WHOA! WHOA! MY MOTHER'S DAY MEMORY.
Daddy bought his David Bradley Walk Behind Garden Tractor the Spring of 1947, before I was born the following December. 66 years later, me and the tractor are still running.
Time passed, Daddy became infected with the asbestos of the cotton mill, was 'retired' for all his loyal work, opened a successful service station/tire store, and continued to provide for his family as best he could. He never really has the physical ability to work that tractor after his illness, nor did he have the time. That did not stop him from lamenting about having a garden every spring and reliving stories of the bounties of gardens past.
ENTER MY LOVING MOTHER!
I guess I must have been 18 or 19 that Spring when she approached me and said that together we were going to put in a garden for Daddy. O.K., with me, for I knew Mother had not planned this out thoroughly and we should be in for some fun.
She did not tell Daddy what was afoot, as she wanted it to be a surprise. We went to the house we lived in on Power Plant Road(I always thought a lot of planning went into the naming of that thoroughfare), and Mother asked me to get the tractor ready. I had it fired up and running in 5 minutes. That was a wonderfully dependable machine. I took it down to the familiar garden spot and awaited further orders, where upon Mother ordered me to 'break up' as section of the garden.
I told her this tractor would not do that, we would need Mr. Caldwell, next door to come with his big tractor to do that, then we could use our little tractor.
That did not sit well at all with Mrs. Willie Mozelle Cook! She had planned for us to get his done by early afternoon and did not want to hear of any delays. She said if I wouldn't do it, she would do it herself! I maneuvered the David Bradley in to a straight line down the garden space and stepped back, there was no telling my Mother NO!
SHE UNLEASHED THE BEAST!
For those of you that have never experienced the power of this little tractor, you just had to be there to see this circus. This machine does not have different speeds, it just has a handle to flip forward to engage the motor and transmission. You had better be ready to work, as this tractor can pull a car down the road(but it can not break up hard ground).
I kept telling her that tractor would not break hard ground, then she said those magical words, "Shut up, I know what I am doing!"
"OK, sister have at it." As soon as I uttered those words, my Mother's farming adventure began. That tractor went from a happy little 'putt-putt-putt' idle into a mean sounding 'chug-chug-chug'. Let me tell you, when those tines are not digging into the dirt and are skipping along the top of hard ground, that tractor has got some speed.
There it went, full speed down the path, bumping and jumping on ever lump and clod, my Mother hanging on for dear life, her 125 lbs. looking like laundry flapping and drying in a Summer's breeze. "WHOA! WHOA! DANG IT! WHOA!", was coming from her at the top of her lungs! Well, me being me, all I could do was cup both hands to my mouth for extra volume and yell, "LOUDER, MA, I DON'T THINK IT CAN HEAR YOU!"
Thankfully at the end of the row, the tractor ran into a fence post and gave Mother the chance to kill the engine, by that I mean turn off the ignition, as she would have literally killed that tractor if she could have. When I saw that she was safe, I could hold it no longer, I started laughing that turning to crying. I was laying over a large tree stump, I had lost use of my legs I was so weak. I then felt what seemed like little bee stings on my legs. I looked around and Mother had broken a branch from an apple tree and was whipping my legs for laughing at her. The more she whipped the harder I laughed. "Stop laughing!", she ordered. "Stop whipping!", I said through tears of uncontrollable mirth. She stopped, looked at me, looked at the tractor, then she started laughing too. I stood up and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head. "You almost had it for a second!" She took her tiny fist and punched me on the shoulder.
After we regained our composure, I ran next door and happened to catch Mr. Caldwell at home, told him what we were doing for Daddy's surprise, and being the wonderful man that he was, came straight over and plowed up the garden and had it ready for us in almost no time.
I think of my Mother and this adventure every time the subject of gardening comes up.
I miss my Mother, my Daddy, and that deaf old tractor.
Daddy bought his David Bradley Walk Behind Garden Tractor the Spring of 1947, before I was born the following December. 66 years later, me and the tractor are still running.
Time passed, Daddy became infected with the asbestos of the cotton mill, was 'retired' for all his loyal work, opened a successful service station/tire store, and continued to provide for his family as best he could. He never really has the physical ability to work that tractor after his illness, nor did he have the time. That did not stop him from lamenting about having a garden every spring and reliving stories of the bounties of gardens past.
ENTER MY LOVING MOTHER!
I guess I must have been 18 or 19 that Spring when she approached me and said that together we were going to put in a garden for Daddy. O.K., with me, for I knew Mother had not planned this out thoroughly and we should be in for some fun.
She did not tell Daddy what was afoot, as she wanted it to be a surprise. We went to the house we lived in on Power Plant Road(I always thought a lot of planning went into the naming of that thoroughfare), and Mother asked me to get the tractor ready. I had it fired up and running in 5 minutes. That was a wonderfully dependable machine. I took it down to the familiar garden spot and awaited further orders, where upon Mother ordered me to 'break up' as section of the garden.
I told her this tractor would not do that, we would need Mr. Caldwell, next door to come with his big tractor to do that, then we could use our little tractor.
That did not sit well at all with Mrs. Willie Mozelle Cook! She had planned for us to get his done by early afternoon and did not want to hear of any delays. She said if I wouldn't do it, she would do it herself! I maneuvered the David Bradley in to a straight line down the garden space and stepped back, there was no telling my Mother NO!
SHE UNLEASHED THE BEAST!
For those of you that have never experienced the power of this little tractor, you just had to be there to see this circus. This machine does not have different speeds, it just has a handle to flip forward to engage the motor and transmission. You had better be ready to work, as this tractor can pull a car down the road(but it can not break up hard ground).
I kept telling her that tractor would not break hard ground, then she said those magical words, "Shut up, I know what I am doing!"
"OK, sister have at it." As soon as I uttered those words, my Mother's farming adventure began. That tractor went from a happy little 'putt-putt-putt' idle into a mean sounding 'chug-chug-chug'. Let me tell you, when those tines are not digging into the dirt and are skipping along the top of hard ground, that tractor has got some speed.
There it went, full speed down the path, bumping and jumping on ever lump and clod, my Mother hanging on for dear life, her 125 lbs. looking like laundry flapping and drying in a Summer's breeze. "WHOA! WHOA! DANG IT! WHOA!", was coming from her at the top of her lungs! Well, me being me, all I could do was cup both hands to my mouth for extra volume and yell, "LOUDER, MA, I DON'T THINK IT CAN HEAR YOU!"
Thankfully at the end of the row, the tractor ran into a fence post and gave Mother the chance to kill the engine, by that I mean turn off the ignition, as she would have literally killed that tractor if she could have. When I saw that she was safe, I could hold it no longer, I started laughing that turning to crying. I was laying over a large tree stump, I had lost use of my legs I was so weak. I then felt what seemed like little bee stings on my legs. I looked around and Mother had broken a branch from an apple tree and was whipping my legs for laughing at her. The more she whipped the harder I laughed. "Stop laughing!", she ordered. "Stop whipping!", I said through tears of uncontrollable mirth. She stopped, looked at me, looked at the tractor, then she started laughing too. I stood up and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head. "You almost had it for a second!" She took her tiny fist and punched me on the shoulder.
After we regained our composure, I ran next door and happened to catch Mr. Caldwell at home, told him what we were doing for Daddy's surprise, and being the wonderful man that he was, came straight over and plowed up the garden and had it ready for us in almost no time.
I think of my Mother and this adventure every time the subject of gardening comes up.
I miss my Mother, my Daddy, and that deaf old tractor.
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