Nothing Runs Like A Deere

I don't know where Junior got the idea we could drive his dad's tractor. I don't know how he thought we could get away with it.

We were twelve years old that summer, Junior and I. It was mid-July and we were bored. No new farm animals had been born in weeks and we had done all the things we had planned to do that summer. We had gone fishing several times and ridden our bikes all the way to the county line and had even climbed to the top of the Great Oak in Mr. Roberts' pasture, a tree my dad said was at least 90 feet tall.

Camping out in my backyard and telling ghost stories was fun for a couple weeks, but we ran out of stories and had had enough of mosquito bites. We quit stealing baby pigs from the stall after Junior had a close call with a mama pig who wasn't pleased. We had just run out of exciting things to do.

We were wandering around the barn looking for anything interesting when Junior stopped in his tracks, a smile showing he'd thought of something to do.

"Let's drive the tractor," he said.

"What tractor?" I asked hoping he meant the lawn tractor but somehow knowing he didn't.

"My dad's. It's parked behind the barn and he never takes the keys out of it. We can drive it around the pasture."

I didn't want to dampen his excitement but one of us had to be rational. "Do you know what will happen to us if we do that? He'll skin us alive."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun," he said.

"No." I started to walk away.

"Are you scared? Almost everything we've done this summer is stuff we weren't supposed to do."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"You're chicken." There was the I-dare-you word.

I didn't say anything. I was trying to figure out how to explain to him that I just had a bad feeling about it.

" Chicken! Bok! Bok! Bok!" Junior walked around with his hands under his armpits and moved his elbows up and down.

I caved. "I guess if I don't go along, you'll do it anyway."

We walked around the barn to where the old John Deere sat. It looked a lot larger than I remembered.

"Do you know how to start it?" I asked as we climbed up.

"Sure. I've watched Dad lots of times."

We shared the seat and looked around. Junior took hold of the steering wheel and struck a pose, his head held high and looking down the front of the machine. I just sat there looking around for his dad.

Then he did it. He reached down and turned the key. There was a short "ch-chung" then nothing.

"I think you have to push in the clutch," I said, "then let it out as you push the gas." I had ridden with my dad and grandpa several times on their tractor.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot." Junior stretched his leg to reach the clutch pedal and slid off the seat. I laughed and he gave me his "shut up" look. He tried again and finally got himsef balanced so he could reach the pedal and barely sit on the seat at the same time. He got the tractor started and we yelled, "Yay!"

He put the tractor in gear - I don't know which gear it was but I don't think it was the right one - then slowly let out the clutch as he pushed the gas pedal. The motor roared and we lurched forward. He fell off the seat again and I had to catch myself to keep from going over backward. As he climbed back onto the seat he noticed the tractor was headed straight for the chicken house.

"Whoa!" He turned the steering wheel to the left and I slid off the seat. He got the tractor to chug along at a slow pace so he could steer it and headed for the pasture. Neither of us remembered until then that the gate was closed.

Junior turned the wheel sharp to the right causing both of us to slide off the seat again as the tractor turned with one back tire off the ground. As we tried to pull ourselves up again the tractor picked up speed and continued to the right, making a circle. We were headed for the gate again.

"Stop this thing!" I said. Junior was looking at the approaching gate with eyes three times their normal size.

"I can't reach the brake," he said, tears filling his eyes.

I decided to take my chances and bail. As I prepared to jump the tractor hit the metal gate and I was thrown off -right into the barbed wire fence. Junior was still trying to push the brake but the tractor kept trying to push its way through the gate.

"Turn it off," I yelled. "Turn the key off!"

He turned it off just as the gate broke loose from its posts. It stopped with a shudder.

"Are you okay?" he called to me. He was still too scared to move.

"I might bleed to death from all these barbs sticking in me, but I guess I'm okay."

Junior's dad showed up then. He had been in the house when our adventure started but had come outside in time to see the end.

"Are you kids all right?" I could tell he was worried. We both said we were okay and he helped me get untangled. Junior was looking at the ground as he walked over.

"Since you're not hurt, it looks like you young-uns have a job fixing this fence and gate. That ought to fill up a lot of your extra time." He looked at me with all my scratches. "You better get home and have those cuts looked at. You tell your folks exactly what happened here. I'll be calling them later to make sure you did."

As I headed home I heard him tell Junior, "We've got some talking to do and I'm sure your mother will have a few words as well."

Luckily, my parents were so upset about what could have happened they let me by with a lecture and a stern warning about what would happen if I tried anything like that again.

As Junior and I finished the fence and gate his dad came to look it over. "I hope you kids have learned your lesson and won't be doing anything that dangerous again."

"No, sir," we said.

As he walked away we looked at each other and smiled.