The summer I spent as a fifteen-year-old working on my aunt and uncles farm in Bucyrus, Ohio was memorable. Every day was a new task and new experience; sheep dipping the animals, bailing hay, shoveling manure, and hunting groundhogs with my cousin Tim.

My aunt Mildred was a wonderful pal, more playmate than adult, who loved picnics in the woods and building bonfires. My two cousins, Dianne and Tim were a several years younger than me and looked upon me as an older brother. Uncle Glenn, like most farmers, was an amazingly skilled jack-of-all-trades who gave me jobs I thought were way beyond my capability. After his brief instructions, he would walk away letting me figure things out.

During my first week Uncle Glenn wanted me to drive a combine several miles into town to a repair shop. A combine is a machine as large as a house.

After a two-minute briefing on its gears and controls and directions to town he was off. I had traffic backed up for miles behind me on the highway, but I made it.

Maneuvering the manure spreader over the fields seemed simple enough, but rather that keep the towing tractor in first gear as instructed, I shifted into high gear to speed up the assignment. Bad idea. Manure was flung hundreds of feet in all directions including whacking me in the back of my head.

I loved driving all the motorized vehicles, including the large farm truck.

My dad drove out from Connecticut in a new 1954 Ford Skyliner to pick me up at the end of the summer.

Of course, I had to show off by demonstrating how I could operate all the farm tractors, trucks, and implements. On the way home when reaching the Ohio Turnpike , my father said, “Here, you drive.” and climbed into the back seat and went to sleep. My dad didn’t realize I had never driven anything faster than 10 miles per hour. Gee whillikers, that was exciting, especially passing through those long tunnels on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

What a memorable summer.