Desperate Times

I've learned that even though I'm not real far from where I grew up, farming practices are more different than one would expect!  Back home there's more hills.  The "hills" here make the hills back home look like mountains.  The lack of hills allows the equipment here to be bigger.  There aren't many terraces around here and almost everyone does some sort of tillage.

The guys have some awesome help around the farm, but sometimes when the perfect day for hunting arises they are short a guy.  

Enter me. 

I rode with DJ to get some parts last Saturday morning and he was trying to figure out how everything was going to get done that day when he had the bright idea that I should rip.  I told him he would have to teach me and he couldn't get mad because I'm a slow learner.  

And then he taught me.  And then he left me.  Alone.  I only had to call him once a few times.  Surprisingly, everyone/everything survived.  I'm sure they were up on the hill laughing at me (turning is hard), but I didn't hear anyone complain for free help!!  Now I can't say I only drive the green tractor (aka lawnmower)...  

I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ripping the corn field