Of legends are us.a as a

Blow me down if that drainage ditch incident earlier hadn’t re-surfaced long forgotten memories of previous episodes from bygone years back on the farm.
Here and now, at this present time whilst sat on my motorbike looking across the river, I felt lucky to have walked away from that accidental spill into the ditch full of water just a few hours ago.
There had been a time back along when ……………………. actually, yeah, come to think of it!
It was weird how the mind can recount incidents from years ago in a flash when faced with a similar predicament. The farm incidents had an uncannily similar feel about them to various stuff with bikes, and in the quarries too for that matter.
That was definitely the case with myself. There seemed to be a recurring theme.
Maybe others experienced the same too. I hadn’t seen it this way before.
Could it be then that I was meant to end up in that ditch with my motorbike upside down in the water for a reason? Like fete, sort of thing. It was another good reason for me to consider whether off road motorcycle competition for me had developed as far as it was ever going to, and in doing so then maybe it was also worth considering the practicalities of maintaining it as a hobby. I wasn’t getting any younger after all.
There were options available if I so chose, true enough. I could if I so wished ride club races in the massively over subscribed and vacillatingly competitive but less predictable experts 3 class and go for the fun factor. That though came with its even more (and undoubtedly worse) risks, attributable to riders that were unpredictable and downright dangerous. I’d had my fill of racing with idiots, as opposed to competitive souls whose intentions were within the rules at all times. I knew what I could expect from racing in experts 3 group and the more I thought about it the less appealing it was. Having a shattered knee cartilage due to some moron on a bike that he didn’t know how to stop was a constant reminder to me how far some folk can go in the spirit of clueless competition. On the other hand, these days some changes were afoot and whole events were based on different categories; which appealed to me. Maybe then I shouldn’t think about quitting. I’d been in some stupid spills over the years so ……………………..oh, I don’t know, today had to be amongst the worst.

My mind was in a grey area. The perception of how events over a matter of time may be able in themselves to act as a pointer, now became all the more ………real I suppose, and in my head at least began to take the form of matter over mind.
It was only in my mind of course. It was how I was to perceive it.
It made sense.
Was odd though how this Sunday bike ride had morphed into a likewise comparison to a different set of circumstances from a long time ago. I could now relate the bikes and all the spills I had had with them, (in a convoluted way) to days on the farm all those years ago and the various ill tidings that had accompanied those days, as stupid as it sounds. The signs were there. It all made sense. Maybe then it had been the right time to get off the farm. A kind of reverse psychology working its way through my thinking as I sit there on the river edge at the ford..
For all these years I had carried with me the certain knowledge that everything leading up to the time that I left the farm was not my fault. And I could even say the same about the quarries come to think of it.
Now I was able to convince myself.
The other question of course could be – why shouldn’t it be this way?

Revelations –
Years ago, on the farm, I’d been lucky on more than one occasion. On the other hand, maybe luck hadn’t come into it.
I’d loved every aspect of farming, listing it as if not my favourite job then certainly one of my favourites.
I considered the farming days to have been better for me than had been for a lot of other folk who had gone into farming at the same time. For me the expectations were a lot less. For others, the expectations were a lot more. That can easily be explained: for instance in the machinery that one was expected to use for one thing.
For a lot of other farm workers at that time; and this was a time of heightened and accelerated modernisation of farming ways, (including the downfall of the small farm and the greater introduction of the mega farm), the way of life had changed from a probably viewed as idyllic, if not extremely hard way of life, to a modern way laced with targets.
For me, most of the modern approach wasn’t included.
My agricultural career included work on a neighbouring farm to that which I started as an apprentice. Both these farms had been small village affairs to begin with.
The farm to which I dedicated my qualified years in agriculture was still small, maybe even loosely managed. The farm that I started up on as an apprentice sold up to a conglomerate of farming businesses and soon became bigger, harder and micro managed.

