"I’ll be there in no time."

by Katie on June 10, 2010

We were farming in style last week with a just-entered-into-production John Deere test tractor one of Brandon’s good buddies hooked us up with.
Let’s just say we don’t have anything that even compares.
When a friend stopped by to ride along with me and check it out, I said, “Step into my office,” as he entered the cab.
Because y’all, that’s exactly what it felt like. It was spacious, held two computer screens (one for the GPS, the other for the tractor itself), a digital screen for speed and RPM, a pretty crazy stereo system complete with an MP3 player, and who knows what else.
The first day I was supposed to take full reins on driving this sucker, I, of course, beat Brandon to the field. I gave him a call, and he said he was just pulling out of the shop. The shop that is more than ten miles away.
I was a bit antsy and didn’t want to sit and wait for him to drive a tractor that far. So I asked if I could drive through the bank and run another errand until he arrived.
He said, “Katie, this thing flies down the road. I’ll be going 26 miles a hour. I’m going to be there in no time.”
And that’s when I knew something was officially wrong with us.
When I heard my husband say he would be flying down the road at a whopping 26 miles per hour.

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