I prayed on the wrong tractor

 

I met a ten gallon hat last week that was sitting on the head of 2 gallon cowboy, who thought maybe it would be a good idea to bring back rustling cows. I chocked it up to heat stroke during a warmer than usual haying season. He flashed this amazing idea to the farmer, who owns the cows, were standing alongside of; the farmer wasn’t too impressed with this idea, and sometimes I can understand why farmers think the rest of us are stupid.  

 

He made quite the sales pitch how he prefers beef to venison; how rustling one cow would be all the meat he’d need for a complete year, and besides it seemed to him, the farmer wouldn’t miss one cow. The ten gallon hat owner sells car parts for a living and the farmer offered, how about if he just rustled his car parts from now on.  The hat, thought that would be stealing, and rustling cattle sounded fun.  

 

I’m not normally involved in these super interesting cattle car part conversations, as a matter of fact, I’m more often than not, off all by myself trout fishing this time of year but the farmers wife, who normally drives a tractor, broke her foot, so the four footed farm was reduced to three feet, which wouldn’t work, they asked if I could help, I said sure and so did the ten gallon hat’s owner.

 

I don’t know anything about farming, I don’t even pretend to know anything about farming, I can come up with a fishing tale or lie in the blink of an eye about fishing but since I know absolutely less than zero about farming I cant bullsh - -  my way around a farm, I know enough not to step in the bullsh-  - , but the guy with the hat sure didn’t. He broke into his rustling idea again and the farmer told me to drive the mowing tractor, I couldn’t wait to go mow, all by myself. The farmer told Mr. ten gallon hat to drive the raking tractor.

 

They both looked like tractors to me. I drove my tractor to the east field, the other tractor went west. Tractors have always looked fun to me and tractors, as it turns out, are fun, for the first few rows of mowing, then there not so fun. After about the fourth row, and I figure I cut about 16 million rows, there just loud.  You know what I was thinking about after just fifteen rows, I think I prayed the tractor would run out of gas so it would stop being so loud, I prayed for rain and flat tires, I prayed for locusts, I didn’t get any of my prayers answered, which by the way when I’m fishing I’ve prayed for fish to bite, that didn’t, so whether I was in the water or the hay field, I learned my all wet prayers aint much better than hot dry prayers.

 

So somewhere about seven thirty in the evening, long after I quit praying, the farmer showed up in a pick up truck, to pick me up. He told me his other tractor broke down about an hour after we started. An axle broke. He said he sent the other guy home, wouldn’t need him tomorrow, cuz he knew I’d be there.  The trout whisperer

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