Leaving farming was by choice rather than any other way. It had sort of reached the end of the road. All the upsets along the way and various things that happened could not possibly at the time have been conceived by myself as an indicator to get out of farming – like a pointer from the heavens for instance.
I just had new directions to follow and new achievements to fulfil.
It’s funny though when looking back.
I had the choice of tractors upon starting work on the farm that I was accepted onto after college. In fact, I had the use of all of them. There weren’t any other farm workers on this particular farm other than myself.
Of course, the owner of the farm had dedicated each tractor to a particular use depending on the equipment that it was fitted up to.
To me it didn’t matter, all the tractors were David Brown tractors. None of them had a cab. There were two in all.
I wasn’t interested in having the preference of a new tractor, or even a fairly new tractor.
I busied myself with the use of these relics over the next four and a half years or so. I loved using them. They were to me what a tractor should be. There was no gimmicks and no enclosed environment to work from within. Come rain or shine, I was always outside.
Fitted with a roll bar, the therefore open aspect of each of those tractors only gave to heighten the brilliant feeling of working in the great outdoors. I couldn’t have chosen a better farm to work on.
It didn’t matter to me – the weather. I was outside anyway.

A year or so passed on the farm and the nature of the job with the equipment available to hand was key to a work ethic that alluded to all of it being a more….. dedicated approach to work. No fancy tractor cabs with all the latest ICE, no CB radios to chat with others, no heaters to stay warm on a cold day and no sheltering from the constant noise.
I didn’t question my work tools and approach, they were what they were. The farm required it so I worked it. Frankly, there was a lot of fun to be had in driving those tractors.
And although this farm could be said to be stuck in the dark ages – not strictly true. The boss man was inclined to visit farm auctions occasionally.
One such day his return was marked by the arrival of a different tractor. This was a Ford 4000. A cab was fitted which consisted of a front and two sides. An alien concept to that which I was used to. There was no rear to this early type of cab. The tractor wasn’t new either. It was a used tractor with basic resemblance to newer tractors in that it had a cab, but older as a tractor and as in the David Brown, without any new tech added.

Soon another tractor would turn up, another Ford – this time a 5000. This tractor also had a cab of a very early type fitted, also without a rear to it.
Over time the Ford 4000 proved to be a reliable little workhorse whose duties were only to be in certain areas.
The Ford 5000 joined the line-up and within time was fitted up with certain pieces of equipment particular to only it.
In all the time I had been driving the David Brown tractors, not a single fault of any type was to appear. I couldn’t and wouldn’t blame the tractor for instances such as diesel freezing up in the fuel lines. It was not even related.
The Ford 5000 however was different. A puncture whilst on the move down the road was just bad luck. A cylinder head valve dropping through the piston was on the other hand bad reliability. The tractor also suffered several oddly occurring hydraulic problems that should have been impossible to happen at all.

