Immediately north of the store was a farm field that belonged to Ernest Carlson. One day, the field was being plowed with an old John Deere tractor equipped with steel lug wheels. Connie Skoglund, who must have been about 20 or so, was operating the tractor for Ernest.
Being a pesky and curious four-year old, I climbed through the fence to get a better look as the plowing progressed. Connie stopped the tractor and I asked if I could ride along for a few rounds. Permission was granted and I stood behind Connie, on the drawbar, and hung on tightly to the iron seat.
After a couple trips up and down the field Connie decided it was time for me to get off. He was about to disengage the clutch with the long lever that did this, when the tractor hit a rock and lurched, throwing me off my perch behind Connie. I fell to the ground behind the tractor and just ahead of the plow. The plow wheel was just touching my neck when Connie got the clutch lever disengaged and stopped the tractor.
Thoroughly frightened and crying loudly, Connie picked me up and carried me back to the store. I think Connie was as shook up as I, and once again I learned a lesson. There were no more dangerous hitch-hikes on the back of tractors for me. Besides, there were so many other things to keep me in mischief, that I didn’t need tractors.
By Merland D. Howe, 2000.
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Anderson Family History 