Retirement

Cliff and I love the freedom that retirement gives us.  Today, for instance, we decided on the spur of the moment to go to Jamesport to visit an Amish store and eat at a Mennonite restaurant.  Dear Lord, can meat loaf and fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy get any better?   

We looked at Amish-made quilts for $499, and I told Cliff they were worth every penny of that.  

We saw lots of horses, with buggies and without.  

I bought some cheap candy.  Also some cheap popcorn that actually POPS when you want it to pop, and some cheap pinto beans.  Oh yes, and a pint of sorghum, because Cliff has to have it once in awhile when I make biscuits or corn bread.  
All the time we were on the road I read aloud from my latest John Sandford book, and time flew.  We cruised through several used tractor lots and visited my cousin Gerald in Cameron.  
It was a good day.

Mainly for my son (and any tractor aficionados)

There are two pieces missing from almost every Oliver 1855 you'll find: The battery cover and the hydraulics cover. Cliff's tractor lacked both pieces, and he spent hours on the phone calling tractor junk yards, searching for these objects.
The reason they've been "lost in the shuffle" is that they are a pain in the patoot to put back on, once they're removed. It wasn't necessary that they be on the tractor in order to use it, so most farmers tossed them in a corner and thought no more about it. They weren't worried about how pretty the tractor looked; they were busy making a living.
Cliff wants his Ollie to have every piece she started with, but no matter where he called, there were none to be had.

So he found a suitable piece of metal and made a battery cover himself; once the Oliver is finished, nobody will be able to tell it isn't original.

Here's a closer work; Cliff's very proud of his handiwork.

However, he was afraid to attempt the hydraulics cover, so he had my cousin do that. Is that guy talented, or what? He restores old cars as a hobby.

To see ourselves as others see us

Yesterday Cliff and I went to visit my cousin and his wife in Cameron, Missouri. Cliff needed a missing piece for his Oliver 1855, and my cousin is a master craftsman in manufacturing things like that from scrap metal, since he's restored many old classic cars in his time. Cliff was beside himself when he saw what Gerald had created for him. He had called junk yards all over the country trying to find the piece, to no avail, and here it was in his hands needing nothing more than paint.

While the guys were in the shop talking tractors, Dee and I fiddled around on her computer; she's fairly new at this Internet thing, and asked me several questions, including some I couldn't answer.

I found out she had not discovered the wonders of Youtube and explained how you can find almost any performer, living or dead, and watch clips of them. I told her Cliff hunts up clips of Oliver tractors plowing and pulling, and she asked me to type in "1955 Mercury". We found plenty of those, and she said, "Oh, Gerald is going to like this!"

She wanted me to help her figure out something on Facebook, and this is where I had an eye-opening experience: Her Facebook page was filled up with ME!

When I type something into Facebook, on this end it doesn't look like I'm saying so much more than anyone else, because I have over two hundred "friends" there; so my remarks are just a drop in the bucket, mixed in with all those.

But Dee only has a few close friends and several relatives, most of whom don't have a lot to say on Facebook. So what I saw on her computer screen was page after page after page of ME. She kept assuring me that was fine, of course, that it didn't bother her.

I have a new resolution: Type no more than two statements per day into Facebook. I'm not counting the applications that show on people's pages, because they can block those; I showed Dee how to do that, too. But I shall try not to be so verbose from now on. If I were Dee, I'd have blocked me long ago.

I'll do my blabbing right here from now on.

*OK, I think I'm still going to be all over Dee's page. Even if she blocks apps like Swagbucks and drawings for Macs and Walmart gift cards. Because when I do a blog entry (at least three times a day, it seems) it shows there; when I write on someone's wall, it shows up.
My Facebook friends are doomed to an overload of ME, unless they totally block me. That can be done, you know.

Nice day for a motorcycle ride

Yesterday, that is. Although I wouldn't turn down another ride today, once the storm passes by.

Since Cliff got his 1855 Oliver, he's been like a man possessed, to the point that he really isn't worried about going for a cruise on the bike. Add to that the fact that there is the chance of thunderstorms in the forecast almost every single day, and let's just say it's hard to get a ride in.

Listening to the weather forecast Friday night, I said, "Cliff, we're just going to have to take our rain suits and try to sneak in a ride between rains."

I expected him to turn down the proposition, but he said, "Yeah, we could ride up to Gerald's and I could pick his brain about Oliver tractors."

My cousin Gerald is retired from farming, but he's been through a few Olivers; and although he won't admit it, he's really knowledgeable about all the tractors he's owned. He's also a genius at restoring classic cars (he won't admit that, either): his old Mercury took first place at a recent car show.

In fact, my cousin is responsible for Cliff buying the main tractors he's owned: We had a D-17 Series IV Allis Chalmers for many years, and now there's the Oliver; both of these are tractors that Cliff got to operate years ago,when he helped Gerald with his farming.

It only takes about an hour to get to Cameron, where Gerald lives. Given the fact that the skies looked like it could rain any minute, that was a long-enough ride for me. Cameron has been in the news for a few years because of a high incidence of brain tumors, and I appreciate the advice of a nurse on my Facebook list who told me, "Don't drink the water," even though I didn't heed her advice.

