I had finished for the first time, I reflected on how sometimes we limit ourselves with stereotypes that somehow get stuck in our minds. It made me wonder what else as I missing out on, because I had convinced myself that it ‘wasn’t for me’.
To my surprise in the ensuing months I actually looked forward to running a tractor. Eventually I got to the point where I could run it with ease. I had memorized all its functions. I had run across the land enough times to know where all the hidden dips and holes were. Sometimes I would be up early enough to watch the sun rise as I began. Smelling the fresh air and seeing the sun rise from a tractor seat is an experience everyone should have at least once. I liked feeling the tractor move beneath my seat. I liked the steady hum of the engine. After about a good half-hour, time would seem to slow. Almost like entering another dimension. No one would really bother me, so I would have a few hours of uninterrupted concentration.
On that tractor seat I concocted some of my best ideas ever. I think that some people have the idea that writing is done in a cave, that we just loaf around in our boxers, waiting to feel creative. Nothing of the sort. In order to get any effective writing done, you must get out there. I found that out being on the tractor. For some reason I come up with my best ideas when I’m in the middle of doing something else. Of course, there were days when boredom would set in. So I would mentally recite the odd bits of poetry or prose I had memorized over the years. Some Alfred Lord Tennyson, Robert Browning, Alfred Noyles, it’s all up here. (Side note, Tennyson rules them all in my opinion. ‘Ulysses’, ‘Idylls of the King’ and ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ are all masterpieces in my book, but I digress)
“And indeed he seems to me, scarce other than my king’s ideal knight, who reverence’d his conscience as king”. – Tennyson, Idylls of the King
“How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unfurnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were to live!” – Tennyson, Ulysses
“When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder’d. Honor the charge they made, honor the light brigade.” – Tennyson, Charge of the Light Brigade
When I put the tractor up for the day, I would feel a quiet satisfaction. I must confess that there is something about being able to look over your work and actually see visible results. Waking up the next day and still being able to see your work is satisfying as well. To be clear, that machine drove me nuts sometimes. Somehow grass/hay/dust would get wedged in between places that were almost impossible to clean. On hot days (and in Florida, we have no shortage of those) the tractor could be as stubborn as a mule. I would have to almost baby the thing in order to get anything done. Changing implements were a pain. Oh, and some genius thought it was a great idea to squeeze the fuel tank above the wheels, where you had to angle yourself just so, while holding a heavy tank, in order to put the fuel in. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Well, actually it was a lot of sunshine, just no roses.
I still enjoyed running the tractor. No, I never had a ‘Field of Dreams’ moment where the field spoke to me or anything. It’s just, there is something satisfying about running a machine bigger than me. I suppose it touches some primal instinct deep within. Way back in the nineteenth century, when the Industrial Revolution was in full swing, there was a violent rebellion against these new fangled machines. A group of artisans and craftsmen, led by a crazed idealist named Ned Ludd, engaged in a violent revolt, worried that industrialization would destroy craftsmanship, and thus humanity itself. Honestly, there are some days I can almost understand the fear. (especially with all of the artificial intelligence craziness going on) When sitting on that tractor, I was working in tandem with the machine. I didn’t feel at all like I was being demeaned or dominated in any way. Rather, it felt good to be in control of a machine. It makes me wonder about our ancestors, from way back when, taming wild animals. I sometimes wonder if this was how they felt.
Sitting on that tractor, alone with myself, that was a good experience. As I said earlier, I came up with some of my best ideas. You wouldn’t know it if you’d watched me, but I spent most of that time sowing dreams. I planted all kinds of ideas, some of which have yet to mature. Ultimately, I have come to believe that it is vital to get out of ones comfort zone whenever possible. In order to truly grow, we need to embrace new paths sometimes. I personally never thought I was the kind of person to run a tractor, much less enjoy it. Yet here I am, and I believe I’m better for it. Oh, and I’ve never worn a straw hat or flannel while on a tractor.
