I love my tractor.
It is not 'my' tractor but the only one which I like. It is a monsterous Valtra, has awesome power and is all clean and neat inside.
The other tractors are pig sties inside - sweet wrappers, bailer twine, tools, oily rags which look suspiciously like they were once a good tea towel, tractory bits and the obligatory jumper slung over the back of the seat. Oh and barley everywhere.
I do not care for the tractor with the forks especially as I am not fully trusted incase I 'Take someone's eye out with it or drive into a cow".... I would rather avoid using it but if we suddenly need an amateur opthalmic surgeon then I am the dude.
My tractor does not have front forks, all the needful things go at the back so it will take the bailer, cutter etc easily. I say easily as it is all computerised.
Now the reason I need a hacker is because the tractor has been changed from the dizzy 'fast rabbit' speed (and there is a little illustration on the gear stick of a fast rabbit) to 'slow tortoise'.
I was busted by The Farmer. He caught me doing a 'Bat Out Of Hell' impersonation - yes the one where the zombie is flying out of the earth on a motor cycle, head flung back with the speed - except change the Harley for a tractor.
I was doing the breakneck speed of 9.3 miles per hour in a 6.7 mph max field. He Frowned. It was last Autumn.
I need a hacker to crack into the computer part and make the tractor speed up a bit. The manual has 'mysteriously' vanished and the tractor sits at a 'mysteriously' low pace. Hmm.
The Spring work has started and despite sneaky, stubborn clumps of snow found clinging to tuffets of grass, we have an awful lot to do in the next few weeks so I feel the need for speed.
The Farmer has his own pace for everything. He seems unperturbed by clocks and watches, appointments are made for vague times, "late afternoon" etc, he never rushes. He does things slowly and methodically and does them well.
I, however, like to crack on, usually as there are lots of things still to do. The Farmer once set up the ancient old David Brown tractor, the one without a cab and an old seed bag as a seat, set up the wuffler then warned me "Not to fall off as I would get wuffled and the gears were a bugger to change unless you had rugby players legs".
I drove all of three feet, did not have rugby player legs, did not know how to stop and wailed about my eminent demise under the wuffler. He walked (slowly) alongside and stopped the machine before I burst a blood vessel or fell into the wuffler. I learned patience that day.
So how can I get the Valtra to go back to the breakneck, G forces speed? Bill Gates would probably know but the chances of him turning up here are slim.
I'm going to try charm. Honey being sweeter than vinegar and all that.
I need that 2.6 miles per hour back.