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Page 5 · column 4 of 7 · from the scan, no model involved
though I shouted. Seat belts would have helped, but there were none, and riding high on 10 wheels without a road underneath was rough-going, especially when George put his foot down. His weathered face showed how he had done this many times before, but I began to wonder if he was not taking chances. Then, again, what hatHnade him two hours late?
Woodchuck Hill was the worst. Officially classified as “Unsuitable for Cultivation” by the Department of Agriculture, the soil was good quality, but the grade was too dangerous for tractors. It wasn’t pleasant going over those granite outcrops in a speeding, tilting truck, so the next time George stopped to look in the hopper, I decided to get out, shielding myself from those whirling pellets. Over the noise, I shouted directions for him to take his rig over to the Dell, across one of the stone fords.
I don’t know why he took that curving track, but George W. missed the ford by one whole truck width. Two rear axles and eight drive wheels dropped into the stream. The spinner spun, the wheels churned, and the whole rear end sank slowly into the mud, throwing out fertilizer as it went
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