Where the Rubber Hits the Roof
March 13, 2012 § 7 Comments
So let’s say you’re over to Broadturn Farm in Scarborough, Maine for a work project.
And let’s say you’re duffing around and you find a pair of chicken-shit-covered-but-in-generally-excellent-condition 16.9 x 28 tractor tires, which just happens to be the size you need to replace the not-in-generally-excellent condition treads on your machine.
Furthermore, imagine that the owners of said tires are willing to let them go at a very reasonable price. Not only that, they will trust you to send payment by mail, and loan you a pair of ratchet straps. Do farmers rock, or what?
All of which is say, imagine me driving three-hours home with these tires atop the roof of our “new” Subaru. The shit-eating grin I got from the fella operating the skidder at the side of Route 113 was all I needed to confirm I’d made the right decision. That, and the fact that I passed three cops, and none of them pulled me over.
The ol’ ‘Ru did feel a tad top-heavy, I must admit.