Thomas,
About forty seven years ago or so we moved to where there was work for my dad. It was six days a week ten hours a day working for a farmer with tons of acres, two dairies, twenty thousand layers, and white faced calves coming off the ranch to be fattened up.
We're talking just outside of Glendale Arizona and miles of alfalfa. The old boy had a deal with Farmall for testing the new tractors. Dad still gets a smile about being the first one besides the owner to drive the first power steering'd Farmall to come on the place for testing.
But when dad first started he was nervous of course. And things being karma like I guess he got the old Case tricycle the first day. And since karma is such a contankerous kinda cuss she had dad break off the front end of the tractor early like in some high Johnson grass with a hole. Mostly for grins I'm sure, like I said she's a contankerous kind of lady most days and all nights.
Dad hoofed back to the office just pure t sure he'd had his first and last day. The foreman had told him that the owner dearly loved that old Case and to be real careful not let it get a scratch.
He told the foreman. The foreman shook his head with one of those "glad to have known you" shakes. Then he took dad to the owner and the three of them went down to see the Case. Now as you can imagine dad was in one of those moods where one can inspect the bottom of whale crap if one has a decent step ladder.
The owner got out and looked the situation over. Shook his head and said something along the line that he'd probably done the same thing if'n he'd been in dad's shoes.
Now I don't know if any of the Roveys are still in the area or if they're still farming. But if any of them tune in to TBN they'll have bushel baskets of stories about old Emil and his tractors. My whole life if I wanted to get my dad a talking when he wasn't in a talking mood all I had to do was ask him about that old farmer he worked for when I was a kid. The first story out of the box would and will be about that Case tricycle and how dad just knew his goose was not only cooked but stuffed.
Sorta funny how it all works. I sit here and wonder just how that story he told me affected the times when a man working for me screwed up and I acted like it was just a thing and a not a big thing at that. I guess if I thought about such things I'd come to the conclusion that dad's admiration and respect for Emil Rovey made such an impression on me that more than once I tried to emulate Emil without even thinking about it.
Sorry Thomas for rambling, old tractors and their tales will cause that I understand.....
