The Long Haul

I spent a recent Saturday helping my dad on the farm. We needed to haul the hay from the field to the barn for the winter. A storm was on it's way so we had to work hard and fast to get it in the barn before it started to rain. My Job: drive the truck.

This is a 1955 Chevy. The stirring wheel is gigantic and the only power steering is that supplied by my own two arms. It is a stick shift, of course, it is difficult to get the truck moving without popping the clutch or ruining the U-joints (I have no idea what a U-joint is, that's what my dad said). This is what the interior looks like. My dad told me not to rip his seat cover. I told him I was more concerned about ripping my pants sitting on his seat cover. This is the vehicle I first learned to drive. My brother came in the house one day when I was about 10. He informed me that he was going to teach me to drive. He needed to get the hay hauled and I was his only choice for a driver.

There is an elevator attached on the one side of the truck so that when I drive down the rows of hay bales in the field I have to line the elevator up with the bale of hay on the ground. Then, there is a conveyor belt that lifts the bale up to the top of the truck. As the bale goes up the elevator hay leaves fall inside the window and I get covered in leaves and dirt. My dad and brothers work on the back of the truck and they stack the bales. Does that all make sense? (It sounds more technical than it really is.) The bottom line is, that it is not easy to line the truck up with the bales using my two little arms and the gigantic steering wheel. I used to drive with tears running down my dirty face because it was so frustrating. I spent every summer of my teenage years driving this truck. When I wasn't crying, I used to drive along thinking about boys like all teenage girls do.

After driving this thing for 20 years I finally got the hang of it. I even drove with Nessa. We sang Old McDonald Had a Farm (I thought it was a fitting song). She eventually fell asleep. I think it was the noise and constant rocking motion from the truck. I would say that I almost enjoyed it this time around. I still found myself thinking about boys while driving, this time they were three little boys, their younger sisters, and one amazing dad. Times change in some ways, in other ways, it stays the same.