Got Milk?

It has been 124 days since I lost my job, which amazingly enough is exactly the number of times I have pissed off my wife for being at home all day. I have tried to figure a way to hide, but it costs too much gas to ride around in the car all day, and the library has classified me as a loiterer. As it turns out, being unemployed is not nearly as enjoyable as I had remembered it. There is the obvious set of issues, like not having enough money to make the bills, not being able to afford basic necessities such as ice cream or decent coffee. There is the depression and fear. We have slashed our expenses to the bone. Still we struggle. 

A couple of weeks ago, a dairy farmer I know asked if I wanted to get out of the house for a couple of days and come visit him on the farm. It seemed like it would be interesting to learn how a dairy works, so I jumped at the chance. I went out to see the operation and as I was admiring the huge tractors, he offered to let me drive one! I was stoked. I had driven a little old tractor once, but these were much bigger and newer. I climbed up in the cab, got some instructions then went off to mow a field. It was quite large. One lap took about 20 minutes. However the sheer rush of being 10 feet in the air, choking on dust, smelling the exhaust of about 1700 head of cattle and feeling the roar of a big diesel engine beneath me was exhilarating. Before I knew it, I was singing songs. "Old MarkDonald mowed a farm...."followed by the theme song to "Green Acres." I felt like I was doing a decent job, and just as I started to regain some confidence that maybe could be a productive member of society again, THE TRACTOR BROKE! As I was turning the 8000 pound machine, it shuddered and the front tire popped off the rim. I called the farmer and he came out with another tractor and some tools and we took off the tire which turned out to just be old, so it was not really my fault. Just the same, I got sent home until it was fixed.

A day later I was summoned back to finish what I had started. Fortunately it went better this time round. The tractor did not have A/C and I had to endure the 130 degree cabin temperature. I was whining to myself about it when suddenly I had a vision, or maybe just a heat stroke induced hallucination of my uncle Kenneth laughing at me and ridiculing me about how when he was farming, the tractors did not have cabs, roofs, or windows, much less air conditioning, so I should shut my pie hole and man up.

I got the field mowed and asked if there was any other odd job I could do. The farmer was obliging and set me up with a tractor that had A/C and asked me to disc the field I had mowed earlier. This seemed like more fun, and I got to it. I started out in a section that had just had a few tons of manure, the green stuff spread all over it. I have heard it said that manure smells like money, so I must have been driving though a few million dollars. As I navigated the tractor through the bovine sewer, the cab got a lot darker. I looked out the back and side windows which were entirely coated by hundreds of thousands of flies. They were everywhere. I tried banging on the window but they were persistent. It was sort of creepy. I finished disc'ing that area and moved on. Still the flies clung to the glass. I do not know what came over me, but I lost all presence of mind and opened the door to try and wave them off with a rag. Boy howdy. Turns out the flies like air conditioning more than I do. I quickly closed the door but I now had 400 new friends who were content to hang on the ceiling and take turns flying up my nose. I got done for the day and went back home.

The next day I went to do more work in the fields. When I opened the tractor, about 200 of my friends were waiting for me, and wanting to know what I brought for breakfast. Turns out that they are big fans of continental breakfast, and they took over my zucchini muffin and tried to drink my coffee.

I  was doing a pretty good job, making good time, when suddenly the tractor lurched and seemed to get lighter. I looked out the window and saw that I had lost my disc apparatus about 50 yards back. I tried to get it reattached a pin had fallen out and it was soon apparent that I needed help. I called the farmer, who as it turns out had gone to town and he said I needed to get one of the other workers to help. Now, it might be important at this juncture to explain that possessing a working knowledge of the Spanish language is often very helpful on a farm in Colorado.  I found someone and tried to ask if he could help me. He gave me a blank stare, and so I tried to remember back to high school when I took a couple of years of Spanish.  I vaguely remembered this one word, "ayudame" which is pronounced something like 'ayeyoodahmay'. Unfortunately, I articulated it as 'eye YOU DAMN mee'. I do not know what I actually said, but the worker, looked at me and said "What da hell is wrong with you, gringo estúpido?" I did not have a good answer for him. He came and helped me get the disc attached again, then he told me he needed the tractor for a while, which I think is secret dairymen code for; "You have done enough damage for the day."