Baling Out
NextBackHay making saw the pleasant task of bale hauling. Most farmers put their hand in their pocket and bought a trailer, not so our skinny Raymond. A cheap buck rake used for the silage was a perfect substitute. Thus the incident of the skewering of Cliff! Having now enlarged the fleet of grey tractors to two, Cliff and I were returning back to the farm in convoy at dusk with loaded buck rakes. Broadly speaking I stopped to open the gate and Cliff, bless his cotton socks became impaled up my rear. Clouds of steam hissed into the warm evening dusk and the fan belt screamed as the tractor revved in protest at being so mortally wounded. The grinding rending metal sound as I slowly pulled away from the crestfallen Cliff could probably be likened to the death throes of the Titanic as she finally broke in two and slid beneath the waves. The next day being Monday, I was at school and so did not witness the public flogging and ear bending our Cliff must have got.
