Meet the myth, the legend, the one and only Born for Corn.
I had only heard about Born for Corn, but had never seen her in person. I was starting to think she didn't exist. Like maybe it was just a joke someone made up here on the farm.
That's until my husband called the other day and said "look out the window."
For those of you unfamiliar with farming equipment, this old relic is made for harvesting corn. A laughable concept when you get an up-close look at the old bucket of rust.
For the past six years, I have heard jokes and cracks about this old combine that was tucked away somewhere on the farm. You know it's gotta be good when the thing has earned a name for herself.
I don't think Born for Corn has seen any fall harvest action in a long, long time. She had to be pulled out of the pasture.
I always had visions of turning her into a jungle gym clubhouse type thing for our kids someday.
Something sort of like this:
Keep in mind I had never seen the thing.
But the minute I finally laid eyes on that hunk of junk, my dream was suddenly shattered.
I think that might be mold or moss or some type of furry green substance growing on top of rust.
Gross.
She's rough.
Like really rough.
When I tried to go up the steps to the cab, I start swinging through the air like Tarzan. Apparently, the steps are being held on by one last rusty bolt. They swing back and forth all over the place, practically just dangling there.
Forget the jungle gym idea, the kids would have to get a tetanus shot before they even climbed in.
So it sounds like this old beast is headed for the scrap yard.
Our future kids will have to settle for a plastic swing set from Home Depot.
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