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Old 03.03.2021, 21:24
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The tractor

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centered around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favorite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminum drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighboring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor, “But what of your visit? I take it you have some sort of special news?”
“Very much so” said Jeff. Trevor could tell that Jeff was struggling to contain his glee.
“I’ve heard a word on the grapevine that a Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 will be there”.

Trevor nearly choked on his tea. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000. Trevor immediately ran to the cabinet where he kept his tractor publications, and started rifling through the various annuals and magazines, before he found what he was looking for: the Forbes Guide of the Best Tractors. He flicked through the pages until he was satisfied, and then excitedly showed the result to Jeff.
“You mean this?” he gestured gleefully, stabbing his finger at the page. It was a review of the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000, and by jove was it glowing.
This was the tractor that Trevor had been searching for his whole life.
“Oh yes” said Jeff, “The very same one.”
“Then when we go, we absolutely have to try it”.

The convention was three weeks away, but Trevor could not contain his excitement. Every day he would spend hours reading up on the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 in every detail. He would struggle to sleep at night over excitement of first seeing the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000. And when he finally did succumb to slumber, he would dream of owning a Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 of his very own.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, the day came.

As per every year, Trevor and Jeff were both first in line when the convention opened. They had camped out the night before, just outside the entrance to where the convention was to take place. As soon as they paid the entrance fee, they set about, scurrying through every exhibit.
Trevor pored over every item on display. He spent hours making notes on tractor designs that he saw, and simply admiring the machinery on display. However, the time eventually came where he could wait no longer, and he started looking specifically for the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000.
It took a while to find the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000, as the exhibition was so vast. Ut, after some searching, Trevor stopped dead in his tracks. There it was.
The enormous machine was surrounded by a huge crowd, so Trevor had to barge and push his way to the front to get a better view. He gawked at the specification of the thing. It held the world-tractor speed record (98 mph, phwoar). It had the smoothest ride, best suspension, biggest tires, and best overall performance of any tractor in the world. Then Trevor spotted something that almost made his heart explode.
A sign read “FREE RIDES WITH INSTRUCTOR TODAY. EXPERIENCE THE TARROCK-FUCHS XM1-5000 FOR YOURSELF!”
Trevor steadied himself, took an aspirin, and then headed over to the small booth, were a line had formed of people wanting to drive the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000.

Trevor’s heart bounced as his foot squeezed on the accelerator pedal. The great beast lumbered gently forwards, and Trevor was ecstatic. His dreams had been realized.
“Steady as she does it” advised the instructor as the tractor gradually gathered pace. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 was gliding seamlessly over the rough terrain, the state-of-the-art suspension cushioning the ride with ease. It felt like the perfect blend of Rolls-Royce comfort with military-grade off-road performance.
The instructor glanced at Trevor. Something was wrong.
Trevor’s pupils were dilated. He was sweating profusely. His sweat-drenched hands were clamped onto the steering wheel in a death grip. His face was heavily contorted.
“Trevor?” asked the instructor nervously. Trevor did not respond. His condition did not improve. His foot descended further on the accelerator pedal. The tractor gathered speed.
“Trevor?!” the instructor half-shouted. But it was no use.
The many years that Trevor had studied and waited for this moment, were too much for his conscience to bear. He was in a trance. He was disconnected from reality; his psyche was unable to cope with the extreme level of joy he was experiencing. It was as though he was paralyzed; he was fully aware of his situation, but unable to do anything about it.
At this point, the tractor was seriously gathering speed. The smooth ride was gone, now the tractor was bouncing over the field at over fifty miles an hour.
“TREVOR!” bellowed the instructor. He tried to take control: he grabbed the steering wheel, but Trevor’s iron grip would not yield. Trevor’s foot was now firmly buried in the throttle; being in the world’s fastest tractor was now a matter of life and death.
The instructor turned to look ahead. He was horrified by what he saw. They had traveled so far that they were almost at the end of the field. At the field’s edge was a deep ditch. The tractor, although now racing at full pelt, would not make the jump.
The instructor grabbed Trevor and tried to wrestle him from the controls, but it was no use. Trevor’s loss of bodily consciousness was carrying them both towards almost certain death. The instructor made one last, fruitless attempt to recover Trevor’s senses, before turning and leaping clear.
Trevor knew what was happening, but he had no way of stopping what was coming next. His eyes wide in horror, and his foot still glued to the floor, the tractor hurled off the edge of the field and into oblivion.

Trevor’s vision was ablaze. His head was spinning, and he could barely hear or see. His hearing was clouded, as though someone had fired a gun in close proximity to his ear. He could only hear what sounded like muffled shouting. He tried to move, but he was trapped beneath the wreckage.
The next thing he felt was a pair of arms grabbing him by his upper body. His vision started to clear. He could see as few people moving around him; they were clearing the wreckage so they could drag him out. Blurred figures were running towards the ruined tractor – now starting to catch fire – with extinguishers.
Something that was in his way was moved, and he was free. Several people grabbed him, dragging him to his feet, and half-carried him to a waiting ambulance. Trevor was dazed; he couldn’t make sense of anything.
..
Trevor was taken for a thorough examination at the local hospital. Miraculously he hadn’t broken anything, but he had concussion and severe bruising. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 had not been kind to him.
His family came to visit him, along with the tractor instructor and several other officials from the show. Luckily the tractor instructor had sustained only minor injuries from his fall. Trevor apologized profusely. He could not forgive himself for almost killing this man.
Trevor was eventually discharged from the hospital, with a full set of therapy sessions booked in. His excitement at the prospect of driving a tractor for the first time had brewed over thirty years, and in the moment when the chance finally came, it had boiled over, in a way that was almost fatal.

