A Runaway Deere!

A Runaway Deere!

After my family moved to a house on Pittsfield Street in Pennsville, New Jersey it became difficult for my grandparents to maintain their farm along the banks of the Delaware River. All their children had married and moved from the farm, and good farm help was hard to find. One hired man proved to be a particularly bad choice. He started the old John Deere tractor one day after being instructed to plow a certain field. He never disclosed that he’d never before driven a tractor a day in his life. Well, that tractor started up all right, and went pop-popping every which way, and the hand didn’t know how to stop it. Screaming and hollering, holding on for dear life, he plowed up a good part of pasture, tore down a goodly portion of barbed-wire fence, heavily rutted about a half-mile of the farm lane, and ran down some small peach trees that Pop had recently planted. The ill-fated sortie finally came to an end when the tractor, which fortunately hadn’t been filled, ran out of fuel. So did the job of that so-called “farm-hand.”


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