Apr 10, 2017 3 min read

For years I’ve said that I don’t want to learn anything new about farming because it will somehow become my responsibility after that. When I learned to use the riding lawn tractor, I became responsible to mow the grass. When I learned to run the rototiller, the gardening was all mine, and when I learned to rake hay, I became part of that crew, as well.

Since my plate is pretty full, I did the only thing that I could think of to save my sanity. I have adamantly refused to learn to do anything else for the past several years. It has worked wonderfully.

Fast forward to this year.

My husband had unexpected surgery and is restricted from doing many of the tasks required to keep our business running. I am currently attempting to learn to do a number of things that I have avoided doing in the past in order to keep our operation afloat until he returns to work.

Something I haven’t managed to learn yet – due to lack of skill, not lack of effort – is how to drive one of his pickup trucks while pulling a trailer. I have moved them around our farm but never felt confident enough to take them out onto the road.

The trailer in question is 28 feet long. Add that to the length of the truck and you have quite a lengthy endeavor on your hands. I have the mental concept of how much space that requires for turning and such, but to apply that in real life, with real obstacles in my way, saps my confidence. With no confidence, I have no business taking it into traffic.

Instead, I have called upon friends and family alike who are capable – and willing – to drive my work crew around when it’s necessary to take the trailer with us.

The guy who drove us this past weekend used to work for us when he was in school. He is an easygoing, ready-to-laugh, easy-to-be-around kind of guy, and we are glad to know him. His lovely girlfriend volunteered him to help, and we are glad to know her, too.

He is a talented driver, and I felt extremely comfortable riding with him. We had ample opportunity to laugh along the way, as he and my kids always pick on one another like siblings.

Another reason I got to laugh was due to the horn.

Apparently, the horn in Ford trucks is raised a little higher on the steering wheel than in other makes of truck. Our friend also boasts forearms a little larger than others. Anytime he had to cut the wheel hard to back up – like into the barn where we were loading straw – his Popeye arm would beep the horn.

I was out of the truck, assisting in directing him where he needed to go, but at each beep, I would look at him to determine whether he was trying to get my attention for some reason. Each time, I was met with his cheesy grin in the side mirror.

We finished the job, the straw is where it needs to be, and I didn’t have to drive. Couple that with all of the laughing we did, and I say it was a success. Not to toot my own horn, mind you.

My driver does that quite enough.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.