Broom Hill –
Either of the  Ford tractorswere no match for the David Brown when it came to the daily task of muck spreading in the fields. An enjoyable job at any time of the year as far as I was concerned. To be honest, who cares about the muck flying all ways. You get used to it.
The muck spreader was routinely used in the worst conditions and almost permanently attached to the David Brown.
In the modern world I wouldn’t opt to go muck spreading on a tractor with no cab. This though was the 1980’s. And on this farm it was as good as it got. Muck spreading wasn’t allowed with the Ford’s, least ways not in the early years.
I loved it!
One such day I’m tugging the muck spreader along the heath road down to the fields separated from the farm by several miles of road.
As usual the journey shouldn’t throw up any surprises, why would it? It was a straight forward trip down the heath road, over the railway bridge at the top of the hill, down the bendy hill to the bottom, followed by more country road driving.
The noise surrounding me sounds the same as it normally does. The concentration required to keep this little rig on the road was normal. I’m careful to avoid using the brakes in a jarring fashion as the muck in the spreader this particular day is a runny mess. There is no straw mixed up in this little lot as there is just so much water around at the time, creating load after load to be carted off in the muck spreader. I’ve got the spreader less full to allow for a bit of mass movement when going down the hill
I’m not particularly listening out for any peculiar noises that aren’t normal, everything looks fine from where I am on the driver’s seat. Everything feels the same as it always does. I don’t feel the oddest sensation that might alert me to anything randomly out of order.
A wheel with a tyre fitted to it flies past me from behind at shoulder height. It’s a huge wheel and tyre and it just about misses and avoids contact with either myself or the roll bar as it turns over and over and bounces onto the road surface in front of the tractor.
I couldn’t see where it went after that. It ran itself off down the hill. The moment this wheel and tyre passed me and then dropped in front of the tractor, I turn around to see where it might have come from. I’m shocked.
I Jab the brakes on harder than I should have. There was little point in avoiding harsh braking any longer as the slurry in the muck spreader was already slopping onto the road surface.
There’s a big scrape in the road where the muck spreader stub axle had landed onto the surface of the road whilst going forwards.
The off side muck spreader wheel and tyre is nowhere to be seen.
Everything had been going so well. I get off the tractor to survey the damage.
Without spending any time looking for the missing wheel and tyre my only thought then was to make sure the boss knew about this as quick as possible. I made to return to the farm on foot. There was little point in disconnecting the tractor from the muck spreader and possibly making things worse.
I was completely without blame. There was nothing I could have done to avoid this accident. If anything I felt lucky to still be here. That wheel and tyre combination is no lightweight.
A moment of indecision halted my progress for would I not be better off returning to the scene to look for the wheel and tyre? There was a main country road at the bottom of the hill. A car could have been passing either way at the time, assuming the wheel and tyre made it all the way down. I thought better of it and continued on my way back to the farm.

My arrival at the farm without the muck spreader; which I had been known to have left the farm with earlier, was the cause of some irritation with the boss man. He was not a joker type at the best of times.
I explained the details of the day so far. I saw him smile. A wry smile, like I was making it all up. I wasn’t known for practical jokes either and now, quite frankly, his features gave me the impression that it was not a good time to start.
He issued me with further tasks to do while he drove off in his van to see what all the fuss was about.
I had no further dealings with that incident on the day. I just carried on with the other jobs that I had to complete.
Later, when I was about to finish and wrap up for the day, the boss man approached me on this very subject. I wasn’t ready for what was about to come. In an angry confrontation between him and myself it was me who was to fair the worse. To conclude, I unfairly took the blame as apparently I should have checked the wheel bearings regularly. It was seemingly my job to grease the wheel bearings.
I’d never heard of a regular maintenance task whereby the wheel bearings should be greased, in fact I would say that it is something that should not be attempted. Not to mention the impossibility of it in my position.
He didn’t go into details as to where he found the missing wheel. I could only imagine where, but I would rather not have. I didn’t ask either.
Well, he wasn’t all bad, and I’m not suggesting that he in any way was. In fact I thought he was a very reasonable employer. He did in fact endeavour to ease the task of maintenance by providing basic stuff following that incident.
I was able to move on from that quite quickly, as it goes.

Hay maker –
In line with the seasons, so farming works its way through the year. This farm was dairy by trade so working with all the seasonal crops such as silage and hay were par for the course.
It was summer time and the boss man had spent some time baling a field of hay. It was a big field in comparison to some of the fields I had to work on this farm.
With the baling now complete the boss man then asked me to stack the bales.
For this job I would need to use the Ford 5000. This tractor had had the loader fitted to it and on that loader was fitted an eight bale grab.
I was looking forward to it that’s for sure. I quickly mastered the grab machine and along with the hydraulics made it a super smooth process of retrieving bales and rick making with perfect straight lines.
I loved every second of it.

