I mentioned a few posts back that in December, my dad had a farm sale. I noted the old 4020, the bigger combine, and all the semi trucks, but I failed to mention all the JUNK he dug out of who knows where. There were boxes and bins and piles on the ground, all available to the highest bidder. These are just the kind of boxes my grandpa has found collectibles in for the low price of $2.

But take a look in the background of this picture (on the right next to the shed) and you’ll notice a dust-covered 3-wheeler with a bench seat. Yes, three wheels, not four. And yes, I said bench seat. Dad welded a T-post to the back of this thing to hang pipe irrigation socks from. When it was too muddy, this came in handy to take to the fields to switch the water in the irrigation rows.

And when dad wasn’t looking, my brother and I used to hang on for dear life as we jumped terraces. And I’ll never forget the day my brother ran it into the gas tank and popped two holes in the leather seat. For once I wasn’t the one in trouble.

I never did ask dad how much this old thing brought at the sale but I’m sure it’s memory-making days are over.

Until we walk again …