Twelve Miles Per Hour In The Fast Lane I took part in the WNAX/ Tri State Old Iron Association (TSIOA) two-day tractor ride in July. Two days sharing a seat with my husband on an International 666 covering nearly 125 miles. Crazy, I know, but more exciting than I thought possible, after I figured out how to have some fun. Day one, Friday, started out perfectly. Partly cloudy skies above us on the sixty-degree, slightly breezy morning and two hundred tractor drivers anxiously awaited the trip. Most had taken advantage of Graham Tire’s assistance that morning in weighing the tractors and adjusting for correct tire pressure to assure for a safe ride. My husband and I were a group leader, number seven out of eleven groups and we were responsible to keep seventeen guys on track. Yes, all men. I was the only woman in our group, though several other women drove tractors and rode along with other groups. Thankfully the route was marked well as I’m directionally challenged. I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag. My travel cup full of coffee and some already going through my system to wake me up as we left the field near the Chamber of Commerce and headed East out of Yankton. I felt jittery, anxious, nervous and excited. I know it wasn’t the coffee, my body is accustomed to my habit. It was this new experience. Our group slowly lined up as we got out on a stretch of highway, resembling a momma duck with her trail of ducklings. When Yankton county slowly started to disappear behind us, I tried to sit back and relax, much easier said than done in my case. “Seventy-five miles through South Dakota on this tractor today,” I thought. I estimated how long this would take. Almost forever, at this pace. Do you know what else I could be doing right now? I felt the urge to multi-task, unable to just sit still. Maybe I shouldn’t drink any more coffee. Twelve miles per hour seems so slow, excruciatingly slow, especially for someone who’s always thinking ahead past the task at hand, always in a hurry to keep moving forward. An oncoming semi-truck passed us, bringing with it a gust of wind that blew Joe’s cap off his head and sent it flying behind us. He stopped the tractor and I hopped off to run 25 yards back to snatch it up off the center of the highway before the other tractors could catch up. He told me before the ride to wear good walking shoes, though I don’t think this is what he meant. Two hours of riding and we took a scheduled break in the center of Avon, SD. Drivers wore huge smiles as they pulled into the lot. Grown men chatted eagerly and were razzing each other about the ride. Some meandered through the parked tractors, studying them, like When is your next move? Get there Faster with Lisa! Lisa Daugherty Realtor, Broker/Owner Cell: 605.661.0054 Lisa@iw.net • Office: 605.665.7407 16 years experience working for you! 6vHERVOICEvSEPTEMBER/OCTOBER w2017 I have SOLD more of my own listings than any other agent. 122 W. 3rd, Yankton