So Wave to the Tractor, And to the Tractor Shed
At a recently attended wedding, held in the majestically grand Quad Cities of Middle America, the fun for the author here doesn't end at the reception. Or at the bus trip to the Indian casino. Three brave souls have ditched the baggage that is the significant other, and have bravely soldiered on to the sole bar in downtown Moline, Illinois still serving alcohol until three in the morning. These exemplary citizens of the Vagrancy Republic proudly down as many cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon as the young, rather unattractive barmaid will serve them, but the hour of three strikes, and like Cinderella at the ball, they are unceremoniously driven from this farm country watering hole. Our three brave soldiers of indecency are thrown onto the unforgiving, mean streets of farmland urbanity.
En route to their temporary abodes in the five-star Moline Radisson, they appear. These gigantic, green behemoths of childhood legend: the display farm tractors of John Deere Commons. The huge machines of Agrimerica beckon, unguarded in the warm summer air, and the "Do Not Climb" placards are no deterrent for these upstanding members of the bar. Steel cabins, rubber wheels taller than an NBA center, scoops of yellow large enough to hold an automobile: how marvelous is the intersection of technology and agriculture!
Ascending these tractors is no small feat considering our heroes level of intoxication, taking into account also their formal wedding attire of suit and tie. Climb they did, take pictures they did. Dismount gracefully, they did not.
My friend has a broken foot, ladies and gentlemen, he just called me from the doctor's office. Several weeks of walking into courtrooms with a walking cast and cane for Mr. Local Prosecutor. And his wife is furious. But the photos are worth it.
En route to their temporary abodes in the five-star Moline Radisson, they appear. These gigantic, green behemoths of childhood legend: the display farm tractors of John Deere Commons. The huge machines of Agrimerica beckon, unguarded in the warm summer air, and the "Do Not Climb" placards are no deterrent for these upstanding members of the bar. Steel cabins, rubber wheels taller than an NBA center, scoops of yellow large enough to hold an automobile: how marvelous is the intersection of technology and agriculture!
Ascending these tractors is no small feat considering our heroes level of intoxication, taking into account also their formal wedding attire of suit and tie. Climb they did, take pictures they did. Dismount gracefully, they did not.
My friend has a broken foot, ladies and gentlemen, he just called me from the doctor's office. Several weeks of walking into courtrooms with a walking cast and cane for Mr. Local Prosecutor. And his wife is furious. But the photos are worth it.
posted by Jason at 16:18
6 Comments:
Cool story, with a nice style to it. This past weekend my wife and I were away in upstate VT. In a women's clothing store there were a slew of John Deere t-shirts for women. All were in the Deere-green with yellow lettering. My favorite was "I make dirt look good." I begged my wife to buy one,but she refused. None for my sons, as the shirts were clearly for the women, and not littluns.
That's a pretty funny story. I like your style; it's very individual.
You aren't as good as me, of course, but that goes without saying.
Tractor
Dispepsic Deere
harvests Summer mayhem
metes temperance with a "CRACK"
Dude, new post already. Thanks, btw, for the lengthy comment over at my house. You made some very good and interesting points about the feel-good groupthink in the comments thread and, I must confess, in the original post.
Anyway, this was a good, well-told story here, but it's time for another.
I'm with Gas Guy. We're at eighteen freakin' days already. You've got to have a story about something by now. And thanks for the birthday wishes.
Wow, congrats on the lengthy spam. You can eliminate most of it by going into your settings, clicking "comments," and then clicking "yes" on the "enable word verification" option. It forces people to identify html graphic letters before signing in, something that computers, which generate the huge majority of spam, cannot do. Hope that's helpful.
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