[AT] A City Boy Finda True Love!

[Charlie V]

You do get around, Dave.  Lonsberry has been making a big fuss about the
tractor rental for a week or so.  Almost as if he had invented dirt.  All
he knew about tractors before that is that there is a Ford called an 8N.
Good tractor publicity though and he does have a flair with a pencil,
doesn't he.

Thanks for posting.

Charlie V.


On Wed, Apr 23, 2014 at 11:50 AM, David Rotigel <rotigel at me.com> wrote:

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> LONSBERRY POLL
> Have you ever brush hogged?
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> CHERRY NO MORE
>
> I’m not saying brush hogging is as good as sex, I’m saying that sex is as
> good as brush hogging.
>
> I learned that Saturday, when I became a man.
>
> Brush hogging? It’s when you put a farm tractor between your legs with a
> massive, throbbing rotary mower on the back, and enjoy the pleasures of
> heaven.
>
> Like I said, this happened for me Saturday.
>
> It was my first time.
>
> And she was not gentle.
>
> Some five years ago I bought a small piece of country land, eight acres of
> hillside swamp mostly choked with bushes and weeds and crap. I want to turn
> it into a family recreational area – cabin, pond, bonfire, shooting range –
> but mostly all I’ve done so far is plant apple trees.
>
> But this year I’m getting serious. My little children are getting older
> and my bigger children are probably soon to have children of their own, so
> I’ve got to get this place done. I’ve got one guy building me a shed and
> another guy getting me some Grade-A windows for it and from another guy I’m
> getting a little wood stove and it looks like I’ve negotiated an agreement
> with my wife to earmark money for the bulldozer man to put me in a pond
> this summer.
>
> Fingers crossed and prayers said, this is the year things get done and the
> enjoyment truly begins.
>
> So I had to do something about the brush.
>
> I was thinking about that a couple of weeks ago driving through a little
> town between my house and the country land. Out of the corner of my eye I
> saw a sign for a new rental place.
>
> That’s when I saw her.
>
> My nostrils flared.
>
> Blue, compact, nice backend, biggest, softest tires I’d ever seen.
>
> I turned around and went back. I picked up a pamphlet.
>
> And I began to dream.
>
> And Saturday that dream came true.
>
> I met the man at the rental place early. We walked around her and he
> answered my questions, explained how things worked. On the right, there are
> two pedals – the one with the forward arrow makes it go forward, the one
> with the backward arrow makes it go backward. There are brakes on the left.
> Brakes are for pansies. The knob to turn on the mower is on the dash, the
> control for the big bucket or loader on the front as at your right hand.
> The throttle is a little lever on the side of the dash. Try to keep it
> around 2,000 rpm, he said.
>
> Then he loaded her on a trailer and hauled her out to my country land. A
> handshake and a wave later and he was gone and the clock on my eight hours
> had started to run.
>
> That’s when I became a man.
>
> That’s when, in the true spirit of Earth Day, I wrought havoc on the
> natural world. It was man versus nature and I had diesel on my side. I’m a
> Republican, we clear brush – ask Reagan or George W.
>
> I picked a stretch of shoulder-high willows and aimed for the middle.
> Lumbering along at a steady pace, it was like a knife through butter, and
> behind me was a smooth stretch of order and discipline.
>
> That’s when the bliss set in.
>
> That’s when I was initiated into the wonderful, intimate, private beauty
> of the relationship between a man and his tractor.
>
> If tractors had boobs, men would never go home to their wives.
>
> It was that good.
>
> You very quickly develop a finesse, where the slightest touch of foot or
> hand moves this or reverses that. Lift a little, turn here, bear down
> there. It was as much fun as the Tonka trucks of boyhood, except this one
> made its own noise.
>
> It was amazing what it was able to accomplish. On my little plot of land,
> I pushed back the brush and cleared up space that nearly doubled the open,
> usable area. Instead of a useless bramble, it was an airy, spacious park.
>
> I opened areas for more fruit trees and berry bushes, I put in a couple of
> shady places for picnic tables, I made paths that tied the land together.
>
> All while almost literally yelling for pure glee and enjoyment.
>
> Do you know why poor people use crack? Because they can’t afford a tractor
> to go brush hogging.
>
> It was a direct flight back to my redneck roots. I honestly believe at one
> point I heard the voice of Jase from “Duck Dynasty” yelling, “Give it more
> gas!” in his whiney drawl.
>
> At first I was gentle.
>
> Then not so much.
>
> At the end I was pulling her hair and calling her a dirty girl.
>
> That’s when things got hard for the hawthorn trees.
>
> Just four of them.
>
> One needed to move so I had room to get my shed brought in. The other
> three were clustered under a beautiful maple tree where I thought my kids
> would like to read in the shade.
>
> Obviously, you can’t mow down a tree with a brush hog.
>
> Dammit.
>
> But there is that blade on the front.
>
> And after a while a man does start to wonder, “What happens if I run into
> that tree with the blade?”
>
> “A lot.”
>
> Over and over. High and low. This side and that side.
>
> And then, what if you try to pry that blade in under the roots and then
> lift it.
>
> Well, the tree ultimately goes horizontal.
>
> At that point, you literally feel the hair growing on your chest.
>
> Sure, women can brush hog, but only if they want to grow a mustache and
> start watching "Sports Center."
>
> Somehow, that marvelous piece of machinery turns diesel fuel into
> testosterone and infuses it into the seat of your pants.
>
> I only got it stuck three times.
>
> Once was in mud, and I was able to push myself back out with the bucket.
> The other two times were in the middle of the woods, making trails, when I
> got it wedged between trees. Each time my initial panic was having to show
> the rental man where I had marooned his tractor. But each time I found that
> a little bit of back and forth, in and out, forward and back, finally got
> me free.
>
> As the clock ran down on my eight hours and the tank was emptying out, I
> drove her back out by the road and parked her. Then I walked bowlegged to
> my truck.
>
> At last, I was a man.
>
> I might have to buy some more land, so I’ll have more brush to clear.
>
> There might be things more enjoyable than brush hogging, but none of them
> are legal, and all of them will send you to hell.
>
>
> - by Bob Lonsberry © 2014
>
>
>
>
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