So I have been spending a lot of time in TN with my father and his side of the family. I'll start with this bit of news, he gave me a beautiful well kept 1948 tractor with a box blade. I have been spending a lot of time learning how to use it. Now I know how to drive a tractor.... barely. Mastering it is a different story. He and my uncle would hang out i the yard while I practiced with the tractor while helping them clean out the creek on his property. I have discovered a couple of things while driving a 1948 tractor. First, sitting in the seat is a lot like riding a horse on an English saddle. You feel every tiny bump and shift to the point that a small lump feels like a huge log. Second, I have spent too much time on horse back. By the time the day was over every muscle was sore from tightening my thighs and shifting my weight as if that would affect how the tractor performs. Third, I still have spent too much time on horseback because I kept yelling " WOAH!" when ever the tractor started to tilt or skid. Fourth, my uncle and father are unsympathetic to my desire to control the tractor with my thighs and vocal commands. They laughed at me. Five, tractors are evil. Six, tractors are really evil. Seven, did I mention they're evil? Because mine reared up, and it's eyes, I mean headlights, glowed red, and if i hit a stump wrong the wheel spins wildly out of my hand, trying to take my thumbs with it. Eight, I loved every minute of being on that thing.