This is the tractor Gerald kept when he retired; it's more powerful than Cliff's 1855, and a year or two older; but it's the same basic tractor, and Gerald answered many of Cliff's questions, pointing out various things Cliff wasn't sure about.

It was hot and humid, so I didn't stay outside with the guys long; I went inside and had a nice visit with Dee, my cousin's wife. I tried to help her out with a few things on her computer, although her Vista OS wouldn't let me delete her cookies. What's with that? I certainly hope Microsoft comes up with something simpler before I need another computer!

This is Gerald's current project, a Ford Crown Victoria; he's done a lot of these. Cliff and I have agreed that if we were to win the lottery, we'd see if we could buy one of Gerald's restored vehicles. By the time he gets through with a car, it's like new, inside and out.

It was a good ride, and we managed to dodge the rain, although the pavement was wet with recent rainfall as we got near home. Close call!

Sunday ride, part 2

From Holt, where we ate lunch, it was only twenty miles to my cousin's house.

Unfortunately, he and his wife weren't home when we arrived.

Gerald quite wisely keeps all his restoration projects under lock and key, so there was no looking at those.

Cliff said, "Well, since we're here, let's go look at the tractor; I haven't seen it for awhile."

As if it would have changed in six months' time.


"Hmmm, he has quite an oil leak here."

"Something isn't right there."

Cliff keeps up a running conversation with himself when he's looking at tractors.

"Huh, he just bolted the hydraulics to the right fender." (This said in a slightly disapproving tone; Cliff thinks aesthetics are important when it comes to tractors.)

Materials for future car restoration projects, neatly stored away.

These are project cars my cousin may get to someday.

After leaving a note on their front door, we headed home.

When Cliff sees a tractor sitting along the road somewhere, he'll usually ask questions like, "What series is that?" or "Is that an 'H', or an 'M'?" He doesn't expect an answer from me, because at the speed we're going, I can't often make out what sort of tractor it is. And I probably wouldn't know anyhow.

Now that's a bigger herd of horses than I usually see.

We would have enjoyed visiting with my cousin, but it was a good ride. I'm glad we went.

Another letter from 1938

I'm not sure about the date my mom wrote on this picture; this letter is dated 1938, and Aunt Ruby is calling Gerald her baby; but if the picture is dated correctly, Gerald would have been six years old when the letter was written.

I sometimes refer to my 38-year-old daughter as "my baby", though; so who knows?

Here's the content of a letter to my mom from her sister, my Aunt Ruby, written in December, 1938. It just tore my heart out the first time I read it. This was before antibiotics, and you can see that she thought her baby was dying. I mostly used her spelling. See if you feel what I felt, reading this. By the way, my cousin Gerald is still alive and kicking. Before he was born, Aunt Ruby had lost an infant daughter to pnuemonia, which probably is the reason for her concern.

Rippey, Ia.
Tuesday nite

Dear sister Lola:
I was sure glad to get your letter today, Lola. You don't know how much good it done me. It's so dreadful lonesome so far from everyone I know and my dear baby so sick. He has pnuemonia. We have had the doctor twice. He is coming back.
Well now it's Wednesday morning. That's as far as I got when Gerald took suddenly worse. We worked with him till 10:30 then called the doctor back again. He has had convulsions and was out of his head, talked so crazy. He had pluercy and Lola he is still awful sick. The Dr. is coming back again today. Can you every realize how awful it's been. We never got stritened up even and in a neighborhood and don't know a soul. Even had to get a strange doctor. He's from Rippey & he sure seems nice. He has been so good every time he cam but what I want is my baby to get well. The Dr. says he is doing alrite but that it takes time. I wish I was close to some one I knew. Mrs. Hank has been up the last two nites & stayed with us but she has 2 little kids and can't stay away. Poor little Gerald is so sick I haven't wrote Mom yet. We are a mile from the mail box and I can't get away u no. But I thought maybe L (her husband, Lloyd) could go at noon and mail them.
Lola, Lloyd wanted me to tell you to be sure and not mention him not being well when you rite post cards because our mail is rite with theirs and they bring it when they get theirs so don't mention it ever on a card. I think he is improving but we can't think of anything now only our baby.
If little Gerald gets well that's all the Xmas L & I ask for. It is costing a heap but what's money. If you can't have your Lovin little babies so our Xmas won't be what it might. but just so Gerald gets well. I sure did wish for Dr Gunn. It just made me sick to call a strange Dr. but we couldn't wait to get one so far.
I'll be so glad to see you kids come up.
I will stop and send this to the box by Mrs Hunt. The Dr. came again while ago & Gerald is an awful sick boy yet. The Dr will be back again. I'll let u know when I can but u write and come.
Your blue sis
Ruby

These days Gerald is retired, and restores old cars as a hobby.

The Merchero

I have a very talented cousin who restores classic cars as a hobby. What you see here is a creation of his unlike anything you'll see again, I believe.

He took a '56 Mercury (I think... hubby is dozing in his recliner so I can't ask) and a Ford Ranchero and invented the Merchero.




Those are Harley Davidson lights on either side at the top of the bed.

How about this nameplate? Isn't my cousin talented?

Fixing the interior of the Merchero is going to be Gerald's winter project. Right now, he sits on that block of wood if he wants to drive the car outside the shop.