Trevor mulled over the events of that fateful day for several long weeks. Eventually, he came to a shocking, life-changing decision.
He did not like tractors any more.
Within the next week, his house was stripped bare. Out went the tractor bed sheets. Out went the tractor pajamas. Out went the tractor wallpaper, crockery, magazines, books, DVDs, carpets, shirts, the lot. Trevor wanted nothing more than to rid his life of infernal tractors.
When he had gutted the house, and all his tractor-themed possessions were filling several skips at the front of his house, Trevor sat down on his front porch, and burst into tears.

Months later, Trevor was sat in his local pub, surrounded by empty jars of ale. Without tractors, he was nothing. He had turned to drink for solace, and he had spent many a penny at his local watering hole, drowning his sorrows. Most of the pub regulars kept a wide berth from him; he had previously been known locally as Tractor Man, but now any mention of those machines near Trevor sparked off bouts of post-traumatic-stress, so everyone knew to give him space.
Trevor sat silently, contemplating his future. It was looking bleak; now that tractors had been removed, something had to fill the void. But he had no idea what could.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. No…someone.
A young, blond-haired girl was sat in the corner of the pub, alone. Her body language suggested strongly that she didn’t want to be there. She wasn’t drinking; she was simply sat still, staring into space.
Trevor felt some compulsion to approach her. So he did.
“Excuse me” he murmured as he stepped up to her table. The girl looked up. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
“Do you need any help?” he asked.
The girl invited him to sit down, and she told her story. Her name was Sue, and she had once been the landlady at this very pub. She had inherited it through three successive generations, and was very proud.
The pub had had a smoking ban during Sue’s time, and she had enjoyed the cleanliness of the air. But, a few months ago, a highly litigious gentleman had visited her pub, and insisted that he should be able to smoke wherever and whenever he damned well pleased. Sue had tried to reason with him, asking him first to stop smoking, or to do it outside, but eventually she was forced to ask him to leave. Enraged, the man had taken the pub to court, where he managed to swing the jury into letting him win a case against Sue on counts of discrimination. Sue had to sell the pub to cover her legal costs, and the smoking ban was lifted. Now, all smokers in the town had flocked to the pub, as it was one of the very few in town where smoking was allowed, and were reveling in the new found freedom. All the while, Sue grew sadder that her pub, her baby, had fallen awry under her tenure of care.

Trevor looked around. The pub was indeed stuffed with acrid, black smoke. The accompanying, putrid stench was unbearable.
On cue, Trevor stood up. In one, deep, almighty breath, he sucked the entire bar clean of the dirty, acrid smoke. No-one in the bar had ever seen anything like it. With one almighty puff Trevor had cleared out the foul stench and the bar smelt as clear as a field on a summer’s day.
Trevor swallowed, and calmly sat down. Sue was ecstatic.
“Trevor!” she exclaimed, so surprised she was struggling for words, “That was amazing! How on earth did you do that?!”
“Well,” said Trevor proudly, sitting up straight,
“I’m an ex-tractor fan”.
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  #2  
Old 03.03.2021, 21:58
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Re: The tractor

Tl;dr
  #3  
Old 03.03.2021, 22:07
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Re: The tractor

  #4  
Old 03.03.2021, 23:49
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Re: The tractor

FFS, I read all that for a dad joke.
  #5  
Old 04.03.2021, 06:37
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Re: The tractor

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FFS, I read all that for a dad joke.
Yup, thank you for your endurance...
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Old 04.03.2021, 06:40
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Re: The tractor

Cletus is passing by Billy Bob's hay barn one day when, through a gap in the door, he sees Billy Bob doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old green John Deere.

Buttocks clenched, he performs a slow pirouette, and gently slides off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunches his shoulders forward and in a classic striptease move, lets his overalls fall down to his hips, revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt. Then, grabbing both sides of his shirt, he rips it apart to reveal his stained T-shirt underneath. With a final flourish, he tears the T-shirt from his body, and
hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.

Having seen enough, Cletus rushes in and says, "What the heck are you doing, Billy Bob?"

"Jeez, Cletus, ya scared the bejeezers out of me," says an
embarrassed Billy Bob. "But me'n the Ol' Lady been havin trouble lately in the bedroom d'partment, and the therapist
suggested I do 'something sexy to a tractor'."
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  #7  
Old 04.03.2021, 11:55
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Re: The tractor

Thanks, I love short stories The first half had this vibe of short SF stories I love.

Last edited by Axa; 04.03.2021 at 12:26.
  #8  
Old 04.03.2021, 12:33
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Re: The tractor

This one definitely deserved its own thread
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Old 04.03.2021, 14:49
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Re: The tractor

Sadly it’s not from me but ripped from another forum.
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Old 04.03.2021, 15:04
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Re: The tractor

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Sadly it’s not from me but ripped from another forum.
You don't say? And there was everyone thinking you'd written the whole tome yourself, dodgy American spellings and all.
  #11  
Old 04.03.2021, 15:49
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Re: The tractor

So you drive a Volvo?
  #12  
Old 04.03.2021, 16:01
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Re: The tractor

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So you drive a Volvo?
Why not a Lamborghini R6? Tell people you keep your Lambo out at a farm for storage.
 




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