So this is my brother. As you can see he looks to be about five years old and he’s driving the tractor while my father has a smoke and throws some feed out the back.
You really do have a different childhood when you grow up on a farm. My husband was showing me this little plastic toy yesterday and asked me if I played with one when I was a kid and I told him that I didn’t have time to play with stupid plastic toys when I was a kid because after looking at all these old photos I can see we were all obviously too busy working out on the farm.
We all learnt to drive at an early age but my father didn’t have a lot of patience or very good driver training skills. I don’t remember learning to drive a car so maybe it was particularly traumatising but the day he taught me how to drive a tractor I was on it with him and then he just jumped off and told me to drive it.
The day he taught me to ride a motorbike I was out with him doing some cattle work and they started running in the wrong drection and he yelled at me to run back and get the motorbike and I yelled at him that I didn’t know how to ride a motorbike and he yelled back at me that it was ABOUT FUCKING TIME I LEARNT HOW TO THEN.
So I ran back to the bike crying and managed to start it and ride it back to him and we sorted out the cattle and then rode home. When we got home I got off the back and he said that now he could give me a proper lesson and I yelled back at him that it was A BIT FUCKING LATE NOW and stormed off and he stood there chuckling.
He was a very difficult man sometimes.