Fueling the Tractor Required a Workaround

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I have learned that living an active life at age 70 (and counting) involves a series of workarounds. Here are some recent examples:

• Our shiny new orange tractor’s fuel tank fills from the top of the engine cover. The tank on the older tractor it replaced was behind the seat, meaning I could stand on the bushhog at the rear and leverage a five-gallon can of diesel up against my leg to pour it into the tank.

I can’t do this with Orange Crush. I first tried climbing a stepladder next to it and lifting the can high enough to pour diesel into the tank. Five gallons of diesel weigh about 40 pounds. Trying to lift a 40-pound can while getting the spout inside the tank’s opening — all while standing on a stepladder — quickly felt like an Old Man Does Stupid Trick move, a Hold My Beer moment. I ended up spilling diesel all over the engine cover and wrenching my already-rebuilt shoulder.

A different solution was needed. I went online, of course. For about $30, I bought a battery-operated fuel transfer pump. I fill its five-gallon can with diesel and attach the pump to it. The other end of the hose fits snugly inside the neck of the Orange Crush’s fuel tank. Press the “on” button and bingo! Diesel flows from the can on the ground into the tractor’s tank. No more balancing perilously on a stepladder.

• Our steer calves, Waylon and Willie, recently knocked over the deer feeder. They had a large time eating deer corn, which, from what I read, gives them the runs. Not good. I moved the feeder across the fence where they couldn’t reach it. Then I had to refill it with a 50-pound sack of deer corn. The top of the deer feeder is well above my head, as are many things, both animate and inanimate. My workaround was effective but still somewhat risky. I drove Orange Crush to the feeder with an unopened sack of corn and a feed bucket. I carefully got the tractor as close to the feeder’s legs as I could, then raised the tractor’s bucket to reach the top.

The tricky part was actually getting into the bucket. I had to slide into it, rear-end first, ramming my back against the bucket’s rear. That hurt. I then swung my legs into the bucket and stood up. From there, I could fill the feed bucket with corn and pour it into the feeder, fully aware that one slip could be painful. Willie and Waylon stood on the other side of the fence, watching intently.

We were rewarded for my efforts when a small herd of young deer showed up a few days later, as dusk settled. Three Geese Farm is an unofficial deer sanctuary. Bambi’s kinfolks are safe when on our land.

• I am determined to stay as mobile and strong as possible to delay decrepitude for as long as I can. For more than 10 years, I have attended CrossFit classes, now at CrossFit Electrica. It is a pleasant community of people just trying to get fit, led by excellent, kind coaches. Alex and Whitney understand my limitations and easily come up with workarounds for whatever the WOD (workout of the day) is.

The only person I am competing with these days is myself; my main goal — aside from fitness — is to avoid injuring myself. After a decade, I can no longer lift as much weight, row as fast, or do strict pushups (shoulder surgery ended that). No matter. I feel grateful for what I can do. I plan to celebrate my 80^th birthday at a CrossFit gym, even though I’m in no hurry for that day to come.

Let’s not rush things.

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