Triangular bales –
The eight bale grab was a revolution of design in the art of bale collection and storage.
My induction into the world of bale production had been via this very same farm; before leaving school even when as a schoolboy. Myself and a few others had spent an evening stacking bales into triangular ricks. As schoolkids looking for pocket money the hay stacks meant nothing, why would they. The farmer’s reason for wanting hay stacked in this particular way was to aid easy shifting from field to trailer.
Several years later, as an apprentice, I was to find out that technology had moved on and the art of baling had changed in that the stacking of the bales had become more precise.
The bales now were stacked in pyramids as the baler was driven around the field, using a sledge and manual labour to achieve the stacking. In turn awaiting the invention of something new to take its place.
Enter the eight bale grab; the newest technological advance in bale stacking. We had it. On that farm we had the new eight bale grab. I liked it. I determinedly tested myself with the smooth use of the hydraulics and felt perfectly synced with the use of those. The smoother the better was my way forward.

Flat down –
In the field working the eight bale grab, I was pleased to see the difference technology could make in the span of a few years.
The day’s work had gone well all morning. Stacking the entire field of hay bales into two ricks that would be later loaded onto a trailer and hauled away was now complete. A true sense of work satisfaction for myself. I loved it.
Heading for the exit gateway in the field was the relaxing part of this job if there was to be one. Having spent hours collecting hay bales and stacking them in as smooth a manner as possible, I had made a difference.
Without warning the front hydraulics failed – immediately and completely.
One second the front end loader arms were in the air as normal, the next they were on the ground. They simply just failed. The front end loader with eight bale grab lying on the floor.
For me, it was luck that I wasn’t on the main road going home. That main road had been a matter of two minutes away at the time.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I was no mechanic, but I was sure as I could be that there would have had to be a fail safe built into the hydraulics somewhere. And if this was the case, why then were the hydraulics broken. It was a catastrophic failure. I’d not heard of anything like this before. I walked back to the farmyard that day.
Again, the boss man was not fully understanding when I told him of the problem. It was a bit similar to the explanation regarding the missing wheel from the muck spreader.
Following a repair by an agricultural engineer, the problem was indeed diagnosed as being failed hydraulics, that much I did find out.  On the plus side, I did avoid blame this time for something going wrong.

The Ford 5000 –
This was a strange tractor for sure.
Power steering was another advance everywhere. Any teething issue with power steering have been long since ironed out.
At the time though, not on this tractor. This tractor had been fitted with a new system in power steering. The anomaly with this one was the lack of feeling in the steering, a common problem in the early days of power steering. By adding power hydraulics to a steering system, the ability to feel the road beneath the wheels is lessened. On a car with power steering in the early days, a speed related sensor would reduce the amount of hydraulic control available the faster the car went.

When this tractor turned up at the farm yard and I had been tasked to use it, my initial verdict was that I preferred the David Browns. The steering on David Brown tractors was precise, even if hard. It wasn’t power steering on a David Brown and so what’s to go wrong?
I drove the Ford 5000. In a field it was fine, on the road it was terrible.
If driving a straight line down a tarmac road, the tractor had a nasty tendency to go one way, then the other. The wheels didn’t feel planted. As soon as the wheels headed where the steering input offered, it then seemed to wonder. The result was a wobbly line. It was virtually impossible to steer. Unless of course there was a knack.
I invented my own fix to the problem and it worked. The tractor steered perfectly if you operated the steering wheel literally with two fingers only. That was it. That was how I made it work. Once mastered it would drive as straight and true as anything.

