Yesterday I broke a cultivator. While looking around for a suitable piece of steel to weld on and repair it I came across a bent piece of combine from many years ago. This discovery reminded me that the progress of harvest is sometimes less than smooth. Later I received a text from a friend: ‘broke combine after 3 hectares!’ I sat down and penned the following…
The screeching of bearings
The squealing of belts
The groaning of steel upon steel
That heart sinking feeling as you turn off the engine
And harvest becomes very still
Climb down the steps
Alone in the furthest far field
You open the guards smell burning rubber
Bang goes the profit and yield!
You call up the dealer
Explain to the storeman
Who wrestles with non-technical speak
Some of the parts are out of the country
They had one on the shelf last week!
It sits in the workshop
Disrobed and abandoned
The weather outside fine and bright
All you can hear is the sounds of the neighbours
They have been cutting all night!
One part is missing
(The one that is vital)
A forty mile dash is to do
On the way back you wave to your neighbour
His has broken down too!
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