Wayne and I thought we should build a cabin in the woods at the upper end of the pond. We read a lot of Field and Stream magazine stories about fishing hunting and hunting camps. Having our very own hunting camp became a necessity. This way we could get up early to go duck hunting without listening to Momma fuss about how cold it was and how we shouldn't get out in the cold, rainy weather. Momma just didn't know anything about duck huntin'. Also, she insisted on fixing our breakfast at 4:00 o'clock in the morning to insure that we had enough body fuel to keep us warm. We just didn't want Momma fussin' over us like that; After all, we were now 14 years old and able to take care of ourselves. Building our own cabin in the woods at the head of the pond would solve all this fuss over our welfare and give 14 year olds deserved independence from parents.

One of Daddy's old houses needed too much work to make it livable. So, he told Wayne and me to tear it down and use the lumber to build the cabin. Hauling the lumber about a mile and a half was no problem. We'd use the tractor and trailer. Tearing down the old house turned out to be a major job, especially knowing that Daddy had told us that we couldn't just pick at it to get the lumber we needed. If we would tear it down and remove it, then okay, it was ours. But we couldn't take the best and leave the rest for him to clean up. We agreed to the deal.

Tractor driving skills came in good and served us well in this venture, until I got into too big of a hurry one day. The woods road around the edge of the pond leading to the upper end was about one-half a mile long. Like most woods roads, it was first an old logging trail, and then used as a farm road to reach some fields. In one place along the road, trees had grown pretty close on either side of the road allowing about a foot of passage space for the rear tractor wheels. It was great fun to throttle up the tractor and zip along this road, maneuvering around curves, aiming the racing tractor through the narrows. Having the trailer bouncing behind the tractor added to fun and required extra skill to get everything down the woods road safely. With all the trips back and forth from the old house site to the new cabin site, I'd memorized every turn, bump in the trail, and every narrow passage that required close attention. Well, almost!

On the most memorable trip, it was like lightning had struck. CRASH! BAM! CLANG! The tractor came to a dead stop! My gosh! I had wrecked the tractor! The right rear wheel caught one of the trees in the narrow passage, while the momentum kept the front of the tractor going straight. Bad news! The main housing was busted. All of the insides (gears) were showing. I jumped down and ran around to the front of the tractor and attempted to set the front back to a position perpendicular to the rear axles when the engine nearly toppled over completely. Had it toppled, the front of the tractor would have been on the ground with rear wheels still in the upright position. The short walk to the store to tell Daddy seemed like five miles.

When I arrived, Momma was in the store, too. Neither of them at that moment fully appreciated the situation. I was glad because it delayed the agony of truth, yet to be revealed. Daddy didn't appear too-o-o-o upset when I told him that I had an accident on the tractor. Maybe, he was just glad to see that I wasn't hurt. Daddy and I walked up through the woods to the tractor. Once he rounded the bend in the road and saw the position of the tractor with it's rear axle completely discombobulated, his fast walk went into a trot. The closer he got to the tractor, the faster he started cussin' and the higher the pitch of his voice. When Daddy's voice reached a high pitch, it was almost a cry. He was upset. "Billy, you tore up my -*&^%#*-- tractor, tore it all to hell - - - why did you do it? _ _ _ _ I just don't know how you did that? You were driving too -*&%$@&#- fast! YOU TORE UP MY TRACTOR! Your tore it all to hell -&^%$#@#- !" This tirade went on for a while. I'm sure it was just a few seconds, but it seemed like an hour as he paced around the tractor several times, waving his arms in disbelief. I guess the sight of his tractor in such an awful mess caused him to forget about the whipping.

A few days later I took Mr. Delmus to the site. Mr. Delmus worked at the chalk mine and was known as the best welder in the community. Sure enough, he was good. He spent the day welding everything back together, good as new. We filled the transmission with oil, cranked the tractor with a hand crank, and I drove it to the store to fill the tank with gas.

Nothing else was ever said about the tractor. There were two things about Daddy --- when he got mad, he usually got real mad. Once he got over it, he never harped on a bad event again.

©2003 - William C. Humphries, Jr.