Beech Tree News Network

My husband Garey and I live by two separate and very personalized mantras.  His is “Just because you’re born poor, doesn’t mean you have to die poor.”  Mine is “Just because you’re born poor, doesn’t mean you have to live poor.”  And never the twain shall meet.  It took something as insignificant as a spider leg to bring that resounding truth home to me.  Let me explain.

               Garey has two tractors.  I call them the Big Ford and the Little Ford.  I’m sure they have real names with year and engine identifiers, but I can never remember that stuff, hence the Big Ford/Little Ford references.  Garey has had both tractors since we moved here, 40 years ago this year.  Year after year, I’ve watched him disassemble and reassemble or completely replace hydraulic parts, gas lines, carburetors, PTOS, and the list goes on.  I was hoping once we sold our business, Garey would buy some better pieces of farm equipment, but that hope hasn’t materialized. 

               On Wednesday of last week, he came to the house to tell me he still couldn't get the Little Ford to run for more than fifteen minutes at a time.  He had worked on it all the previous week, and he was currently going through the check list of possible problems like the alternator, the solenoid, water in the gas, and probably several more things, but I glazed over after the water in the gas check on the list.  I glazed over, because we’ve been through this check list every year for 40 years—you’re familiar with the “beating a dead horse” analogy, I assume.

               I snapped back to attention when Garey said, “And I really need to disc the garden before the rain moves in.”

               “Why do you do this?” I asked.  “Why don’t you get a piece of equipment you can depend on?”

               “I think it’s just not getting gas through the line for some reason,” he said.

               “Honey, what I’m saying is why don’t you get something you don’t have to work on all the time?”

               “I don’t have to work on it all the time,” he said. 

In my mind’s eye, I start beating my head against the wall.  Outwardly, I remain calm.

“Every year, it’s the same thing,” I said.  “You get ready to break the garden and the Little Ford won’t run or you get ready to bushhog and the Big Ford won’t run.  Last summer was the first time in 39 years that you got through the whole summer without the Big Ford giving you any trouble.”

“Well, I finally figured out what was wrong with it,” he said.  (And it only took him 39 years, I thought but didn’t say.)  “Besides,” he added, “even new pieces of equipment can give you trouble.”

Okay, here it comes, I thought, he’s going to give me some extreme example of a new piece of equipment breaking down.  And as if on cue, that’s exactly what he did.

“You know (insert local farmer’s name here) don’t you.  Well, he just bought a new $300,000 planter,” he said.  “Had it in the field the first day and it broke down.  Nobody could figure out what was wrong with it.  He was fit to be tied.  Turned out to be a bad fuse.”

I felt bad for (local farmer’s name here), I really did, but I didn’t expect Garey to buy a new $300,000 tractor.  A dependable $10,000 used tractor would serve the purpose, and I told him as much.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, “If you live as long as Aggie, you’ll be broke.” (Garey’s mom, Aggie, will be 94 in August.)

“Neither of us will live as long as Aggie,” I said.  “I have too many circulation problems, and you’ll die of aggravation from working on crappie pieces of equipment!”

We were at the same place we’d arrived at for the past 46 years—never the twain shall meet.

On Friday, I went down the hill to Garey’s shop to get some wood screws from his parts bin.  As I walked in, I saw him grinning from ear to ear.  “Do you hear that?” he asked.

               I did.  It was the Little Ford purring like a kitten.

               “What was wrong with it?” I asked.

               “A spider leg,” he said, “It was lodged in the gas line.”

               And with one fell swoop, a spider leg dashed any hopes I had that Garey would see reason and buy a more dependable tractor.  Because, as we are all aware, a spider can make its way into the gas line of a new tractor just as easily as it can the gas line of an old tractor.  I am not too proud to admit defeat, but I really wish he would get a better tractor.