There is that old 75 year old manure spreader. I’ve kept it parked on the hill since I bought this place 35 years ago. It was built to be pulled with horses, but I fitted it with a tractor hitch. Every time I try to pull it with my tractor it breaks all the drive chains and I have to shovel out the contents by hand and drive all the way to Wink Guy’s shop for repair links. I have spread more manure in this column than that thing has spread in the past 35 years, and yet I keep it. The wooden sides have to be replaced every 5 years or so. A lot of work. A lot of bolts to buy. Several junk dealers have offered to buy it for scrap, but I can’t part with it. You never know when I might need it.

I started farming with my old 41 Model ‘H’ Farmall. Used it for all my farming for more than 20 years. Hand crank that would break my wrist several times a year. Iron seat that kept me with chronic hemorrhoids. No fenders. The big 38" tires sling mud over me constantly.

When I went to Dick Carroll’s to buy my brand new ‘72 Model John Deere Diesel, Mr. Carroll offered to make a generous allowance for the trade in.

Trade hell!

I’m keeping that old ‘H’, I might need it. I figured I’d use the old "H’ for every day and just drive my new tractor on Sundays and special occasions.

But when I settled into that Leatherette Air ride seat, and found I could steer it with one finger instead of the 2 arms and both legs that the old ‘H’ required. When I just turned the key to start it and didn’t even have to take the Magneto apart and dry it before hand cranking it for 1/2 hour I never again drove my beloved old ‘H’.

It sat there until the honeysuckle and multiflora rose had totally entwined it. I still couldn’t bring myself to sell it. You never know when I might need it.

In 1989 I bought the best damned truck that Ford ever built. F-250, 5 speed 7.3 diesel. I went on and on 100,000 miles, 200,000 miles. When it tripped 350,000 miles the old truck really got broke in good. I could have driven it forever.

But then after 12 years of constant abuse the old truck became unsightly (The State Police used the term "unsafe", but that old truck still purred like a kitten and would stop on less than a dime). I didn’t care what my truck looked like. I wasn’t making a fashion statement, but the appearance of that old Ford started to affect me socially.

I would cruise up beside some nice looking babe and try to toot the horn (which didn’t work) and then I would have to wind down the window, after I fished around on the floor and found the window crank.

"Going my way, sweetie?"

"Not any more, Pops.", as she spun on her heel and fled in the opposite direction.

I knew it was not me that the women found offensive.

It had to be the truck.

So, I dug up a large can of old money from my yard and hustled on down to the Ford dealer.

I picked out a real space age rocket.

Climate control, cruise control, electric seats and windows, you could even press a button to make the seat conform to your personal anatomy. Carpet an inch think.

I wouldn’t have to toot my horn to attract women anymore. More likely I would have to bar the windows to keep women from climbing in.

When the dealer apologetically said that he couldn’t allow much trade in, I snorted.

I ain’t trading my old truck. Never know when I might need it.

Well, I cruised around in that new truck a few days. Punching in CD’s, running the air first hot & then cold, running the windows up and down.

Enough of this decadent luxury. I’m gonna park this thing until some special occasion and go back to using my old truck everyday.

But, I couldn’t do it. I never realized how cold and drafty that old truck was, and smoke? Didn’t that old truck smoke. Hand cranked windows? Ain’t that a drag.

The worst let down was the loss of all those blue grass CD’s. I couldn’t play them in my old Ford, even the radio doesn’t work. My rhythm would have to be the thumping of the U-Joints, the melody would be the scraping of the fan against the shroud.

No, I couldn’t do it. One week had ruined me.

I had to have my air, my music, and most of all that form fitting bucket seat and the deep carpet under my feet.