Fickle cow –
It was Friday. The boss man and myself had spent the best part of the afternoon rounding up one particular cow from a field of cows. She was an awkward cow this day. She had a right to be awkward.
From an original plan to the end game everything was different. The wrong equipment, the wrong time frame and the wrong location. The boss said he would meet me there at the field after lunch break with the horsebox. We’d load up the cow and transport her back to the farmyard. I turned up as agreed. The boss man turned up in his van. No horsebox.
I didn’t care too much. It mattered in that we wouldn’t achieve the task to the finish. On the other hand, there was always tomorrow.
It would be a nuisance however, as I had agreed to take Marion to town. She was my girlfriend and I didn’t want to leave her hanging around for me. But no matter. If this went as far as Saturday, that then would be the easy part. Just get the cow in the horsebox and drive her back to the yard.
The hard part was to separate this cow. By the end of the afternoon we had enticed her into a stable.
The day was done. The boss man requested that I finish the job the following day. Stick to the original plan and load the cow into a horsebox to bring her back to the farm yard. That would now happen on the Saturday. Maybe I should have changed my plans about taking Marion to town. Now I felt obliged to sort this all out before getting ready to go to town.
Come Saturday the weather was dreadful with no respite in view. The job wouldn’t take me that long, the hardest part was already done. Drive tractor and horsebox up to the stable stall and load up the cow, bring her back and pen her up in one of the stalls down here at the farmyard. Unhitch horsebox, park tractor up and then some quick bedding down for the dairy herd and job done. That wouldn’t even take all morning.
The boss man knows I’m at work, I advertise my arrival with a quick chat whilst he’s milking the herd.

In no time I’m sat in the driver’s seat and I’m away off down the road. I powered the tractor with the foot throttle flat to the floor as I went up through the gears. It’s a wonderful feeling driving down the road in as dead straight line as it’s possible to do with a tractor whose defect traits had taken an inspired and uncharacteristic solution to master.
When this tractor had arrived on the farm, and upon realising that this tractor would be a part of my working life for the foreseeable future, I knew I had to get control it.
Once at the end of the road there is a staggered crossroads junction. I have to follow the road that then navigates its way through the next village. The road runs alongside a small river.
Never has this road received much in the way of attention. I was around the first bend and heading for the next bend in the road. Feeling chuffed and looking forward. There were good reasons to be feeling smug. I headed onward down the road. There were no kerbs on this stretch. In fact there were no kerbstones anywhere at all on the whole length of road. Just a grass slope to the river.

Events that followed then went into a kind of slow motion. A weird mix of real and slowed down time.
Things began to happen so quick. In the briefest of snap shots the tractor went from on the road straight and true in a happy place, to in the river – sideways.
Unbelievably the tractor had self-steered itself into the river.
I was one hundred percent sure the error was not of my doing.
With the tractor on its side in the river, I moved fast. I switched off the ignition to stop the engine and climbed out without wasting any time. I moved so fast that I didn’t feel any wetter than I had before.
I couldn’t think straight. Started to hyperventilate. There was a sensory feeling, scarily like the beginnings of shock. I ran back to the farmyard. The rain hadn’t stopped. Everything was fucked.
When I reached the farmyard, having found the boss man, I yet again went into some seemingly unreal explanation about what had happened. I couldn’t get my words out straight because it was difficult to make the words sound as though I was telling the truth. Once again it sounded like I was winding him up.

He dealt with it.
He dealt with it more or less without much more of a do.
I was to find out how much it cost to hire a crane lorry by the hour. It would have been the least of my worries were there not now present in my mind a horrible feeling that these occurrences seemed to be happening too often.
That tractor was recovered. There was no follow up investigation. No more said. It was what it was.
How weird is that?
My working life on the farm continued.
I had mastered that tractor only for it to end up sending it and myself into the river. My take on it was that the steering was connected to this accident. I knew I had it under control. Something failed.
The road was overhauled as a follow up. Kerbstones were added to the road for its entire length. Railings were also added for its entire length. There always had been a legitimate case for all manner of argument regarding the safety precautions allowed for on that stretch of road prior to that accident, of which there had been no work done at all.
I guess you could say that I alone had increased the safety of that road to modern standards. I wasn’t proud of that. But, no none else made that happen.

My farming career didn’t end there. I carried on at that farm for longer yet, until I moved on to a different career by my own choosing. And that wasn’t anything to do with the accident in the Ford 5000.
The boss man and I worked that farm for some years to come following that river accident.
I know I had that tractor under control. I know I didn’t drive it into the river.
It was just another day on the farm.