Lots of people are crazy about racing. Secretly they are watching to see a disaster. Sort of like entering your brother-in-law in a potato sack race over a field of hot coals.

Recently I saw one of those potential disasters up close. I was pulling a borrowed spray rig behind my tractor from my ranch to a nearby farm. It wasn’t too far away but I decided to take the safer route on back roads which I calculated would only take about five minutes more. That calculation was like most of my math tests. I didn’t get every problem right.

I was mentally patting myself on the back when out of nowhere came a pickup flying around me and whipped back in front of the tractor. That little whip and a little dip in the road was just right to cause the trailer hitch to jump off the ball. Keep in mind this was all in an instant but here’s what I processed in about 3-5 seconds, about half the time taken for a bull ride...up to the buzzer. The pickup was fish tailing, the trailer shot off to the right, broke the two safety chains and was airborne. In its path was a telephone pole, a sign warning of a high pressure gas line, a house, and a lady old enough for Medicare, in a garden outside the house. With my lighting like imagination I pieced together the possibilities. The trailer hits the pole, breaks it and the power lines. The lines start shooting electricity which ignites the gas line, blows up the house, and launches another woman into space.

Fortunately the trailer dipped down, got caught in the grass, rolled over twice, and stopped upside down without hitting any of the previously mentioned objects. It did however have that lady making moves that would have rivaled Patrick Mahomes and Antonio Brown.

Naturally I stopped and got out. The first thing the driver said was, “Did I hit you?” I started to grab my neck and call my lawyer but my cell phone was not handy. I told him he could claim credit for all the damage totally by himself. Since I had a front end loader on my tractor I told him I’d come back in about 10 minutes after delivering the rig and turn his trailer upright. When I got back the trailer was upright and the lady was helping him pick up the debris he had been carrying. “Don’t tell me you and this lady turned this trailer over by yourself?” I kidded. “Just came from the garden,” she said, “did it by myself, been eating spinach.”

I helped them pick up the trash and we all observed the “Don’t mess with Texas” campaign. When I remarked that this was a close call the man said, “Oh, the Lord was riding with me.” The lady said, “You better let him ride with me hereafter. You gonna kill Him.” 

Doc Blakely is a humorist and motivational speaker who resides in Wharton. For more information, visit www.docblakely.com.


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