Timber
Veteran Member
Dad hitched an old horse drawn plow to the back of an AG tractor and turned to you and said son get up in that seat right there and work that plow while I pull you through the field. You get up on that contraption and set your heals into the steering and grab on to the levers to set the blades. I might have been 10 years old. You drop off the header into the field and ease the blade into the earth and then she bites and starts to roll the earth over. Your doing your best to keep a strait line but never strait enough for dad. Your legs are so tired and then you reach the header on the other end and you can relax for a minute or 2 as dad swings the plow around for the next pass. You drop the other blade and she bites hard and this is your weak arm. Dad yells because you bit to deep and stopped the tractor. A new bite and the soil rolls off that shiny blade. 1/2 a day goes by and 2 dozen stone threaten to turn you over or tear your arm out of the shoulder and you just wish the sun would set so the day would end. Do you remember when. I have that plow to this very day so I would never forget. I keep it in perfect working condition