Fasten Your Seatbelts

To some, I am probably just that blond chick who hangs out around the farm and keeps the shop fridge stocked with drinks and candy bars. Little do they know I am taking over the world, one tractor at a time.

In the past week (after much persuasion) my husband has let me drive a tractor, a forklift and the big tandem truck. Well, he had me move the tractor about 20 feet, but you better believe I took that sucker for a spin around the circle drive first. And the forklift only needed to be moved about 100 yards but I floored it and let the wind blow through my hair at a whooping 5 mph. As for the big truck, there was one small debacle there. I hit a giant rut in the farm road and it sent the front end of the truck flying in the air.... the headlights probably could have guided in an airplane or two the way they were bouncing up and down. The initial jolt ripped my hands from the steering wheel. And that bouncy driver's seat that I love so much?  It just about bounced me right over into the passenger's seat. Everyone is still alive and the old truck is no worse for the wear.

But my big farm wife debut came yesterday when I had to drive my husband's farm truck into town ... all... by... myself. It's a stick shift. Ughhh. I wasn't one mile from the farm before I ran into trouble. Let's just say I'm not a big fan of stop signs on inclines. I had to coast backwards back down the hill so I could get the truck back in gear and blow through the stop sign without killing the motor.

Good thing I had my trusty sidekick with me.

But the big dope wasn't much help.

We were on our way to get fuel. And we made it there in one piece, though I did about take out the side of their building with one of the dual wheels. Good thing the fuel tanks were a safe distance away from anywhere I had to drive.

I am sure the guys there got a kick out of a maxi-dress-sporting, flip-flop-wearing farm wife. But my style changes with the day and I own it no matter how inappropriate it may be for the task at hand.

On the way back to the farm I noticed something in the dash. This is my husband's trademark move. Whenever he is driving down the road and needs to write down a phone number, he just carves it into the mound of dirt and dust on the dashboard. Clean cars are so overrated. So are notepads.

When we got back and I surveyed the truck for any damage, I started to realize that this old farm truck and I have more in common than I thought.

Big mouths.

And big hips.