I’m always up for a challenge.
So when Steve dared me to drive the semi Wednesday morning, you can bet I was in 100 percent. Daring me to attempt something always ensures that I will participate. (It just dawned on me that Steve has probably figured that out!)
I have actually driven our personal semi around our farm yard, but this was a special semi that I needed to drive.
It belongs to Steve’s brother, Don.
So I had to be extra careful, even though Don’s semi doesn’t have a cartoon cow on the door like ours does, damaging it would still sting, and prevent me from ever driving it again.
“I will go get the semi from Don’s and then honk the horn when I drive past the house,” Steve said, which made me feel so special. “You can bring the tractor to the field.”
When I heard the horn, I rolled off the couch, walked out to the tractor and climbed in. I turned the ignition, pushed one lever out of neutral and put the other lever in “C” gear.
We didn’t move. The dashboard display kept flashing “Neutral” at me. I felt like it was laughing at me. How insulting. I knew there was a way to get this thing moving, I just needed for that rude light to quit snorting at me!
I’ve never been tutored in the skill needed to drive this tractor or the inferior feelings it left me with. I may have to discuss this with management. Oh wait ? I am management.
As it flashed that naughty word at me, I thought, “Well, duh, if I were not in neutral I would be out in the middle of the field already.”
Eventually I figured out that you can’t put that little one lever into neutral before you put it in gear. You have to wait until after. then the neutral light goes silent! Take that, obnoxious neutral light!
Once I met up with Steve at the east end of the alfalfa field, we switched implements.
It was time for my 20-second lesson in the “art” of driving a semi. I couldn’t help but silently sing, “Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses. Ten more miles on this for day run.”
Who was I kidding? I had the eighteen wheels, but the dozen roses was a long stretch.
“Here’s the diagram of the gears,” Steve said as he pointed to a blue and white decal on the dash. “When you need to go, you need to take the brakes off. This one here” he said pointing to a big red button, “will release the trailer brakes. The other one releases the brakes on the semi.”
“The tricky thing is this,” he continued, “they work together, so if you set the semi brakes, the trailer brakes with engage too. So you have to pay attention to that. And if you’re taking the brakes off, make sure they are both off.”
I could handle that. (I was still waiting for my roses.)
Did you know that air pressure is used to release a semi’s brakes? I learned that today. I knew air was involved with driving semi’s, but not to release the brakes. I thought it was just used to raise the cab off the air bags on the frame.
“Open the windows a bit and I will honk the horn when I want you to stop,” Steve added.
Horn be damned! I like horns, but they are not my preferred form of communication!
That was the extent of my tutoring in the proper semi-driving technique and I was on my own, which is the way I prefer it.
When it was time to move forward, I pushed in the clutch and struggled to find first gear. I pushed further down on the clutch and still couldn’t find first gear. Steve was already loading bales onto the wagon.
First gear be damned! I wanted to honk the horn!
Much later I figured out that if I didn’t push the clutch down so hard, it would slip right into first gear.
I was on my way, tootling down the length of the field.
Eventually, I heard the wimpy toot from the tractor horn. (Seriously, for being a tough machine, it has a horn that belongs in a Volkswagen.) I stomped on the clutch. I stomped on the brake. Two rather large round bales of hay came rolling off the wagon, toward the cab.
All I could think was, “Oh my gawd, I’m going to die by hay bale crushing. I mean, I wish my belly was flatter, but being rolled flat by hay bales was not in the plans!”
Eventually, I looked out the back window and breathed a sigh of living-relief. There, in between the semi-tractor and wagon, were two round bales of hay.
I felt my plump belly and breathed a sigh of relief.
Well, that threw being careful out the window.
I was never tutored on the proper pedal pressure when applying the brakes.
Tutor be damned!
I was most proud of myself for bringing the loaded wagon back to the farm without having the semi die on me as I drove up a hill, or losing any cargo.
My tutor never covered the prevention of bales rolling off the back of the wagon either.