(For illustration purposes, a kubota tractor not unlike the one my stepdad had)
I got many stories of the man, most of them bad. One that sticks out to me right now more than others.
When we moved out to the sticks, one of the first things he bought was a giant orange kubota tractor. He primarily used it to mow our 3 acre yard, but also used it to plow our quarter mile long driveway during the winter and cut the brush back in our field once or twice a year. Sometime he would haul rocks. Honestly he put it to good use around the house unlike a lot of other guys who move to the sticks and buy tractors.
He babied that tractor. It got hand washed after every use. The yard had to be spotless of dog poop; if we missed a pile in the 3 acres of the yard, he would stop the tractor and start screaming for me to come out and do my job properly. He cut the yard twice a week during the spring and summer months. I was not allowed to touch the tractor.
One day he was out cutting brush in the field with the tow behind brush mower that he got. I was playing video games or something in the house. All of a sudden he bursts through the sliding door and demands I stop playing games and go out and get the tractor from the field. When I asked why and how (since he never taught me to drive the tractor) he explained how he was mowing and thinks he ran over a hornet's nest, because he got swarmed and had to jump off the tractor and run.
Now, he knew I was (and still am) deathly afraid of stinging insects. I sat on a bees nest when I was 3, it was bad. I know he knew this because he would make fun of me every time I expressed fear of a bee or hornet. But here he was, asking me to actually drive his tractor for the first time in 5 years in what could be a swarm of stinging insects.
That was the only time I ever got to drive the tractor.
