| My first job out of high school was leveling land on a thousand acre dairy farm in the high desert of Southern California. Six days a week I ran a caterpillar 613 paddlewheel scraper out in the middle of nowhere all by myself. I bounced back and forth or round and round on that machine all day long filling in the low spots and knocking down the high spots in dry dusty fields that were to be irrigated and planted in silage corn or alfalfa hay for the 500 head of Holsteins that occupied the ranch. Besides the heat, the wind, and the dust, boredom was the worst aspect of the job. The highlight of my day was noon when I could take my lunchbox and drive over to meet my high school buddy, Calvin, under a tree for lunch. He worked at the dairy feeding cows, irrigating and cutting hay. We were both glad to have a little conversation after being stuck in the cab of a tractor all morning hearing nothing but the rattle of a diesel engine. We talked about guns and girls, jeeps and hunting. And, we listened to the country music radio station during the short thirty minute reprieve from the tedium of our jobs. Calvin and I collected guns and reloaded our own ammunition in a workshop at his parent’s house. We experimented with different loads for varmint hunting and there was plenty of opportunity to test them in the remote areas of the ranch. Our pickups had well equipped gun racks in the back windows and our cross-bed tool boxes were always well stocked with ammunition. I took to carrying a rifle on the scraper with me most of the time so I could take a shot at a coyote or a ground squirrel whenever the opportunity presented itself. The coyotes were our favorite prey and shooting them was encouraged by the owners of all the ranchers in the area. As a matter of fact, the sheep rancher across the dry bed of the San Jacinto River would pay $20.00 for every coyote tail I brought him. But mostly the coyotes were something for me to look for while I was driving around in circles in the dusty fields. The summers in the high desert can be blistering hot with temperatures reaching well above one hundred degrees in the late afternoon, but the mornings are usually relatively cool. During the hottest part of the year I would often try to start work as soon as it was light enough to see so that I could escape the hot, dry afternoon wind. Everyday, like clock work, at about two o’clock in the afternoon it began blowing down the valley from the mountains. It seemed to channel itself right down the sandy, dry bed of the San Jacinto River which ran right through my place of employment. The dust rose from the fields daring me to breath and the sand flew through the air at a rate of speed that made it impossible to open your eyes at times. Originally, my job was only supposed to last a few months, but two years later I was still moving the high ground into the low ground as I worked toward having every acre of land on the ranch leveled. One cool summer morning the sky promised a scalding afternoon as I plodded back and forth next to the levy of the river bed. The sky was clear and blue, not the hint of a cloud was to be seen. The air was still and the dust rose slowly as the big tires on the machine rolled through the ruts of my haul road. There was no movement in the fields, no coyotes to snipe at, not even a crow could be seen. I stopped the scraper and stepped down to the dry earth and pulled my water jug from behind the seat, opened it and tilted it back to drink. As I drew on the cool water I heard the whirring of an airplane engine over the slow rattle of the idling diesel beside me and I looked up to see a brightly painted bi-plane fly over me at very low altitude. It was canary yellow with a red target painted on the side. It flew by so closely that I could see the pilot’s head protruding from the top of the fuselage. As I watched it fly away I noticed another plane much like the first flying toward me from the direction in which the first plane was headed. It too flew past me at a very low altitude and close enough for me to clearly see its markings. It was bright red with a black German cross painted on its side. The two planes flew away in opposite directions and I went back to my water. |
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Written by: Lance Nalley Links to the book excerpts by this author An Old Man's Dreams Little Johnny Knox, Three Time Looser Looking Back From Fear To Freedom, The Story of a Changed Mind |
Discover these great essays in the following folders
Family
* Inspirational * Helpful
* Social
War
* Freedom * Money
* Superb Essays from 1850
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And then, we have these essays in the GENERAL ESSAYS
category Friendship, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. A ruddy drop of manly blood The surging sea outweighs, The world uncertain comes and goes, The lover rooted stays. I fancied he was fled, And, after many a year, Glowed unexhausted kindliness Like daily sunrise there. My careful heart was free again, -- O friend, my bosom said, Through thee alone the sky is arched, Through thee the rose is red, All things through thee take nobler form, And look beyond the earth, And is the mill-round of our fate A sun-path in thy worth. Me too thy nobleness has taught To master my despair; The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair. A Break From Boredom -- by Lance Nalley The gods and Heroes of the Ancient World Staunch, steadfast, loyal and true. What better friend can a man have? The Moon on Six Pence Uncle Bob was an unforgettable character who traveled the world on bargain rates and golden smiles! Man, the Meanie of the Planet. This is a high resolution pdf document so you can print it out and hang it on the wall. Be sure to RIGHT Click the link, and save it to your computer. The Almost Good Housekeeping monograph is a good excuse for the harried homemaker to put off until tomorrow all those burdens of yesteryear, and quit trying so hard. Sex before the Sax: The first thing I learned about Lois was she had a label for being froward. Kids at school said she had had sex with Alfred. Not long after I arrived, another boy came forward to admit he had made a score at her door. God Does Not Fit -- by Lance Nalley Old Rattler, and the King Snake. Pleasures of the open fire: The Fireplace Revisited. Don't Make Us
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