Tractor 360

Posted by Castel on June 25, 2008

This weekend has been one that I will not forget. We are currently living in a four-plex. Our friends live in a house just behind us. All of the housing around here is about 115 years old. On Thursday of this last week I was “volun-told” that I was to help out my friends pull apart their back yard with a Bobcat tractor since my friend Nick did not know how to work the vehicle.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, I am like most men, I love working with my hands and power tools, especially power tools that are about 2.5 tons and 50,000 dollars. They are also great friends and they have helped us often, so I have no problem helping the drive their 2.5 ton, 50,000 dollar power tool around their back yard.

After putting in half a dozen hours of overtime at work, I went home, grabbed a snack and went over to Nick’s house. We immediately started pulling the tractor off of the trailor and digging up about 58 tons of dirt. (NO JOKE.) I placed the dirt on the tractor trailer so that it can be hauled off and “deposited,” in the proper location.

Our first load of dirt was headed to the dump in a town just down the freeway. . . Until we started to go up hill. That is when we noticed that his truck was not strong enough for the drop. (His truck is a V8 1 ton.) So we turned around and began the trek down to the bottom of town, looking for a good place to drop this dirt.

If we had lived in a town that was bigger we would have at least received a ticket for driving with an uncovered load, at the worst we could have been arrested for trespassing and illegal dumping. However none of that happened. We had a cop follow us for most of Main St. without him even noticing us. At this time I have to thank every red neck and hick that paved the way for us.

Once we found a spot to drop the dirt (behind Nick’s work, in the Hobo field,) we began shoveling all of the dirt off of the sides of the trailer. Now I can shovel all day, not that I am fit, but spending a childhood playing in dirt, and most of my life in the Marine Corps shoveling or digging I have gained muscle memory that just seems to have a natural movement when it comes to digging enormous holes quickly. After an hour of shoveling we decide that it will be better if we tilt the trailer and let the dirt slide off while Nick drives the truck forward.

Well that is what was supposed to happen. After doing that three or four times, we realized that the law of physics has not yet been invented in this small town and downward pressure with forward momentum will not work. So we go back to shoveling and sweating in the “sweltering” 75 degrees. After we finally cleared the trailer we head back home.

On the second load of dirt we decided that it would be better to drive the tractor down to a new drop site. (We decided to not push our luck by returning to the scene of the crime, and to just pick another spot in hopes that it will confuse the local law enforcement.) We agreed that I would drive the tractor to the gas station across the street and then wait for Nick to go through the alley and meet with me, then we will find a new spot to drop the dirt.

While I am sitting at the gas station looking in the direction of the house I see one of the telephone poles start to shake by the apartment. If it had been earlier in the morning I would have realized that Nick had hit the pole with the trailer, however at that point (6 p.m.) I was so tired that I didn’t even think twice about it. I finished filling the tractor and my wife shows up and said, “Nick hit the telephone pole and is having a hard time getting it out of the alley way, what do you want to do?” I thought, “I want to go to a hot tub, get some hot wings and a cold drink and just watch the steam evaporate into the wind.” What I said was, “I will drive the tractor to the alley and see if I can pull him out of the telephone pole and get this taken care of.”

Nick is a good man, and I would consider him someone with good common sense, however that was not the case that evening while we constantly tried to pull the loaded trailer out of the alley way. At one point we ended up with the trailer stuck between two lightpoles and had to chain the tractor to the trailer to pull it out so that Nick can get out and we can get going.

What we discovered was that after the first load of dirt, Nick pulled the trailer in straight, but after loading about 30 buckets of dirt on the trailer the tractor had nudged the trailer closer to the light pole. Without looking at the trailer (rookie mistake,) Nick took off. So technically it was my fault. (Remember? I was the pilot of the tractor express!) Needless to say, after an hour of trying to get this oversized trailer and truck down a small alley Nick and I finally get everything ready.

Nick and I found a great spot for the second load of dirt. We unloaded it with no problems, it came off quickly with the tractor (a miracle by itself,) and we were back home in less than a half hour. We had one last part of the yard to finish, and then we could call it a night and begin the bar-b-que fiesta of our normal Saturday night routine. Until . . .

I was coming down the slight incline to cut up about 8 inches of dirt, it was the last thing to do and then we were done. Needless to say, (but I will say it anyway,) I put the bucket up too high, I was going forward too fast, and apparently someone just invented physics (forward motion with downard force,) in our small town. Next thing I know is that my face is looking down into the dirt, my shins are purple from ruptured capullaries, and I had just seen my life pass before my eyes. Nick’s wife comes out asking if everyone is okay. Then she begins to tell me that I am stupid and it was bound to happen. Which I agreed with her at the time, Nick is laughing and I am feeling like I need to get the money back for all of my education, since I don’t seem to use any of it when it is needed.

After about another hour we finally get enough chains, tow ropes, and webbing to get the tractor attached to a truck and back on all four wheels.

Here is the lesson that needs to be learned. Never trust physics in Montana!