John Deere Tractor Wreck

My closest call with death came in what I believe was the summer of 1945 (15 years old). Dad had bought a new John Deere tractor, of which he was very proud. It was green and tall and fast.

One day I drove it up the hill on the road to Weston to pick up our mail at the intersection beyond the canal flume. Then I drove it up the road to our neighbor's, Wash Thompson. I can't recall why I went there, but after a few minutes I decided to lead for home.

From their barn there was a long straight driveway to the Weston road, where you had to turn right or left onto the road. I put the tractor in high gear, probably to show off to the Thompsons. As I approached the road, the tractor was probably going 20 miles per hour. I didn't think to slow down, partly due to the fact that the mail, which was on the seat under my right thigh, was jostling loose. I reached down to secure the mail just as the tractor was entering the roadway. Since I needed to go left toward home, I quickly pulled the steering wheel left and more quickly let it go to reach back across to grab it on the right side and pull it across left again to make the turn. But as those will know who have driven tractors, they are engineered to very quickly return to front wheels to straight ahead. So I was rapidly heading for the barrow pit on the opposite of the road.

Then a flash came to my mind that I could touch the wheel brake on the left to slow the left rear wheel, thus swinging the tractor to the left. By the time my foot hit the brake the tractor was almost to the barrow pit. The only problem was that in my quick reaction, I hit the right wheel brake, not the left one.

The next thing I knew I was on my back in the barrow pit with the tractor upside down on top of me. Actually the tractor seat was across my groin, pinning me to the ground. The tractor was still running and the huge rear wheels were turning. The left wheel was on top of my right leg pulling it under the wheel.

The engine finally killed, about the time that the Thompsons came running up to see if they could help. After extracting me from the tractor, they pulled the tractor upright. The tall exhaust pipe was bent upright, and the engine started. So I drove off home with much dread over ruining the appearance of Dad's new cherished John Deere Tractor.

I don't recall what Dad said when I got home, but it seems that he was very kind to me and didn't punish me for my foolishness in ruining his prized tractor.

I have pondered many times this impossible survival of what should have been severe injury or death. The incredible speed of the tractor flipping over so fast that I was not aware of it, and slamming into the barrow pit, so that I was not bruised except for where the seat arm had pinned me to the ground is astounding to me. I can onlly assume that angels protected me.