A funny thing happened on the way back to the bush yesterday. Mr. Massey-Harris, the only submersible “22” model tractor still in good running order that I know of, suddenly stopped in his tracks and insisted he wasn’t going to go any further if I didn’t acknowledge that I was just about to become an elder and ceased being in negative denial about it.

Now, you may find it more than a little odd that I talk to my tractor. Some might say they’re not surprised; after all, that McNichol fella is a strange duck at the best of times.  Continue reading →