There are many dangers of growing up on a farm. Not scary dangers, mind you; fun dangers. The kind of dangers that nearly kill you, but you have more fun nearly getting killed than playing with dolls, riding bikes, and non-lethal boring things the city folk do. For instance, the time we climbed into the corn bin to jump in the corn and my brother Mike scrapped his back on the metal ladder all the way down on one jump.
Then there was the time my brother Mike's head was pinned against the hog barn by a 2 ton truck used to haul the hogs to market. I just recall him coming into the house with blood running down his face. My Mother totally freaked out for this one!
She was from the city though and the city kids just got little scrapes and bruising. Nothing a band-aide and kiss from their mommy couldn't heal. Us farm kids, we were tough. When we got hurt we needed sutures, pressure dressings, and IV's, nothing out of the norm for us. We never did have to call the ambulance though. We lived too far out in the country. Our strategy was to drive like a mad man into the ER in hopes that a sheriff would pull us over and then give us a police escort to the ER. It was so fun when that happened, and coincidentally did happen for the "hog truck head wound incident".
Another time Mike broke a rib when he fell off the rope swing in the hay barn. Did I mention my brother Pat was once attacked by a neighbors bull and tossed against the fence like a rag doll. Just another uneventful day on the farm.
I was not injured on a regular basis like my brother. I saved up for one major occurrence my brother Mike likes to call, "first flight of AirLisa". I prefer to call it, "how my older brothers almost got me killed". This story starts with a dirt bike.
One day I decided that I needed to learn how to drive the dirt bike. Apparently this was the same day that my guardian angel decided to go out for lunch...take a vacation...a nap perhaps??? So my brothers show me where the gears are, how to drive the motorcycle, and off I go. I was doing really well! Up and down the driveway I would go.
Then I became overconfident and decided I needed to go faster and take this thing out of first gear. I was ready for second gear! My brothers were playing catch in the yard and I would yell to them every time I drove by, "how do you put it in second gear?" after doing this about 10 times they figured out what I was saying and after I drove by another 10 times I figured out the answer they were yelling back to me.
Once I got the bike into second gear I was in heaven. Oh boy, I was going fast and I loved it! I knew how to drive the dirt bike and could take it all over now. I wouldn't have to take my bicycle two miles down the road to the neighbor kids house anymore. I could now drive the dirt bike. I was on top of the world. My life was changing for the better. My "cool" radar had just increased dramatically. If only my brothers had told me that you have to slow down when you go around a curve. You see up until this point the only other thing I had driven was a riding lawn mower and a tractor. They go slow. You can go max speed when taking a curve with no issues.
So I whizzed up the driveway in second gear and as I headed towards the corn bin there was the curve. I was going too fast, panicked, went even faster, couldn't turn with the curve, went straight ahead and smashed into the corn auger. At the point of impact I literally went flying through the air. I recall thinking, "this is not good!" as I was flying through the air. Fortunately, I landed on my butt. I was not dead, which was good. Mom freaked out again, of course. You think she'd be used to this by now!
The dirt bike was never the same. I recall my brothers grave concern for the condition of the dirt bike. Older brothers are sweet like that.
Even though we had many mishaps on the farm, it was a great place to grow up. However, all of us live within city limits now with our families. We want our children to live to see their twenties!
A Proud Farmers Daughter,